When Rebecca packed to return to St. Clare’s a week later, she found the letters Michael had left in her night table. It was a thick stack, tied with ribbon, with her name on the first letter. She fingered the ribbon, wondering how long the letters had been in the drawer. She was stronger now, but she knew she was not strong enough to revisit the pain of loving Michael. So she locked the package in her desk to read another time.
As before, she returned to St. Clare’s without Davis. The difference now was that she had Ava to keep her occupied. Though she still felt affection for Davis, the deep longing and pain of separation was gone.
In September, Susanne brought the cousins to St. Clare’s for a visit. Michael remained behind. While she was gone, Michael broke his own unwritten rule and one drunken night brought a housemaid to his bed. By the time Susanne came home, Mrs. Bailey had taken care of the situation and there was a new maid in her place.
Chapter Twenty-Five
July 1778
“Dear Rebecca,
I am sorry about the delay in my writing to you. Much has happened since I saw you at Christmas. I have purchased a practice here in Lisburn. It is a quiet town, very peaceful, and I feel very much at home here. The most exciting news is that I will be married in November. Her name is Cathleen Garvey and we will be married in her church; Cathleen is Roman Catholic. I have decided to convert to her faith so that she will be able to have her wedding in her family’s church. Cathleen works with me in my practice, assisting me as a nurse. I have never been happier, Rebecca. She is the dream I never believed existed. Her family is open and welcoming. At first, her father had his doubts as I am not Catholic, but her mother has helped him to come around. Her family is well-off, moreso than many of their Catholic neighbors as Mr. Garvey makes his living as a tailor and owns his own shop…”
Tristan’s letter was dated May 26, Ava’s first birthday. He had left for Ireland two years before hoping to begin his own medical practice. Instead he worked with an old doctor who had apparently now retired and his patients would now become Tristan’s. Rebecca wondered if she would ever have the opportunity to meet his wife.
The war in the colonies dragged on. Back and forth it went, with the government declaring imminent victory one week, then stewing about possible defeat the next. England’s enemy the French now rallied to the colonies aid increasing the likelihood that this would be a long, drawn-out engagement.
************************
Davis left to meet Michael at Elysian Fields in his new carriage. He had recently been made a Viscount and was wealthier than ever. His work and fatherhood had kept him from Elysian Fields for over a year, and he hadn’t seen Michael alone since before Ava’s birth.
Years before when he first purchased the estate, Davis had not intended to keep it for himself. But Michael’s reluctance to live there forced a change of his immediate plans. Now that Michael seemed happy managing the estate and had a family to pass it onto, Davis had his solicitor change the deed over to Michael. He was excited about the prospect of gifting his best friend what was his birthright; but he knew the matter should be handled with sensitivity and decided to make the presentation to Michael while Susanne was in London visiting Rebecca. Both she and Rebecca would arrive with the children the next day in the old carriage Davis intended to give to Susanne.
As his carriage drove past the gates and down the long stretch toward the house, Davis was proud to see that the money he had poured into the estate had been worth it. Lawns dried from years of neglect were lush and green. The orchards produced some of the best cider in the region. A long neglected maze had been pruned and opened and was now one of the estate’s most noted features. So many landscaping features had been neglected for so long that it was easier to replace them than to repair them. The exception was the centuries old statuary, chipped and stained from exposure. Michael liked the contradictory effect the ancient looking figures gave amidst the neat, clean landscaping.
Michael warmly greeted Davis. “Welcome, old friend!” he said.
“Old?” Davis said, pretending to be offended, then laughed. “I suppose you’re right; we’re not young men anymore, are we?”
They easily slipped into the familiarity that comes with a lifetime of friendship. They were no longer young men, true, but despite detours and bumps in their road, dreams delayed or deferred, they had survived, their friendship as strong as it had ever been. Davis pleasantly mused on this as Michael showed him the newly completed restoration of the north wing. Both enjoyed the blessing of a family, Michael with Susanne and his sons and Davis with Rebecca and Ava. Believing that the birth of his first child had ended the drought, Davis was disappointed that Rebecca had not become pregnant again. They were still young enough, he thought, to continue to hope there would be a fifth Baron.
Davis was too full of excitement to finish the tour and suggested they go to the library for a drink.
Michael teased “It’s only four, Davis. You must be picking up my bad habits.”
“It was a long drive from London. Besides, I have something for you.”
“Unless it’s a good bottle of whisky, I’m not interested,” he replied.
When they were in the library, Michael poured scotch for Davis and whisky for himself. Davis pulled the deed from his jacket and handed it to Michael.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“A gift.”
Michael felt a vague uneasiness. “Well I can always use more paper, Davis. Someday I may have another creative idea. I suppose you don’t have a pen also, do you?”
“Open it, Michael,” Davis said softly. Michael unrolled the papers and read. “It’s yours, Michael. The house, the land, everything, free and clear. For you and Laurence and Laurence’s son,” he explained unsure of how to read Michael’s silence.
“I see,” he said still staring at the document.
“Aren’t you pleased?” Davis asked.
Michael forced a half-hearted smile. “Of course. Elysian Fields is mine.” It was the final nail: wife, children, title, land, he now had it all. He had never felt more trapped.
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Dinner was excellent, as always. In fact, everything was excellent, Michael decided, food, drink, air. Giddy from the whisky and claret, he just wanted to enjoy his last night of freedom before Susanne returned. There was a maid who he knew was very friendly with one of the footmen. Maybe she had a friend who was equally friendly who might be able to pry Davis off his pedestal long enough for some fun. He suggested this to Davis.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Michael,” he answered. Davis was confused and disappointed at what appeared to be Michael’s rejection of his gift. Michael had thanked him, but the strain was obvious and now he was becoming ugly. All the years he had known him, Michael had never been an obnoxious drunk; quick to anger, yes, but never this rude.
Michael laughed. “That’s right, Davis. You would never actually commit adultery, would you? You will fantasize about it, though. So close your eyes and just fantasize.” Michael closed his eyes and lay back in his chair with a disgusting smile. “Think about some dairymaid and her lovely tits, Davis.”
Davis threw his napkin down and rose from the table. “You’re being an ass now, Michael.”
Michael followed him into the library, bumping into a chair along the way. Davis poured himself a scotch. “I’m sorry, Davis. You are right, I am an ass. But I have always been and you have always loved me in spite of it. Pour me a drink, Davis.”
“You have had enough.” Davis was angry, but kept his temper in check.
“Fine, I’ll get it myself,” Michael said and poured a glass, spilling some on the table and floor. Davis sat down on the sofa, determined to calmly finish his drink then retire to his room. When Michael was sober, they could talk, but there was no point now.
Michael flopped down next to Davis, somehow managing to not spill a drop. “Now that’s talent!” he said and Davis laughed in spite
of his anger. “There, I knew I could make you love me again.”
“What is it?” Davis asked. “Are you worried about the expense of running the estate? You can do this; I’ve watched you manage the estate and keep it in the black. You have a head for business.”
But Michael was shaking his head violently. “No, no, no! You don’t understand; you never have.”
“Is it your writing? You can still do that—“
“This is not the life everyone wants, Davis!” Michael interrupted. “We are not all cut out to be the lord of the manor and Parliament and the land like you!”
“Then what is it you want, Michael? What is it that will make you happy?”
“Why Davis? Will you give that to me as well? Will you buy me my happiness?”
Davis wrinkled his brow in confusion. “I just thought that you would want your family’s estate, a future for you and your family, the freedom to do what you wish with your life.”
“You haven’t given me freedom, Davis! You’ve given me a prison sentence. Now I will never be free of this place and its memories!” The room was silent save for the ticking of the clock. Michael smashed his drink into the fire. A bright flame erupted from the sudden splash of alcohol. “This is your life, Davis, not mine,” he said rubbing his forehead vehemently.
“I’m sorry,” Davis said, stunned.
Michael laughed sardonically. “It is not your fault, Davis. You just want the people you love to be happy. I believe that may be your purpose in life. And I have always loved you despite this. Though not the love you want from me.”
Davis cringed inwardly. Michael stood up and poured another drink. Davis gulped his, hoping to numb himself. A maid knocked at the door and came in, alerted by the sound of the breaking glass. Michael shook his head and waved her out.
“We should probably get some sleep,” Davis said after an eternity of silence.
But Michael was not finished. “Do you still love me more than you love Rebecca?” he asked.
“That is irrelevant.”
“Answer the question.”
Davis closed his eyes in anguish. “You know I do.”
“You see, Davis, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you love Rebecca and I don’t believe that you love me. You only love what we give you. Rebecca for instance; with her you have a position in society, a hostess, an adoring wife and now an heir. I’m sorry, I meant an heiress, a beautiful little baroness. Your father would be almost proud. Your mother would be very proud, though.”
“Stop,” Davis said.
“As for me, you love that I represent the part of you that you can hide from the world. I am the rebellion you harbor, your resentment for not having a say in your own life. I am the excuse for why you will not love Rebecca completely.”
“That is not true.”
“Do you realize that you have bought us both, Davis?”
“I’m not going to listen anymore,” he said rising and walking toward the door.
“Good God, Davis, I am your mistress only you can’t fuck me! But you can buy my security and to you that is close enough to love. Of course you could fuck your wife, but you don’t want to do that, do you? What would happen if you finally admitted the truth to yourself, Davis?”
“And what is the truth, Michael?” (What is truth? said Pilate…)
“We are damaged,” he answered dramatically gesturing to himself and Davis. “We cannot be happy. We don’t believe that we are worthy of being loved. I lie to myself and say it doesn’t matter. But you, Davis, you enjoy flagellating yourself with my rejection all the while pushing away someone who really does love you.” Davis winced. He had no response, but Michael did not seem to expect one. “What would happen if you allowed yourself to be happy, Davis?”
“I was happy, Michael,” he answered in a quiet voice. “Once. I would have given up my title, my position, my money. But you didn’t want me or my love,” he finished.
Michael sighed in exasperation. “We were children, Davis. It was just sex.”
Davis shook his head sadly. “Not for me, Michael.”
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After Davis went to bed, Michael remained in the library drinking. Sober he would know that he had lashed out at Davis unfairly. But whisky made him mean and he wanted Davis to hurt rather than admit that giving Michael ownership of Elysian Fields was tantamount to putting it back in bankruptcy. This time his failure would affect Susanne, Laurence and Francis, the very people he was supposed to protect. Davis believed in him, he wanted the best for him, but Davis had always been blind to Michael’s dark self-loathing. Even Susanne couldn’t see it. Only Rebecca saw the vulnerability in him.
He knew he was like Davis, unable to accept happiness as his due. When he came dangerously close to contentment, he did his best to push the people who loved him away. He had done it with Davis, freezing him out when they returned from Italy; he had tried to do it to Susanne, but she blindly accepted his infidelities. That they actually loved him in spite of his faults might have occurred to him, but in the grip of his self-pity, it was easier to resent them for their weakness.
It was Rebecca he thought of now. He had offered himself to her and she had been wise enough not to accept him. She knew that he could not leave Susanne. For all his selfishness, he was still unable to abandon his responsibility to his family. He loved Rebecca for this and for the fact that she had been stronger than him and had gone on with her life. It could never be the same between them, though, and he lost more than a lover and a friend; he lost the only person who accepted him for the person he was, not the person they wished him to be. And now there was Ava, whose eyes were Michael’s, more so even than Francis, and who he could never acknowledge.
The deed was in his name. Elysian Fields would pass onto Laurence upon his death. Susanne and Francis would also be cared for through his estate. Ava belonged to Davis. She would grow up a wealthy, loved baroness. He knew that Davis would take care of them all. It was what he did best.
In the early dawn, as the birds were waking from their slumber, Michael took out an old rifle that had belonged to his father. He had never shot it, Michael not being a fan of blood sports, but he knew how to load it.
He walked to the woods, far from the house. He knew he could do it; for once he would succeed at something.
*************************
A farmer looking for his runaway dog found Michael’s body. It was decided by the sheriff that Michael must have gone hunting in the early morning, fell and accidently shot himself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The male servants prepared Michael’s body for burial. A casket had been brought from London, sent by Cavanaugh at Davis’ orders. Rebecca supervised the household’s preparations for the funeral lunch, making that sure everyone stayed on task.
She would have believed that the worst moment was the animal howl of anguish from Susanne when she was told. “No. No. No!” she screamed, over and over as Rebecca guided her to her room. Alice, the boys’ nurse, took the three shocked children to the playroom. There were the sobs of the household, the vacant look from Davis, and the pain she would not feel. But the worst moment was when Rebecca told Laurence that his father was gone and would not return. Old enough to understand ‘gone’ but too young to comprehend ‘death’, he just asked the same question: “But why won’t he be back?”
When Rebecca cried after the funeral, when all the mourners had left, it was for her and Michael and the love they had shared. She cried all night in the room she had spent her best moments with him an eternity ago; not her bedroom, but the drawing room. Strangely, it was Gaines who comforted her.
Rebecca wrote to Johanna. She didn’t know if the letter would ever reach her, but it was done. There was a notice in the London Times of the death of the writer The Eighth Earl of Wickingham, Michael Brooks, again courtesy of Cavanaugh. She knew that it would be months before the estate was settled, but when the legalities were finalized Laurence would
be the ninth Earl and inherit Elysian Fields and all its holdings; Francis would be receive a sizeable allowance; and Susanne, who had her own income, would be allowed to remain at Elysian Fields the rest of her life.
In his will, Michael left Davis his signet ring. Gaines found it in the jumble of jewelry that Michael owned but never wore.
Davis could not make the decisions that needed to be made. Rebecca made the arrangements for both families to leave for St. Clare’s. Susanne did not want to go, but Rebecca knew that her sanity depended on it.
But it was no better at St. Clare’s. She had expected Susanne’s inconsolable grief; but Davis, who had always been so strong, was emotionally overwhelmed as well. She didn’t know that every moment he blamed himself, believing that it was his love for Michael, his desire to care for him, the reason he purchased Elysian Fields, the reason he gave it to Michael, that all this was why Michael had killed himself. He would like to accept the accident theory, but Davis knew the frame of mind Michael had been in that last night and frankly for months before.
It never occurred to Davis that Michael’s unhappiness could only be eased by Michael. This was his friend, his brother, the person he loved most and it was inconceivable to Davis that he couldn’t save Michael from himself. And when he looked at Rebecca, so loving, so trusting, he hated himself even more. He should never have married her knowing that he could never commit to her fully. He knew that ultimately he would ruin her life the way that he had ruined Michael’s.
After several weeks of watching Davis grieve, unable to comfort him and unsure of what to do, Rebecca found herself torn between feelings of frustration and desperation. Davis barely ate, preferring to numb himself with scotch. He departed in the morning and came home late. She wondered if he was avoiding her. Even what little time he spent with Ava he remained distant and unfocused.
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