‘We all care a bit.’
‘But I’ve let it control me.’ Lydia sniffed and then lifted her chin up, her voice gradually gaining in strength. ‘I know I’ve been cruel to you in the past, but the truth is, I was jealous. You’ve always been so content in yourself. You never needed other people’s attention.’
‘It’s all right, Lydia.’
‘No, it’s not. I should have been kinder to you after your accident, but part of me was relieved that you weren’t so beautiful any more, that I wasn’t going to be replaced by my younger sister. I knew it was wicked at the time, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I hated myself for being so shallow, but somehow that only made it worse.’
‘You don’t have to hate yourself, Lydia. I know that things haven’t been easy for you either.’
‘Do you?’ Lydia gave a sob. ‘You know, everyone always said that I was the most beautiful girl in Whitby, that I’d make a great match. They said it so often that I never even stopped to think about whether I actually wanted it. I just went along with their expectations. John didn’t have a title, but he was still important and he was kind to me. I loved him in a way, but I was never in love with him. Then, after he died, I needed to prove that I was still the most beautiful, that I could make an even better marriage. It’s pathetic really, but I think that’s why I was so determined to catch Arthur. What I did, what I tried to do to him, was horrible.’
‘He’s already forgiven you.’ Frances drew in a fortifying breath. ‘But I’m sorry, too. I never meant to ruin things for the two of you.’
‘You didn’t. How could you ruin something that didn’t exist? Arthur wasn’t mine. He didn’t even want to see me. I thought he might still care for me, but...’
‘No, Lydia, I think perhaps he didn’t realise how he—’
‘Ahem.’ Their mother’s face appeared around the doorway again, looking faintly anxious. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Everything’s fine, Mama.’ Lydia smiled and beckoned her in. ‘Except for a pounding headache.’
‘Then that’s enough talking, although I’m glad to see my girls getting along again.’
‘Our girls...’ Their father followed their mother into the room and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Frances, Arthur is downstairs. I’ve already told him the good news.’
‘Oh.’ She felt her heart leap and then plummet again almost instantly. It was a feeling that had become all too familiar over the past few days. Now that Lydia was awake, there was no avoiding the reason for it either. She had to confront him, had to call off their engagement so that he’d be free to reconcile with her sister instead. No doubt that was what Arthur wanted, too. She only hoped that she got to speak first so she might hold on to a few tattere
d shreds of her dignity.
As for Lydia... The plaintive way that she’d spoken, I thought he might still care for me, suggested that her feelings for Arthur ran deeper than she’d previously suspected. Was it possible that she might have underestimated her sister and that she truly did care for Arthur, after all? Because if that were the case, then she had no choice but to step aside.
She took a deep breath and stood up. Now that the time for confrontation had come, she wanted to put it off a while longer, to give herself a few minutes to gather her strength, but at least she knew she could do it. She’d survived her accident and Leo. She could survive this, too.
‘I just need to freshen up first. Papa, please could you tell him I’ll meet him on the beach in half an hour?’
* * *
Arthur stood on the shore, his black greatcoat billowing around his legs as he stared out to sea and waited for Frances. The weather had taken a distinct turn for the worse again. The towering waves were splashing spray all around him, white flecks that blew into his face like driving rain. The tide was coming in, too, a relentless force that surged back and forth, puddling around his boots. If he didn’t move soon, the salt would ruin the leather, but he found it hard to care. He only cared about what he had to do—and say.
He couldn’t marry her, couldn’t build the life of shared calm and contentment that he’d envisaged. It had all been a dream, one he’d let himself believe because he’d wanted it to be possible, but it wasn’t. Not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much, far too much to risk losing her the way Lance had almost lost Violet, the way she’d almost lost her own sister, too. He couldn’t bear to even contemplate the idea, which surely meant he wasn’t strong enough for marriage after all. Now that Lydia was out of danger, he had to tell Frances so and end their engagement. It would be painful, heartbreaking even, but it would save her from hurt in the long run. Hurting people—failing them—was what he did. First his mother, then Lance and his father... He’d failed each of them in turn. Frances would be better off without him. She might think him a villain after the intimacies they’d shared, but at least things hadn’t gone so far between them that they couldn’t turn back.
‘Arthur.’
He turned around slowly at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t heard footsteps, but she was standing right behind him, just out of arm’s reach.
‘Frances.’ He attempted a smile, but she didn’t respond. ‘Your father told me that Lydia’s awake again. I’m pleased.’ The words felt woefully inadequate.
‘Yes, Dr Muggridge is with her again now. He says it’s a good sign that there’s no confusion or memory loss.’
‘Good.’ He resisted the urge to take a step towards her. He was aware, painfully aware, of how cold his behaviour must seem, but what else could he do? He couldn’t take her in his arms and hold her one last time, no matter how much he wanted to.
‘You should go and speak to her.’
‘Me?’ He drew his brows together in surprise. ‘Why?’
‘She says she’s sorry for what she did.’
‘Tell her it’s forgotten. I don’t care about that any more.’