The funeral was a miserable affair, and Richard was nowhere to be seen.
Allie's heart throbbed with worry as she wondered where he could have hidden himself away, and why he had not seen fit to attend his own father's funeral.
Fortunately, most of those in attendance were kind people, close to the family, and did not mistake Richard's absence for something that it was not. In fact, more whispers of sympathy were heard in comparison to mean ones.
Cassie, morbid though it was, had had the foresight to pack mourning clothes for all three of them, and so Alexandra found herself dressed in a heavy gown of black silk, with a black half-veil. Cassie was dressed similarly, as were the rest of the ladies.
George Kensington had been buried in the family crypt, along with his parents, siblings and his late wife. It was a sad moment for, although Allie did not truly know him very well, he'd been so kind to her in the time she had spent with him and his family.
As the crowd began to disperse, Allie searched the area in vain, hoping that perhaps Richard had hidden himself out of sight but had still attended. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.
When they returned to Kensington Place, Allie found that she was quite exhausted from having to greet the mourners and accept their condolences as the family's unofficial representative. However, she was determined not to rest until she located Richard and ascertained his well-being.
They had not caught sight of him in the week since his father's death. He had burrowed himself into some corner of the house and only the butler, Worth, knew his whereabouts. He took no meals with the rest of them nor did he sleep in his own bedchamber. Allie was fraught with worry, and hoped that Richard hadn't done anything idiotic.
Her realisation that she loved him did not embarrass her any longer and, now, it only fuelled her determination to find him and help him in any way that she could. That was the least she could do.
She unbuttoned her gloves and removed her veil, handing both off to Cassandra as she asked her to leave them in her chamber. The servants had all attended the funeral, as all of them had worked for the Duke for years and were well aware of his kindness. So, Mr. Worth was not difficult to locate and she steeled her nerves in preparation to demand to know her fiance's whereabouts.
"Mr. Worth." She called, and the middle-aged butler bowed briefly before asking what milady required. "I must know where Richard is. This has gone on for far too long and I need to know where he has squirrelled himself so that I might drag him out of there."
"Milady, I do not think Master Richard would appreciate my obliging you." Worth's tone was regretful and reluctant, and Allie knew that he could easily be persuaded with a little more pressing.
"Mr. Worth, I am sure he is in no fit condition to know what is good for him. He might wish to be alone, but he shouldn't be alone, not now. I am sure you, having seen him, know this to be true. I wish to help him and, to do that, I must know where he is." Allie pleaded, her voice firm. By the end of it, however, she had let slip an overwrought yet genuine quiver into her voice and this was exactly what softened the butler's resolve as he swallowed, his eyes displaying sadness.
"He is in the abandoned study in the left wing, milady. It has been unused for years and is in no fit condition to even be entered. He has been drinking all week and, I must confess, I do not think he is in any state to be coherent or even to understand his own self." Judging by the reproach that had entered Mr. Worth's tone, he had let slip more than he had intended to.
Allie nodded, heart clenching as she replied, "I know where the left wing is. Thank you for telling me, Mr. Worth. I will do my best to help him."
"Milady, if I may speak freely..." Worth said, before continuing upon Allie's nod, "Please be gentle with him. The bond between them was not an ordinary one. He loved his father more than he loved anything in the world, including himself."
Allie nodded determinedly, before hiking up her skirts and setting off towards the left wing. It was an entirely abandoned section of the great house, that the late Duke had closed off some thirty years before, as he had then been its only resident. Even after adopting Richard, there hadn't been any cause for an entire wing of the great home to be opened up for merely one more person. Richard had shown it to her one day, and it had been coated in at least three layers of dust. She could not imagine him staying there a week. It was a miserable place, and she didn't want him remaining there a moment longer.
When she arrived at the study, handkerchief covering her nose to protect from the dust, she did not bother knocking. She simply opened the door and entered, but soon halted in her steps at the sight before her.
Richard, dressed simply in his shirt and breeches, was reclined in a ratty armchair, staring listlessly into a fire that was smoking more than it ought, a full glass of whiskey grasped in his hand and a bottle on the table beside him. When he turned to see who had disturbed him, she saw that his eyes were red and bloodshot, and filled with a profound sadness.
"Oh, Richard." She breathed emphatically, stepping towards him a little cautiously. Apart from a little surprise at seeing her, he did not react any further, and simply took another sip of his whiskey. She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and he first flinched, causing some of the whiskey to spill from his overfilled glass, before relaxing and neither of them could find the words to speak.
Finally, he asked, "What are you doing here, Alexandra? I didn't think anyone would find me here." His voice was hoarse, as if he had not used it in a while, and his breath smelled of alcohol, but he did not seem intoxicated.
"I had to make sure you were alright." She lied, for it had been obvious from the start that he was nowhere near alright.
"Well, I am clearly perfectly fine." He said with false brightness, gesturing to himself in a way that was meant to inspire confidence in his condition, but did nothing more than alert her to the fact that he was much worse than she had thought. "So, you can go now. I am sure you want to."
"Whatever would I want that for?" She demanded, but he averted his gaze and looked into the fire again. She sighed sadly, and stepped in front of him, dropping to her knees before his chair so that she might meet him at eye level. She placed a hand on his knee and another on his cheek, cupping it as she blocked his view of the fire, forcing him to look only at her. He shut his eyes, seeming exhausted.
"Richard," she whispered softly, voice barely audible over the fire's crackling. "Look at me."
He obeyed, almost like a reluctant child. In response to her questioning gaze, his resolve crumbled and he said, "Everyone always leaves, don't they? You can leave too. I'll be alright."
"You're not alright." She said, "And you won't be alright for a long time. But I won't leave you, I never will. You need someone and I care for you far too much to abandon you at a time like this."
"Do you promise?" He asked, his inebriation having affected his sensibilities a little. Upon seeing her determined nod, his lips quivered as he continued, "It's just that I can't believe he's really gone. I've had so long to say goodbye, but it never sunk in that he would actually go one day."
"No time is ever enough to say goodbye to a loved one." Allie said, taking his hand and squeezing it. The human contact which had been absent for the past week seemed to make a difference for he shivered before placing his glass on the table beside him and clasping her hand in both of his, gazing down into his lap. She traced the knuckles of the hand on his cheek across his cheekbone, down to his jaw, where she allowed them to remain. "He was your father, and you loved him so very much. Of course there is a place in your heart that feels empty and that is only natural."
There was a faraway look in his eyes, as if recalling some distant memory. Finally, he looked at her again, and his gaze was glassy. "He chose me, you know. No one had ever chosen me ever before in my entire life. He continued to choose me after too. He always put me first whenever it came to anything. He forgave me for every last stupid mistake I made and I love him for it."
His use of the present tense, although not odd, made her feel incredibly sad. Perhaps it was because she knew he'd never be able to say it to him again.
"And he loved you more than anything in the world." Allie promised, but she knew Richard already knew that.
"He told me I wasn't, but do you think I was a disappointment to him?" The candid, open nature of the question rendered her unsteady for a moment, but she knew what the answer was, for there was nothing else it could be.
"Of course not." She assured him, allowing some of her own passion to slip into her voice. "His son grew into an intelligent, strong, kind, charming, good man. What else could he have asked for? You possess so many of his own good qualities. There was no way in the world that you ever could have been a disappointment to him."
Richard nodded, as if this was a fact he was aware of but simply needed to be reassured of. With a deprecating look in his eyes he said, "He loved me, and I didn't even go to his funeral."
"Oh, Richard, don't blame yourself for that. You simply could not face it and it was no fault of your own. He knew you loved him very much, and not attending his funeral is hardly proof against that."
"I just couldn't go." He explained, and a tear trailed down his cheek, "I couldn't face the thought that he's gone, that he's truly gone."
By now, his single tear had given into more, and he was weeping freely and unabashedly. She reached up, letting go of his hands and throwing her arms around his neck, gathering him into her embrace as he cried into her shoulder, his body shaking. She ran her fingers soothingly through his hair, feeling him relax under her touch. He did not return her embrace, but she did not mind, for he simply did not have the strength in him now.
Finally, what felt like ages later, his tears ceased and he pulled away, their faces inches apart. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were red, with tear tracks leading from his eyes down his cheek. "Thank you." He said hoarsely, but there was nothing for him to thank her for.
She ran her thumb across his cheekbone affectionately before fully pulling back and rising to her feet, with him following not long after.
"I think I shall go to his grave now." Richard said, and she nodded, because this was something he needed to do alone.
"Go." She told him, "I'll be here afterwards if you need me."
That night, he supped with them and slept in his own bedchamber. He did not drink even a sip of alcohol. Although he was significantly subdued, she had a feeling he would be alright eventually. Until then, she would be exactly where he needed her to be.