Lady Therese De Beauharnais of Roche

18 November, Year 32 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Roche Manor, Roche

Monrique

The silence between us grew heavier with each passing moment, as if I had tied it to a boulder with the string of words I had just uttered, and tossed it into the ocean.

However, even the ocean was not large enough to drown the truth.

"Your mother threatened to murder your father if you did not abide by her wishes? All these years?" Lord Testalt whispered, his voice hollow with horror.

I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out. The memories, the explanations were clogging up my throat like a clotting, cloying odour, making it difficult to even breathe, let alone speak coherently.

I closed my mouth again. My lower lip trembled.

"And she..." I tried again, and swallowed, "she has...succeeded. My father is not expected to live very much longer."

I could almost see his mind at work. After a short while, he stilled and his lips parted in further horror, as he understood why I had been so anxious to return to Roche last month - as he realised long last, that Papa's illness was not natural.

"Sister-mine! Sister-mine!"

At that very moment, the door of my bedchambers flung open, banging against the walls. Clara stood panting on the threshold, her countenance pale with fright.

I turned to her at once. "Clara?"

She burst into tears. "I do not know what is wrong with Papa," she blubbered, "he is shaking and shaking and the Crown Prince and I cannot hold him still - "

I had sprinted past the door even before she could finish.

***

"How did you know what to do, Tess?"

Papa's chambers were in a mess. There was vomit and blood splattered over the floor. The bedside cabinet had toppled when he had been convulsing on his bed, spilling his tonic and the jug of water all over it.

It was a good thing Clara had taken Tommy to her chambers. He would have been so frightened if he had seen him.

In the midst of all this chaos, I gently cradled Papa now in my arms on the bed as he slept, his breathing faint and laboured.

I still have today with Papa. I still have today.

Nick stood over the edge of the bed now, watching us, his expression haunted by what he had witnessed mere moments ago.

"He started having these convulsing attacks a few years ago," I informed him, "the physicians call it the falling sickness. A concoction of Mugwort usually helps in easing them, and that is what I gave him just now."

Lord Testalt, who was seated across me, eyed me solemnly. "Did these attacks start around the time your mother began blackmailing you?"

"Ned," Nick warned, glancing over at me.

Lord Testalt was surprised, looking between us. "He knows as well?"

"I had to explain, rather briefly, to Jules and Nick when I had apologised to them two years ago," I replied, taking a deep breath, "and you are right. The attacks began when my mother...my mother made good on her threat."

He caught the tremor in my voice. "You do not need to do this now," he told me softly, "it can wait."

The compassion in his voice almost drove me to tears in that moment.

Nick nodded in agreement. "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss the past," he frowned, "look at you, you are hardly in any state – "

I pulled myself together. "Nay, this conversation is long overdue," I interrupted him, "and it is with much difficulty that I have decided to go through with it. I owe you both the whole truth."

"You have told me and Julie before – "

"Nay, I have not been entirely honest with you both," I squeezed my eyes shut, "so please, brother, go and sit with Lord Testalt."

My brother-in-law gazed at me for a few moments in concern, before doing as told.

In the meanwhile, I adjusted Papa in my arms, careful not to wake him, as I sat upright. He coughed at the movement and winced in pain, and his sleep was disturbed for a moment. I smoothed his forehead gently, pressing a kiss to his brow, until he resumed his slumber.

Lord Testalt watched me, pained at his condition. "What is it?" he whispered, "what did Lady Rosanna do to him?"

"Poison," I swallowed, "the first time my mother added a few drops to Papa's meal was when I had tried to send a letter to you through a messenger - even after she had forbidden me to many times. She was frightened...frightened that I would cease following her plan, that her dreams would be shattered."

I closed my eyes, a shudder running through my body, as I remembered the first of the many awful days with terrifying clarity.

"I did not think she was serious about her threat," I released a shaky breath, "I swear, I did not, or else I would have never – " I could not finish.

Lord Testalt reached for my hand across the bed, and I let him grip it.

"But she was," I bit my lip, "Papa was confined to his bed with racking, bloody coughs, these convulsing attacks, breathlessness over the next few days. I was so scared...so scared I would lose him that week." I released a huge breath.

Nick's grey eyes were stormy with barely concealed hatred for my mother, as he listened to me - even though he had already heard a brief version of this tale before.

"The illness eventually passed on its own," I continued, looking down at my slumbering father, "and I learned my lesson. My mother is insane. And Papa...Papa has no idea, even to this day. He knows that she is bitter and hateful, but he does not know the extent to which – or what she has had me do – or what she has done to him - "

I cleared my throat to steady myself. "I also quickly realised that, the only way I had to save Papa and myself from her clutches, was to continue following her plan," I raised my eyes, albeit sheepishly, towards Nick, "and marry you in the future."

Nick's eyes softened in understanding, as he nodded.

"She wanted the wealth, the social standing from such a marriage - but I wanted the power," I still recalled the fire of my determination burning in my belly, "once I became a Crown Princess Consort, I thought I would have so much power, that no one would dare to even touch Papa again. I would have the power to send my mother away – far, far away - to a madhouse, where I would never have to see her for the rest of my life."

"I was twelve years old then, and I was already looking forward to the day I would be rid of my mother." I stated it coldly, unflinchingly.

"She was not much of a mother to you to begin with," Lord Testalt's voice betrayed his tightly controlled rage.

I nodded. "For the next ten years, I tried to do everything she told me to without a complaint.I fed Jules all sorts of lies to further fuel her hatred for Nick. I attended countless balls and soirees so that I could make allies among the wealthy and powerful. I visited and waited on the royal family so that they would grow fond of me," I listed, "and so on, you understand."

Chilling shivers crept down my spine when I recalled those days. Every ball I had attended had required meticulous planning by my mother - from what I was to wear, to how I would encourage the right sort of men to approach me during the event.

After all, as my mother loved to remind me often, a woman in this society did not make allies with her words, but with her body.

I was able to make very good allies.

"At one point, I was one of Queen Eleanor's favourites, and the most desirable bride among the nobility. My list of suitors was endless," I plunged on, "but everyone knew I was going to marry Nick one day."

"Yet, I went to bed every night during those years, despising what I had become. There was no one I could turn to, no one who would believe me even if I told them," I looked down at Papa in my arms, and sighed, "sleep only came to me because I knew Papa was still breathing in the chamber below mine."

I had almost forgotten that Lord Testalt and Nick were listening to me, until the former spoke.

"In return, did she leave Lord Thomas alone?" Lord Testalt asked me, "was he safe?"

I shook my head. "Nay. Although I tried my hardest to remain above reproach, she always found something to punish me for. She enjoyed the power," I was bitter, "in those ten years, she slipped Papa the poison seven times over – and each time, I would not realise she had done it until he fell ill. There was nothing I could do to stop her."

He looked away, sickened.

"She would have done so an eighth time. To punish me for...for not trying hard enough to prevent Nick and Jules from falling in love when he returned from Osterlund two years ago," I released a shaky breath, "if Clara had not caught her at it, quite by accident."

"Thank goodness," Nick murmured fervently.

"Indeed. She found out everything that day," I admitted, "and took matters into her own hands. She requested her suitor, Captain Robert Everard, to station a few Corporals - who would answer only to me - outside Papa's chambers, and to hire a group of tasters to taste his every meal, drink his every glass of water or juice, before he consumes them."

"They are godsends," I meant every word of it, "Papa was afforded every protection Robert could offer in his power. My mother lost the hold she had on me. My life...my life was my own at long last, and I was free to make amends, to become a better person."

There was silence, as the men reflected upon all that I had told them.

"If Lord Thomas has not been poisoned in two years now," Lord Testalt spoke up after a long time, hesitant, "then why is he so ill at the moment? Did anyone betray you?"

"Aye, I was wondering the same," Nick frowned.

"Until quite recently, I thought so. However, a thorough examination by the Castle Physician Jules had sent proved that was not the case," I revealed, taking a deep breath, "and I realised, that my mother has had the last laugh all along."

"Meaning?"

"The poison she had given him has been accumulating in his body over the years," I hugged Papa's sleeping form tighter to me, "and he has finally succumbed to it. His body is fast losing the battle, and as much as I have been praying and wishing otherwise...he will not recover."

My voice, as brittle as glass, broke into a thousand shards, and the both of them flinched instinctively.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I feel myself going insane, wondering every moment of the day, what else I should have done – or should not have done – so that Papa would be well," I ran a hand through my hair, "should I have kept my head down and did exactly as told? Created more misunderstandings between Nick and Jules? Served the royal family more often? Flattered those powerful Ladies of the Society more? Made more of an effort to s-seduce those men who..."

My lower lip trembled, and despite myself, a snippet of a long-suppressed memory barged its way to the forefront of my mind.

Dark red rouge, smudged. Pushed down. Long sleeves, ripped away. Lips sucking against skin. Eager hands grabbing, squeezing, kneading every bit of flesh they could find -

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears stick to the back of my eyelids. "What else should I have done?"

I heard Nick suck in a sharp breath. Lord Testalt's hand in mine grew cold.

"Seduce?"

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw were Lord Testalt's baby blue eyes boring into mine, blazing bright with fury, tinged with anxiety.

Even Nick had stood up, his shoulders tensed.

I smiled bitterly. "How else do you think allies are made in our society?" I whispered, "as if any man in power is willing to help a mere sixteen-year-old find favour at the royal court without wanting anything in return."

"But as I was often told, I was no ordinary sixteen-year-old," a choked sound left my throat, "I am bonny, buxom, breathtakingly beautiful." The words felt like a curse.

"They took advantage of you," Nick was horrified, "Tess, did they – "

I swallowed. "It is not rape when you consent to it."

Yet, to this day, no amount of washing and scrubbing could remove the memory of their touch from my body.

Lord Testalt shook his head vehemently. "You would have never consented if it were not for the question of your father's life," he was absolutely furious, "how could your own mother – "

"Hush," I hissed in warning, glancing down at my sleeping father, "Papa needs to rest. Do not wake him up, please."

Lord Testalt quietened at once, but he still trembled. He ran a thumb over my knuckles and held my hand tighter in support. I could feel the grief, the pain for me behind his anger radiating from him.

I understood.

"Ned, that chapter of my life has ended," I said softly, "there is no use raging about it now."

"But they hurt you," his voice was choked, and when he looked up at me, his eyes were full of unshed tears, "I want to kill every last one of them, starting with your mother – "

"'Tis over," I murmured, "it ended when Nick returned to Monrique, and married Jules. 'Tis over."

"I would have married you in a heartbeat if I had known," Nick's eyes were haunted, "if it had meant saving you from all of this."

A ghost of a smile played upon my lips. "Even if it meant giving up Jules?"

"Even then," he promised, "and Julie...Julie would have understood, more than anyone else. You are our family." His voice was choked with emotion.

I was touched. "That means a lot to me, brother," I admitted quietly, "thank you, truly."

I gazed down at Papa on my lap, and gently brushed a hand across his forehead. "In the end, none of it was enough to keep Papa healthy and alive," my voice shook, "I ruined all your lives, and my own, and it still was not enough."

A heavy silence fell between us.

"You should have told Julie all of this as well, when you apologised to us two years ago," Nick remarked after a long while, "none of it was your fault."

"By now, you should have realised that I never tell Jules the whole truth about anything," I sighed, "although she is kind and understanding, she jumps to conclusions too easily. If I had been entirely truthful, she would have assumed, in an instant, that I did what I did only because I wanted to protect Papa from my mother. Which would have defeated the purpose of my apologising to you."

"Well, that is true," Lord Testalt pointed out, "Lady Rosanna is entirely to blame – "

"Nay, she is not," I shook my head tiredly, "even before she began threatening me, I was willingly following the plan. I willingly tormented Jules, I willingly created misunderstandings between her and Nick, I willingly took advantage of your friendship to grow closer to Nick. Blaming my mother will not completely absolve me."

"But – "

"Even as young as we were, I knew you held me in special regard, Ned," I whispered, ashamed, "and I used it to my advantage. I am...I am truly no different from my mother."

Lord Testalt shook his head, his gaze clear of all resentment he was entitled to feel in this situation, as he gently squeezed my hand.

"Despite everything Lady Rosanna put you through, you had realised your mistakes. You had the courage to admit them, and make amends," he reminded me softly, "you saw past the materialistic dreams she tried to force on you, and learned to value love – for your family, for your friends, for Tommy."

"And that is something Lady Rosanna will never be able to do," Nick was solemn.

I raised my eyes to them, taking a deep breath. "I cannot change what has happened, or undo everything that I have done to the either of you," my voice was quiet, "nevertheless, I am deeply, deeply sorry for it."

Something changed in the air between us the moment I had uttered those words. A sense of calm and acceptance permeated the air, like the lingering petrichor after a heavy rainfall, like a glass of fresh orange juice in the summer, like the waves of the ocean washing away the sand stuck between my toes.

As Nick stood up and walked over to my side, and held my shoulders gently, Lord Testalt raised my hand to his lips, his baby blue eyes glistening with tears.

"Thank you."

***

The next few days flew past in a blur.

Papa requested that we lift the ban that Clara had placed against visitors. He was so weak at the moment that we did not have the heart to refuse him, and we relented. From the very next day forth, the Earls of the eleven earldoms that made up Roche began to arrive, one after another, to visit Papa, bearing fruits and well-wishes from their families.

The Manor had never been so full in a long while. While Clara and I were busy playing hosts to them, Papa, as exhausted and ill as he was, was having the time of his life with his friends.

All these Earls had grown up with him on this land, after all.

A loud hoot of victory could be heard from Papa's chambers now, as I edged the door open with my leg, carrying a tray of teacups.

Ten, middle-aged men were seated in chairs around Papa's bed, and a collective groan rose up among them.

Most of them had just thrown down their cards onto the bed in disappointment, as Lord Timothée Harrington, Earl of Johanne – Kat's father, and my favourite of all of Papa's friends - pumped his fists in the air happily.

"I won!" he cried, as he scooped up the small pile of money on Papa's lap.

"There goes all our money," Papa leaned against his pillows, sighing, "again."

"'Tis no use playing against you, Timothée. You always win," Lord Alexandre of Colmar muttered in disgruntlement.

"Tom, can we bar him from playing the next round?" Lord Edgar of Lyon looked to my father pleadingly, "I have no more money left to play with."

"Hear, hear!" the rest of them chorused.

"Oi, 'tis is not my fault all of you are horrible at poker," Lord Timothée shot back, sticking out his tongue at his friends.

Despite myself, I chuckled in amusement. It was difficult to believe all eleven of them in this chamber were between forty and fifty years of age, some with children and even grandchildren of their own.

"And I believe it is time for a break, gentlemen," I made my presence known, and lifted the tray in my arms, "here is some warm tea for all of you. All that discontentment must have tired you." I winked conspiratorially at Lord Timothée.

He burst into laughter. "At last, someone with a sense of humour," he bounced towards me, and took a cup of tea from my tray, "how are you this morning, my dear?"

"I am well, Uncle Timothée. Yourself?"

"Good, good," he nodded, before hesitating, "and did you – "

I knew what he was going to ask of me. "Aye, I received a letter from Harrin – I mean, from Kat just this morning," I answered gently, "she is happy, and she enjoys her work at the Academy. Not to worry."

He leaned forward. "My wife and I received one from her yesterday. She also told us that she is doing well," he confided in me, "but...she does not tell us everything. You know she does not. It makes us worry."

Indeed, she did not. Although Harrington assured me, in every letter, that she was safe and healthy, and described every amusing anecdote involving her fellow colleagues and students in great detail, she had wisely remained silent on matters pertaining to the royal family and the current political turmoil in the Longbournian Nations.

"You know she cannot. It would be risky to pen such matters in parchment, which can easily fall into the wrong hands and cause trouble for her," I murmured, "we must trust that she is well able to take care of herself, and handle everything that is thrown her way. She will be all right."

"You are right, my dear," he smiled sadly, "you are right. We must keep faith." With that, he slipped an arm in mine, and strode with me towards the rest of the Earls, who eagerly leaned forward to reach for a cup of tea.

"This is heavenly, Tess," Lord Alexandre sighed in satisfaction, as he sipped on his cup.

"I do not mind losing my money playing poker here every day for this cup of tea," Lord Edgar mumbled.

I inclined my head, chuckling. "Why, thank you."

"What about my cup?" Papa was bewildered, when he realised that I had not brought him any tea.

"Your morning glass is on its way, Papa," an amused smile tugged at the edges of my lips, as I craned my neck towards the door and called out, "Ned!"

"Ned?" he frowned, "why – "

Almost at once, I heard footsteps approaching the door.

"My apologies, Your Grace," Lord Testalt sprinted into the room just then, keeping a tight grip on a glass of dark, green liquid, "it took a little longer than I expected. Here you go." His cheeks were flushed, as he held out the glass towards Papa.

Papa eyed the glass suspiciously. "Is this the same concoction Tess prepares for me every day?"

I glanced at Lord Testalt, exasperated. His baby blue eyes held an impish twinkle, and he nodded at me reassuringly, before turning to Papa again.

"It is a different concoction," he assured Papa, grinning, "I have added many new ingredients to it, including some small chunks of your favourite marzipan."

That was news to me. "Did you now?"

However, light entered my father's tired eyes. "Marzipan?"

"Try it," Lord Testalt encouraged my father, "I promise you, Your Grace, it will be even better than the one Tess usually makes." He boasted with pride.

I elbowed him none too gently.

"I am trusting you, son," Papa warned him, as he took the glass from Lord Testalt with trembling hands, and raised it to his lips.

The both of us watched him carefully, as did the rest of his friends. His countenance, fearful at first as he took a sip, slowly morphed into wonder, then surprise, to wry acceptance.

"I can still taste the bitterness at the back of my throat," he made a face, before he broke into a small smile, "but it is better than the ones Tess prepares. Good job."

With that, he finished the rest of his glass without another word of complaint, happily munching on the bits of marzipan Lord Testalt had added to the drink.

His friends erupted into cheers. Papa, weak as he was, still argued and whined over having to drink the concoction every day, and today was the first time he had willingly drunk it on his own.

Lord Testalt shot me a victorious grin. I simply rolled my eyes.

At that moment, a familiar, high-pitched voice interrupted us, as the pitter-patter of small footsteps grew louder and louder.

"Tessie! Tessie!"

I paused, turning around. Tommy?

Another voice. "Goodness, Clara, catch that child!"

"He runs...too fast!"

Tommy burst into the chamber, clutching a scroll in his hands, as he beamed. Nick and Clara burst in behind him mere moments later, panting heavily.

"Are you all right?" Papa eyed them over his glass of concoction, his forehead creased.

"I am very well, Your Grace," Tommy grinned at him.

"I know you are well, little one," Papa chuckled in amusement, "I was speaking of the Crown Prince and Clara. They look like they might faint any moment now."

Indeed they did. I swore I saw Clara's orbs float out of focus for a few moments.

"He...had us...chase him...all the way from...the front gates, Papa," she gasped out, her cheeks red with exertion, before she looked up at me incredulously, "what...do you feed...the child...everyday, Sister-mine?"

"Aye," Nick was breathless, bending over to catch his breath, "he runs like the wind!"

"Do you mean to tell me that neither of you can run as fast as a five-year old?" Lord Testalt raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing his laughter.

"Well, I am not accustomed to running in the morning," Nick defended himself at once.

"And I am not accustomed to running at all," Clara muttered.

"You had best become accustomed to it, then. One of you is about to get married, and the other already has a child on the way," I reminded them wryly, as I strode towards Tommy, and knelt in front of him.

"Good morrow, mon ange," I smiled at him, "have you broken your fast?"

The child nodded excitedly. "I had some croissants, an apple and a glass of sweetened milk."

"Good boy," I grinned, before I noticed the scroll in his hand, "what do you have there?"

He held it out towards me. "I was playing in the gardens, when a messenger arrived to give this to you, Tessie. I ran as fast as I could," he informed me, puffing out his chest, "'tis from the Court of the Lady Justice." He added meaningfully.

My heart almost stopped beating in that moment, and the whole room grew quiet.

Lord, I had all but forgotten that I had taken my law exam last month.

"Your results?" Papa whispered from his bed, his voice filled with excitement, and he tried to raise himself from his bed.

"Oh, dear God," Lord Alexandre crossed himself, as he helped Papa sit upright against his pillows, "the Lord help us all."

"I am sure you will have done well, my dear," Lord Timothée assured me, "worry not."

"Go on, Tess, open it!" Nick bade me, his eyes alight with anticipation.

I was at a loss for words, as I took the scroll from Tommy with trembling hands and ran a finger over its smooth, red seal. The scroll was light in my hands, but the weight of its significance was far greater. This was the moment. I would know whether my two years of hard work had paid off or nay, whether I had achieved my dreams or nay.

I was, embarrassingly, afraid to open it.

"Tess," Lord Testalt's voice broke into my thoughts, quiet and encouraging, "you will not know until you open it. If you passed, then it is wonderful. If not, you can always try again. Either way, it is not the end of the world. All of us here, I am certain, are already most proud of you for having come this far."

I looked up at him. He was smiling at me, his baby blue eyes kind.

There was complete silence in the room again. Taking a deep breath, I carefully slit open the seal with my nail, and unrolled the scroll. At first, the words written on it seemed to swim across my vision, before they truly registered on my mind.

I read them again.

And again.

"Tessie?" Tommy touched my cheek, his little brows furrowed in worry.

I leaned forward to kiss away the furrow on his forehead. "I passed, mon ange. I passed."

A pandemonium almost broke out with those words in the chamber. Clara all but hauled me to my feet to pull me into a suffocating hug, as Nick, Tommy and Lord Testalt broke into a sort of happy dance in a circle around me.

All the Earls in the room were clapping poor Papa on the back, cheering and exclaiming how happy they were for me. Lord Timothée was throwing up the cards on the bed in his wild excitement, and Lord Alexandre was muttering a prayer under his breath, as Lord Edgar thumped the table.

The happiness in the air was refreshing.

Eventually, Clara dragged me towards Papa, and we walked into his outstretched arms from either side of him.

"My daughter, a Lady Justice of Monrique," Papa murmured, kissing my forehead, "my heartiest congratulations, child. I am so proud of you."

I smiled into his shirt.

"Clara, you could learn a thing or two from your sister," he teased, glancing down at her.

Clara merely stuck out her tongue at me, and hugged him tighter. He rubbed her shoulders, chuckling, before he gazed down at me for a long while.

"Are you happy, my dear?" he asked me warmly.

"Are you?"

"What a question," he was amused, "you are about to live your dreams. What can make me happier?"

His sapphire blue eyes, ringed with purple circles, had never looked as bright or as lively as they did now. His chapped lips were pulled up in a smile, and what remained of his skin on his face were stretching painfully over his cheeks to make it happen.

I returned his smile softly. "Then I am happy as well."

***

Later in the evening, Papa closed his eyes, leaning against his pillows. He listened to Tommy's gentle, rhythmic voice paint a portrait with words, as poetry often did.

" - as you spend your whole life

searching and pulling out

those thorns, you fail to see

that big, beautiful, blood

red rose you had plucked with

your own hands slowly lose

its heady scent and wilt,

inevitably, one soft,

soft petal by petal."

Tommy beamed happily when he reached the end of the poem, and closed the small, black book in his hands.

I was listening as well, from the doorway of the chambers, entranced. I had even forgotten the presence of Lord Testalt by my side for a moment, who had been quietly translating Tommy's words into English verses for my sake.

It had been written wholly in French, and unfortunately, my own mother tongue had never been my forte. However, I knew enough to realise that Tommy had not stumbled or made as many mistakes while reading this poem, as he had with my law books.

"He is more proficient in French than in English," I observed now with some surprise.

Lord Testalt chuckled sheepishly. "You know I have always preferred our native French literature. I have been reading them to him since he was a baby," he admitted, crossing his arms, "he has a better grasp of French, as a result."

The weak sound of applause interrupted whatever I had wanted to say.

"That was a beautiful poem, little one," Papa was praising the child, "simply beautiful. You read very well for your age."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Tommy grinned, "this is my favourite poem in the book." He patted the black book on his lap.

"May I see it?" Papa was curious.

Tommy gladly handed it to him. Papa began to flip through the pages, surprised to see them filled to the brim with words in Ned's small, neat penmanship.

"Raymond Edward Fourier," he murmured, fingering the name carved in the leather binding of the book, "does this book belong to your uncle, child?"

Tommy nodded, excitedly launching into a story about how his dear uncle had gifted it to him for his birthday. In the meanwhile, my eyes widened in astonishment, as I turned to Lord Testalt for an explanation. I knew he was an avid reader, but I had not known that he wrote verses as well.

"You wrote that poem Tommy just read to Papa? In truth?"

"Aye, in truth," he laughed, "it is a past-time of mine."

"Since when?" my forehead creased.

"Since the time I lived in Osterlund. There are a number of excellent poets in the Osterlundienne royal court, and I learned a lot from them about their craft, in the years that I lived there," he explained, "these are but a few of my humble attempts to write my own."

I nodded slowly. "I see."

He raised an eyebrow at my expression. "You still look altogether too surprised," he noted, "should I take offence?"

"Nay, nay, of course not," I chuckled, before conceding, "it was a good poem, Ned. I quite enjoyed it."

His lips curved up. "Thank you."

"Ah, speak of the devil, the poet himself is here," Papa exclaimed weakly just then, noticing us standing by the doorway, "come in, son. You too, Tess."

We strode into the chamber, and sank down on the stools next to the bed. Almost at once, Tommy happily climbed over Papa's legs to reach us, and Lord Testalt lifted him up onto his lap.

"Oncle Ned!" he beamed at him, before facing me, "Your Honour." He offered me a cheeky grin in greeting.

"Nay, mon ange," I rolled my eyes, "'tis still Tessie to you."

"All right, Tessie," he was almost bouncing on his uncle's lap in excitement, "did you and Oncle Ned hear the poem? Did I read it well?" He looked between the both of us.

"Very well," Lord Testalt grinned proudly, ruffling his hair, "no one else could have read it better."

"Indeed, I was most impressed," I added, laughing, "your French is much, much better than mine. Your uncle had to translate half the poem for me."

Tommy's eyes widened. "Truly?"

"Aye," Lord Testalt tried to keep a straight face, "Tess's French is simply terrible. There is no hope, none at all."

The child patted my hand sympathetically. "Worry not, you will get better soon, Tessie," he assured me, and passed me Lord Testalt's book of poems, "read this to me every day, and I will help you practice."

I raised an eyebrow, taking the book from him, as Lord Testalt burst out into laughter next to me.

"I will try my best," I elbowed the annoying man hard in the ribs, as I leaned forward to kiss Tommy's forehead, "thank you for offering, darling."

"You are very welcome," he beamed, "we can start right away - "

He stopped short when his gaze fell on the window. He sat upright at once, and peered over the edge, where the sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon yonder, in all its golden, blazing glory.

"Tommy?" my forehead creased.

"Oh, nay, I am sorry, Tessie. Mayhap we can work on your French tomorrow," he gave me a sheepish smile, " I did not notice the sunset. I promised Nick and Clara that I would play hide and seek with them in the evening."

With that, he jumped out of Lord Testalt's lap. "Please excuse me, Oncle Ned, Tessie, Your Grace," he bowed, before sprinting out of the chambers with all speed.

"Be careful, child!" I stood up, and called out after him.

"He will be all right, Tess," Lord Testalt assured me, "Nick will handle him."

I sighed, nodding. A long silence fell between us at that moment, and that was when I realised Papa had not spoken since we had entered the room.

I turned to look at him, anxious. However, he was simply gazing into space, lost deep within his thoughts, with a sad smile playing about his lips.

"Papa?" I waved a hand in front of his face, "Papa."

He blinked, returning to the present world. "Oh, yes, my dear?" he was sheepish, "what did I miss? Where is Tommy?" He looked about him.

"He went to play with Nick and Clara," Lord Testalt eyed him in concern, "are you all right, Your Grace?"

"I am all right. I am simply thinking."

I raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"Time passes by quickly, and I have so easily lost track of it," he mused almost inaudibly, "Tess, my dear, if you had married when most of your peers had, you would have had a child as old as Tommy now, nay?"

Oh, Lord. I grew acutely uncomfortable, and I felt Lord Testalt freeze next to me.

Papa, however, was not looking for an answer. "He or she would be running all over the Manor, making a right ruckus with his or her young friends," he dreamed, his orbs out of focus, "muddy footprints spotting the marble floors, breaking every glass ornament in the house..."

His words were beginning to paint a portrait in my mind that I had not thought of, and did not want to think about.

"Well, Papa...Tommy already does that," my voice was strained, "he is only on his best behaviour because this is not his home."

I desperately glanced at Lord Testalt to help me here.

"Indeed, you should see our Manor in Testalt, Your Grace," he obliged at once, "charcoal scribbles on the walls, coloured dyes splotches on the carpet, wooden toys all over the floor that my poor parents keep tripping over – "

"He is only a child, son," Papa chuckled weakly, "let him play as much as he wishes to. Soon enough, he will grow up into a fine young man, with a poet's heart - just like yourself."

I might be mistaken, but I swore I saw Lord Testalt blush at that compliment.

Papa took that chance to turn to me again, taking a deep breath. "But that is not my point, little one," he sighed heavily, "the point is, I have left you all alone. After I die, your mother cannot care for you like I have, Clara will soon marry Robert and leave Roche, and you will be left all alone here."

"I have been so focused on raising you to stand on your two feet, on grooming you for your job as the future Duchess of Roche, on your education, that I did not even notice the years pass by," he mumbled, "you should have been married by now. I have been neglecting my responsibility."

I relented at the pain in his voice. "Papa – "

"And every time I see you and Ned with Tommy these days, I cannot help..." his voice caught, "I cannot help but think of the wonderful mother you could have been, the future you could have had together." His blue eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

There was a pause, where I felt my heart stop in my chest, where the tension in the air solidified like ice.

Lord Testalt stiffened. "Your Grace?"

Unlike my mother, Papa had always been very sensitive to my emotions. He could tell in a moment what I felt, without my ever having to say a word.

As such, he had a vague idea about how...I felt about Lord Testalt.

"Papa," I warned quietly.

He did not heed me. "I will not lie to you, son," Papa glanced at Lord Testalt, his blue eyes solemn, "although I wish you every happiness in the world with Lady Evangeline...in my heart, I have always wished you for Tess."

Lord Testalt, for once, was at a complete loss for words. His baby blue eyes were wide, brimming with conflicting emotions. His full, red lips parted, shocked by the turn this conversation had taken.

But I? I was furious. Quite suddenly, years' worth of stress and frustration within me bubbled over, almost suffocating me.

I had dedicated my whole life to protecting and taking care of Papa. I had borne every blistering lash of torment from my mother, killed my heart and my soul over and over again with a dagger, destroyed every last shred of self-respect to sleep with all those nameless, faceless men – all so that he could remain safe and healthy, and live with Clara and me, in our own little world.

And now he had suddenly decided it was time to marry me off, and send me far and away from him, so that he could die alone in peace?

Something in me broke in that moment. "And I wish no such thing, Papa," I snapped, "has it ever occurred to you that I do not want to marry? That I want to stay and take care of you in Roche for the rest of my life?"

Papa flinched at the heat in my voice. "But I will not be here forever, child."

"Then let me stay until the end!" my eyes were blazing, "after that, I can take good care of myself. I have my family in Clara, Robert, Jules and Nick, and my friends in Kat, Liv, Ned and Lisa. I will be a Duchess and a Lady Justice. I will spend the rest of my life doing my duty to my people, and fulfilling all my responsibilities as expected of me. I will neither be lonely nor alone."

"But I will not marry anyone I cannot love or respect, simply because I am growing old and need to be married off," I was furious, "or give birth to pure, innocent children whom I can never love and cherish as much as they deserve to be, and end up destroying their lives like Mama did to me – "

"Tess."

I felt a gentle hand on my forearm. It was Lord Testalt. His voice was soft, but firm.

I fell silent, my chest heaving in breathlessness - and that was when I realised I had been yelling at the top of my voice for the past few minutes.

"You are scaring your father," he remarked quietly.

I turned my head to look at Papa, blinking away the hot tears stinging my eyes to see him properly. His countenance was paler than it already had been, his sapphire blue eyes were wide with shock. He was stunned. He was stunned into silence, and I hated it that I had upset him when he was already so ill.

A single tear rolled down my cheek. "I love you, Papa," I whispered, "why is that not enough?"

Papa gazed at me, the pain in my voice brimming in his eyes. "I love you too, little one," he murmured, "and I only want you to be happy. You know I will be nothing but a burden to you till the day I die."

"I am happy," my vision blurred, "I am happiest with you. You are the only person who has ever made me feel safe and loved in this world...and you have always, always been the biggest blessing in my life."

Feeling my emotions choke my throat, I shook off Lord Testalt's hand on my forearm, and strode out of the chambers, so that I could be miserable alone.

Little did I know, that was the last time I would see my father alive.

***

A/N: The poem in this chapter is the last verse of a poem that I had written a couple of years ago. I usually write in free verse - something I am aware may not have existed in this time period - so please pardon me for the anachronism.

This is the poem in its entirety (and original form), if you want to read it:

You know fear well
as that chilling tidal wave
of dark, dark helplessness
that swallows you whole
heart, mind and soul
freezing you on the spot,
when you are forced to
face something that
you'd rather not, nay,
not in a million years.

But fear is also those
teeny, tiny thorns stuck
beneath your skin
constantly prickling and
making you second guess,
every minute and every day,
every decision you make
every word you speak -
or don't make
or don't speak.

As you spend your
whole life searching
and pulling out
those thorns, you
fail to see that
big, beautiful, blood
red rose
you had plucked with
your own hands,
lose its heady scent
and wilt,
slowly, inevitably,
one soft,
soft petal,
by petal.