Chapter Eighteen

15 4 20
                                    


If insanity had a face, Jane mused, it would surely belong to the duke and her father. The abrupt shift in the duke’s stance was confounding; he had been adamant in his opposition to the marriage, only to agree at the last moment. Jane found herself grappling with a whirlpool of emotions.

The realisation that her fate was sealed—that she would be married off to a duke despite her personal reservations—felt like a cruel twist of fate. She had only recently discovered her true parentage, only to be tossed into this new role with little regard for her own desires.

Overwhelmed by a surge of anger and despair, Jane made her way to her father’s study. The corridors of the manor seemed to stretch endlessly, their walls lined with portraits of past generations, each gaze seemingly disapproving. The grandeur of the estate felt suffocating now, a stark reminder of her confinement.

Without bothering to knock, she flung open the door to her father’s study. The room was a blend of dark mahogany and rich leather, the scent of old books and ink permeating the air. Her father looked up from behind his cluttered desk, a frown etched deeply into his features. Papers, ledgers, and quills were scattered across the desk, reflecting the disarray of his thoughts.

“Where are your manners, Jane?” Lord Hadley bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls. He rose from his seat, his irritation visible. “You seem to be lacking them these days and you’re interrupting my work.”

“I lost them the second you so carelessly tossed me into marriage,” Jane retorted, her voice trembling with frustration. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of indignation and hurt. “You have no right to treat me this way.”

“You should be ashamed!” Her father thundered, his voice rising in anger. “It’s been a year since you arrived, and you’re twenty—TWENTY! Approaching spinsterhood.”

“I understand that I am of a marriageable age,” Jane said through gritted teeth, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “But I ought to have the right to choose a suitor who is suitable, in my own opinion.”

“Are you saying the duke is not an appropriate suitor?” Her father’s voice carried a note of incredulity. “Any eligible lady would be honoured to have him as a husband.”

“Certainly not I!” Jane exclaimed, her voice edged with defiance. The injustice of the situation was too much to bear.

“You are marrying the duke, and you will,” Lord Hadley declared with an air of finality, his voice offering no argument.

“Why?” Jane’s voice wavered, her anger giving way to a raw vulnerability. “Do you hate me, father? Was your marriage to my mother not based on love?”

“I do not hate you, Jane,” Lord Hadley said, his tone softening, “and I loved your mother from the moment I met her.”

“Then make me understand!” Jane roared, the words escaping her with a fierce intensity. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Why must I be sacrificed for your convenience?”

“Because I am in debt!” He shot back, his frustration evident. His voice softened as he continued, “I cannot provide for you as a proper lady should be provided for.”

“And that is my fault?!” Jane yelled, her voice echoing off the walls. Her heart ached with betrayal. “I am not asking for anything more than to be treated with respect. I can take care of myself.”

Lord Hadley sank into his chair, the weight of his own failure settling heavily upon him. He looked older, wearier than Jane had ever seen him. His shoulders sagged with the burden of regret. The once-commanding presence of her father was now replaced by a figure consumed by guilt and sorrow.

“Beatrice never wanted this life for you,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “She loved you, until her last breath.”

Jane blinked, the name ‘Beatrice’ resonating deeply within her. It was her mother’s name, the woman she had never known. Seeing her father speak of her with such reverence touched a chord within Jane. She found a chair and sat down, allowing the tumultuous storm of her emotions to settle.

“I have failed her, you, and myself,” Lord Hadley continued, his voice laden with remorse. “The feud that shattered our family’s finances left me with little choice. I realised too late the extent of the damage. My brother was in charge of the household funds before I inherited the title, and the money was squandered.”

“When the will was read, I was declared the rightful heir,” he said, his eyes clouded with the pain of memory. “My brother, fleeing the scandal, left for Italy, and by then, the damage was done.”

“I’m so sorry, Jane,” he said solemnly, his eyes filling with tears. “I failed you as a father, and I failed to protect you from this fate.”

Jane absorbed his words, her heart aching with a mixture of sympathy and anger. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place: marrying the duke would indeed clear her father’s debts and secure the family’s future. Though she resented the circumstances, she could understand the desperation driving her father’s actions.

Lord Hadley reached under his desk and retrieved a portrait. The image was delicate and framed with care. He held it out to Jane with a trembling hand. 

“You look just like your mother,” he said, his voice filled with a bittersweet pride. Jane took the portrait, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at the likeness of a woman who was her mirror image. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at the face of the mother she had never known. The portrait was a tangible connection to the past, a piece of her heritage that had been hidden from her.

“I forgive you, father,” she said softly, her voice quivering. She was surprised to find the words sincere. “I forgive you for my mother’s sake. And her portraits shall be reinstated in our home.”

Her father’s face softened with relief and gratitude. 

“Thank you, Jane,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I agree.”

With that, Lord Hadley embraced his daughter. The father and daughter held each other tightly, the years of conflict and pain dissolving in their shared sorrow and understanding. In that moment, the bonds of family were reaffirmed, and the future, though uncertain, seemed a little less daunting. 


Leave a ⭐ lovelies

Of love and deceit Where stories live. Discover now