Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Fifty-Two

They were in Hannah's rooms at Carnsley. Hannah was threading a ribbon through Constance's hair when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

"May I come in?" Beatrice asked, looking uncomfortable.

Constance glanced at Hannah nervously. She'd thought mother had accepted Hugh, because of Simon, had hoped she would give them her blessing, but Constance was never sure what Beatrice was thinking. Constance smoothed her dress nervously.

"I'll go find Owen and take my place outside," Hannah said, kissing Constance on the cheek. She smiled at Beatrice as she left.

Beatrice shifted her weight from side to side. Constance turned and leaned her arms over the back of her chair, trying to look casual. "What is it, Mother?"

Beatrice came into the room, her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I wanted to—" she clasped her hands in front of her. "Hugh and I have been sparring every couple of days, and it—using my powers—has given me more control of my mind."

Constance swallowed hard. Mother had seemed more lucid these past weeks, but Constance was too scared to hope. Still, what did all of this mean for how Beatrice viewed Hugh? Was it safe for them to fight each other?

"Now that I can think more clearly, I see how many things I did wrong."

"Wrong?" Constance was prepared to tell her Mother that she was marrying Hugh no matter what and had a wonderful argument all practiced and ready. She hadn't imagined her mother confessing she had been wrong about anything.

Beatrice sat down on the edge of the bed. "When you were a little girl, I—I suspected you had the gift. I think I knew it from the first time you kicked in my womb. I could almost feel it? But that shouldn't have been possible. As far as I know, no one has ever inherited the gift from the mother, never. So, I kept telling myself I had to be wrong. One of my great aunts was an empath. I had heard stories about that power and I saw it in you. When you got a little older and could calm Simon down when no one else could, I knew it had to be true—I was so scared, Constance."

"So, I told you that your emotions were unseemly. I told you to tramp them down and control them. I made you think that somehow what you were feeling was bad. And I prayed you would never, ever run into a supernatural." Her face twisted up in pain.

"Why?" Constance asked, her heart beating hard. "Why would you do that? Instead of helping me understand what I was?"

"Because I didn't want that life for you. I wanted you to be free, to laugh and grow old. I didn't want you to grow up with blood on your hands and fear in your heart."

"But you hate the supernaturals. You were always telling us to be careful and—"

"I did hate them. I thought they were something to fear, and I wanted to protect you and your brother, but I also hated hurting them, hated hurting anyone. And when my father promised me to Baines, all I saw was a life filled with bloodshed and heartache and family duty. Then I met your father, and I loved him so much. I loved him and he offered me a normal life, freedom."

"Did he know?"

Beatrice looked at her hands. "I never told him. He hated how bigoted my family was, and I could never bring myself to tell him the things they'd made me do before I met him."

"Even though you believed the supernaturals were evil?"

Beatrice shrugged. "I believed that Constance. I did with all my heart. But I also felt such shame, and I was afraid that he would stop loving me if he knew. And if he didn't know what I was, how could I tell you?"

Constance moved to sit beside her mother, wrapping her arms around her. "He wouldn't have stopped loving you. He loved—loves you." She squeezed tightly.

Beatrice stroked Constance's back. "I'm so sorry Constance. I should have told you, but then my mind fell apart and it was so hard to think straight, and then it was too late."

Constance pulled back. There were tears in Beatrice's eyes.

"Mother, I want you to be happy for Hugh and I. He accepts me as I am. He's not afraid of me and he's helped me hone this strange power. It's not his fault he's a werewolf, and he's such a good man."

Beatrice smiled sadly. "He is a good man. Hugh saved you and Simon when I couldn't. He gave your brother back to us, and I will always love him for that. Baines showed us that anyone can be a monster, and I'm so sorry I let him get so close to us."

"You couldn't know what Baines was planning."

"But I could have prepared you. I'm sorry."

Constance wrapped her in a hug again.

"I love you, daughter."

Constance pulled back, wiped her cheeks, and then squared her shoulders. "Father isn't here to walk me down the aisle. Will you?"

Beatrice's face lit up and Constance's heart felt like it might crack open with joy. It was a smile she hadn't seen since Father had left.