by Rose Pearson
Looking down into her beautiful, gentle face, Jacob tried to find the words to explain but could not do so.
“You must rest,” Arabella cried, as he swayed slightly. “Please, sit down.” She made to help him back into his seat beside the desk but Jacob shook his head, jerking away from her. He could not allow her to touch him, not when he knew that all he wanted to do was drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He could not break her heart after doing such a thing as that, could he? That would be even more cruel than what he was about to do.
“Jacob.” Arabella’s voice was softer now, her eyes growing a little wide. “What is the matter? You are beginning to worry me.”
“Arabella,” Jacob whispered, no longer able to look at her. Setting his hands on the table, he leaned over the desk, staring down at the crumpled letter and the blue ribbon. “We must end our engagement.”
It was as though all the air had been pulled from the room at once. There was nothing but stunned silence, the tension growing steadily as Jacob fought for breath. He did not want to end their engagement, did not want to ruin their happiness, but he could not allow Sara’s future to be in danger.
But nor could he allow Arabella to marry Lord Winchester.
“No.”
The word burned on his lips and he let out a gasp, struggling to make what was a near impossible decision.
“What are you saying, Jacob?”
Arabella’s voice was shaking, her whole body trembling as he finally lifted his head to look at her. She had gone as pale as milk, her eyes already glistening with tears.
“Are you truly wanting to bring our engagement to an end?” Her voice grew louder, tears spilling down onto her cheeks. “Even though you promised me that this was not what you were seeking, even though you practically begged me to trust you. I have given you everything I have, Jacob. I have given you my trust, I have given you my love. I have given you my heart, safe in the knowledge that you will hold it carefully and gently, believing that you loved me in return.” She made no effort to wipe her tears away, obviously struggling to contain everything she felt. “Why would you say such a thing now, Jacob?”
“Because I must.”
The words were spoken unwillingly and yet Jacob knew they were the truth. Looking at her, he made to reach for her hand, only to stop himself with an effort.
“But why?”
It was a question he could not answer. His throat ached with unspoken heartache, feeling as though he were shattering everything that had grown between them in that one moment.
“You cannot tell me?” Arabella had folded her arms about her waist, as though protecting herself from his words. Her eyes roved around the room, landing on the desk, on the letter and the blue ribbon – and something changed in her expression. “Or is it that you will not tell me?”
Closing his eyes, Jacob ran one hand through his hair, his mind scrambling for an answer. “I have struggled with this, Arabella. I have been in torment over it!”
“So you do not love me as you have professed.”
His head shot up. “I have never had a single day in my life where I did not love you as dearly as I do now.”
Arabella shook her head, disbelief beginning to enter into her damp eyes. “I do not know what to think, Jacob,” she said, brokenly. “You will not explain and so I am left entirely bereft of your love and confused by your actions.” Turning away from him, she began to walk towards the door, her shoulders shaking visibly. “You have quite broken me, Jacob.”
Every single part of him was screaming to go after her, to grasp her by the arms and kiss her soundly until she could no longer even entertain the idea that he did not love her. He wanted to tell her every single thing, wanted to ask her to help him find a way through Lord Winchester’s deceitful ways, but no words came to his lips. It was as though he was fixed to the floor, unable to move or even speak as she walked away from him.
“I do hope that you will find happiness with whomever it is you have settled for.”
Arabella’s words were whispered and sorrowful but she did not turn to look at him as she spoke, keeping her back towards him.
“I fear that I shall never be able to love another for all the rest of my days,” she continued, pulling the door open slowly. “Perhaps this is my punishment for not accepting you the very first day you asked, long before the army… before any of this.” A quick glance was all she gave him, fresh tears sliding down her already damp cheeks. “Goodbye, Jacob. I do not think we shall see each other again for some time.”
“No, Arabella, wait.”
He was stumbling after her, his hoarse words escaping from his throat as the door began to close behind her.
And then, his leg crumpled beneath him and he fell, hard, the pain shooting all through him and stealing his breath. Lying there on the floor, Jacob felt every single bit of hope and happiness drift away from him and escape under the door, making their way towards Arabella. He could have no contentment now, no joy, no delight. Everything he had shared with Arabella was gone in a moment, and it had all been of his own doing.
Jacob hated himself, in that moment. He hated how weak and frail he was, how poor in both spirit and body. He had allowed Lord Winchester to reign victorious, all because he was too weak to protect his own sister and the woman he loved. His mind could think of no solution to the problem that Lord Winchester presented, meaning that he had to allow Arabella to leave. He could not go after her now. The decision was made and he had done the only thing he could to protect Sara.
Silently, Jacob began to weep, pushing himself up to a sitting position in the middle of his study floor. He had never wept over Arabella before, nor had he cried about the horrors of war and what he had been forced to endure. But it all came out from him now, regret and sadness spilling over into tears. He could not bear the thought of Arabella returning to Lord Winchester, could not imagine what her life would be beside such a gentleman and, even though he was struggling with his own torment and distress, Jacob quietly vowed that he would not allow such a thing to occur. Even if he could not marry Arabella himself, he would not allow Lord Winchester the victory in this matter.
He loved Arabella too much to allow Lord Winchester to be her husband. In that, he was quite determined.
“Oh, Arabella,” he whispered, brokenly. “Whatever have I done to you?” struggling to get to his feet, Jacob forced himself to stand, blinking back the last of his tears. He had made his choice and, as much as he hated it, he would have to face the consequences of such a decision.
Leaning on the desk for support, he made his way around to his chair and sat down heavily. The blue ribbon of Lord Winchester’s note mocked him, the crumpled note jeering at him as though Lord Winchester himself was present. Furious and desperate in equal measure, Jacob thumped the desk hard with his fist, knowing that he would never be able to remove the image of Arabella from his mind as she had stood here before him, her eyes bright with tears.
His heart ached and yet he forced himself to pull out a piece of parchment, in order to write a short note to Lord Winchester. He would not burn the letter as Lord Winchester had instructed, for he was not as eager to please Lord Winchester as all that! As he penned the short note, informing Lord Winchester that there was now no engagement between himself and Arabella, Jacob felt his heart slash itself to ribbons within his chest. The love he had for Arabella remained within him, reminding him of the choice he had made, of the cruel, terrible decision he had come to. It would be just as Arabella had said. He would never love another, just as she would never find another to take his place in her heart. Even though he was to be the Duke one day, Jacob could not even consider the idea of taking a wife and producing the next heir, for to be husband to anyone other than Arabella seemed wrong.
Signing the note, Jacob sanded it and then sealed it, hating every single action he took to make the gap between himself and Arabella permanent. Ringing the bell, he waited for the butler to arrive, ready to hand him
the note and instruct him to dispatch a servant with it. His head ached, blackness seeming to swirl around him until it began to make its way into his very bones.
“I am a fool,” he muttered, as the door closed behind the butler who now bore the note for Lord Winchester. Lowering his head to the desk, Jacob drew in ragged breaths, trying to keep a steady hold of his composure but finding that he was becoming more and more distraught. He had lost Arabella forever it seemed, forced to this action by Lord Winchester. There was nothing but hatred for what Lord Winchester had done, but Jacob knew that he was also angry with himself for being unable to find a way out, to find a way to defeat Lord Winchester’s dark plans.
He will go to her now.
At this thought, Jacob’s head shot up, his determination suddenly rising within him. Reaching for another piece of parchment, he urgently wrote out another short note – this time, to Arabella. He did not linger over explanations, nor did he make any sort of excuse for his writing to her in such a manner. All he wrote was the truth of what he knew, his eagerness to keep Arabella safe from Lord Winchester’s clutches growing steadily.
Another ring of the bell, another note dispatched to the butler’s care. Jacob had nothing other to do than sit alone in his study and consider all that he had done. His leg pained him terribly, but it was nothing compared to the agony that was in his heart. Shadows crept through the room but he did not notice, sitting for hour after hour at his study desk, regret over his decisions growing steadily.
Until it became late, the dinner gong sounded, and his sister came to the door to fetch him. Jacob looked up at her with dull, lifeless eyes and felt the sting of what he had done all over again. Sara’s compassion, her care and consideration did nothing for his heart, did not help soothe nor heal the self-inflicted wounds.
All he felt was pain.
Chapter Sixteen
Arabella was not quite sure how she had managed to return home, for such was the numbness in her limbs that she was now quite certain that she would not be able to rise to her feet, not even if she wished it. She was sitting alone in the small library, trying to make sense of everything that had occurred and finding that there was no understanding to be had.
Jacob had broken off their engagement with no explanation whatsoever and, in that one moment, her entire world had seemed to come crashing to the ground. The love she had for him still rang through her, true and strong, but she could no longer trust whether or not Jacob really cared for her.
All she could see was the note on the desk and the blue satin ribbon that had tied it.
Did Jacob love another? Had he been playing her for a fool?
Her head began to ache as tears slipped from her eyes. She did not want to believe it of Jacob, for that would go against the sort of man she believed him to be – but what other explanation could there be? His decision to wait for a sennight before they announced their engagement became clear now. He had been uncertain about their future and had wanted to ensure that all that he felt was real and true. Apparently, he had found himself wanting and therefore had called an end to their betrothal.
Arabella was glad, at least, that her mother had gone out for the evening, leaving her to sit alone. Lady Martindale had a Ball this evening and although Arabella’s mother had tried to convince her to attend, Arabella had not wished to go out into society. Her mother had been too distracted with her new gown and the hopes of reuniting herself with some old acquaintances to notice Arabella’s distress. Arabella had to confess that she quite preferred such a thing, given that her mother would not be of much comfort.
A scratch at the door stole her attention for a moment. “Yes?” Her voice was wavering and she was quite certain that she appeared both pale and wan. Tears were still on her cheeks and she dashed them away as best she could, not wanting to start any rumours amongst the staff about her current state.
“There is a note for you, Lady Arabella.”
Arabella accepted the note from the butler’s hand and looked at it with distress growing in her heart.
“It arrived some time ago, Lady Arabella but with all the preparations for Lady Blackford’s departure, I am afraid that it was quite forgotten about for some time, and I must beg your forgiveness.”
Arabella’s throat closed up as she recognized the seal on the back of the letter, feeling almost glad that the butler had mislaid Jacob’s note. She might not have been able to read it previously, such had been her distress. “It is quite all right,” she said, with a wave of her hand although her voice was rasping. “You need not worry. I thank you.”
There was silence for a minute or two. The butler did not move, even though Arabella had no more need of him.
“Lady Arabella, might I be so bold as to suggest a dinner tray be brought to you?”
Arabella looked up, a little confused. “I beg your pardon?”
The butler looked as though he wanted to drop through the floor, and Arabella realised that her tone had been rather sharp.
“I only meant to suggest that you have not eaten in some time and that it is growing rather late,” the butler said, bowing at the waist. “A tea tray perhaps?”
Arabella could not quite muster a smile but nodded. “Is it very late? Oh dear, I see that it is. Yes, of course.” She saw the flash of relief in the butler’s expression as he raised his head and felt her heart lift just a little at his kind consideration. “A little toast perhaps also.”
“At once.”
Arabella waited until the butler had left the room before she returned her attention to the note. Breaking the seal, she slowly unfolded the note with trembling fingers, her heart slamming hard against her chest, leaving her almost breathless.
‘My dearest Arabella,’ she read. ‘Lord Winchester will, no doubt, soon be at your door to offer you his hand yet again. If I can do nothing else, I must beg of you not to accept him. I know that your distress and your pain will be great, but Lord Winchester seeks to prey on those and use them to his advantage. Pray, do not allow him to succeed, Arabella. He will remove all happiness from you, I am quite sure of it.’
That was all the note said. There was no explanation, no begging of her forgiveness for his cruelty, no simple lines that told her he had made a dreadful mistake. All there was from Jacob was the hope that she would not return to Lord Winchester.
Anger burned in her heart, pushing through her pain and distress. How dare Jacob attempt to give her any sort of advice as to whom she chose to marry after he had so grievously broken her heart? She was not silly enough to think that Lord Winchester was a good match, not even when her heart was broken into pieces, but for Jacob to beg her not to even entertain Lord Winchester seemed both ridiculous and unwelcome.
“How dare he?”
Confusion turned to frustration. Pain turned to anger. Sadness turned to fury. Jacob had given her no explanation as to why he was ending their engagement, had not permitted himself to be truthful with her. He had never once suggested that there was anything the matter, nor had he even discussed any particular issues he might have been considering. Why then, having released her from their engagement, did he think to write to her now and insist that he knew what was best? It was both rude and extremely presumptuous, Arabella decided, finding that her eyes were no longer filled with tears.
Her anger was abated only slightly by the arrival of the tea tray, which Arabella had to admit did look quite welcoming. Smiling at the maid so that she might relieve some of the concern that was on the girl’s face, Arabella forced herself to wait until the maid had left the room before returning her thoughts to Jacob. Had she not seen the blue silk ribbon on the desk? Had she not noticed the crumpled note? Had Jacob been attempting to hide it from her, given that she had arrived quite swiftly? Was that why he had looked so pale, as though he were ill?
Suddenly, it all became clear. Arabella lifted her chin, filled with a fierce determination. She was going to discover the truth, whether Jacob wished to tell her or not. She would speak
to him over and over until he told her everything, or she would find out for herself who had written such a note.
Draining her teacup, Arabella chewed her toast carefully, her mind working hard. Lady Martindale’s ball was, of course, quite the event, and Arabella was sure that the Duke and Duchess would have been invited. The invitations would also have been sent to Jacob and to Sara, for they would not have been overlooked. That meant that the house would be almost empty, save from one or two servants. It was, as her own staff had reminded her, quite late, which meant that she would not be seen should she decide to take a short stroll all on her own.
Finishing her toast, Arabella poured another, smaller, cup of tea and added another dash of milk. She sipped this whilst she mulled over what was at stake, realising that her dear mother would be quite horrified should she ever discover what Arabella intended to do.
“But,” Arabella said aloud, rising to her feet, and setting the cup down carefully on the tray. “If I am discovered, then the engagement will have to continue and we shall be wed regardless.” That was not an entirely unwelcome outcome, given that she still loved Jacob desperately, but all the same, Arabella was hopeful that she would not be seen. Hurrying to the writing desk in the corner, she quickly penned a short note – saying nothing more than a brief thank you for the advice Jacob had given her – and sealed it as quickly as she could. Then she hurried from the room and made her way to her bedchamber, where she might prepare herself for tonight’s adventure.
“I am aware that it is terribly late, but this is of the utmost urgency!”
Arabella did not smile at the butler, aware that her severe expression would do all that was required.
“Lord Jacob is not at home, my lady.”
“Then I must put this where he will find it,” she insisted, stepping swiftly over the threshold before the butler could say a word, her tired and slightly confused maid trailing behind her. “The study, mayhap?”
