‘Edward. She loves you.’
‘No. She controls me,’ he growled.
Serena was startled by his vehemence and she opened and closed her mouth several times before finding the right words.
‘She won’t always make the right decisions, but she does love you. As does the rest of your family.’ Serena tried to add gravity to her words by reaching out to touch his hand. Big mistake. He responded by grasping her outstretched fingers and once again, those wild, intense eyes met hers.
‘But do you love me, Serena?’
She was powerless beneath such profound fixation. ‘Yes.’ The word escaped before wisdom held her back.
As much as her answer surprised her, it seemed to surprise Edward twice so. His deep brown eyes widened, his eyebrows went up and his voice caught. ‘You do?’
In the next moment, he knelt before her, his hand cupped around her jawline, fingers roaming into her hair. Oh, the warmth that spread through her, starting from where his hand rested on her cheek, right to her toes. Serena closed her eyes, unable and unwilling to resist this feeling. His lips caressed her hands and wrists, ever so gently at first, adding tingles to the heat that already consumed her. Until she realised that if she didn’t put a stop to this, she would end up compromising herself beyond remedy.
Sensibility surfaced and she tugged her hand back, even as her heart cried for more.
Edward was still close enough to catch the scent of lavender in his hair. He whispered as he stroked the hair at her temple. ‘Marry me.’
Reality crashed around her. What was she doing? She had led him to believe, what, that she loved him? Yes, it was true. But to him, that meant marriage. Of course it should. Of course it should. How dare she break his heart? Again.
‘I ... I cannot. Edward, please do not ask.’
He jerked backwards as though she had punched him in the face. ‘You cannot?’
How could she explain this? The uncertainty of marriage to a man who might be insane. She was a fool. This exchange would not end well. ‘You are unwell. Perhaps you should wait to ask when you are feeling better.’
His face became dark, insulted. ‘You think I don’t know my own mind? My own heart?’
When she didn’t answer, his scowl grew.
‘I thought you were better than that, Serena. I thought you knew me better. So, you are just like the rest of them? Ready to lock me up in the asylum where you can forget about me?’
‘No, Edward. Please—’
‘Get out!’
‘Edward. You don’t—’
‘Now! I said get out!’
The roar in his voice left her with no choice but to retreat. And retreat she did, all the way to her bed chamber, where she locked the door.
24
Monday, 6th June, 1842
She rejects me.
The curse turns her away despite her affection.
How can I convince her to stay? How can I assure her of my love? Can I even make her understand?
Serena.
I am repulsive to her. She sees only the curse in me, and not the truth of me. I shall never be enough.
If only she knew...
It is Judith’s doing. At the very least. She has turned her against me with her lies. How I hate her pretence of care. How I wish she would leave me alone. But I am held like a prisoner. She watches my every move, judges my every word and action. Judges me as unhinged. Judges me as a heathen sinner, deserving of this curse.
This is my judgment. The condemnation of their god. This curse.
I hate them. They can all burn in the hell they preach.
The darkness surrounds me, thicker than ever. Heavy. Weighing on me as though I am buried alive. And yet breath comes, even if I will it to cease. There are times I cannot lift my head, much less my limbs. And they want me to eat? To walk in the garden? Even the thought exhausts me.
But then there is the fig. Its strength draws me, calls me. It can carry me, hold me. I am sure. Confounded curse. Be gone! Leave me.
25
Serena paused by the table of miniature paintings—the one containing the infamous rose—her head heavy. She had slept little, and poorly at that. The clock showed it was well past the breakfast hour and she would likely receive rebuke for tardiness. At this present moment, however, she cared not. It would be easier to receive another dismissal.
And to think, that tiny painting had started it all. A beautiful, delicate depiction of a rose had set into motion a chain of events that had brought so much upheaval and pain, and even confusion. Serena picked up the miniature and ran her finger over the carved wooden frame. Part of her wanted to throw it hard on the tiled floor, and yet she wanted to hold the painting to her heart.
So much for her return bringing healing, or at least stability to Edward’s life. After her experience last night she could only believe things were much worse. The family was unaware of what had transpired. Serena carefully replaced the painting and pressed her hands over her face. She was despicable, and she deserved whatever they might say or do to her. Serena swallowed a groan as she turned toward the dining room. And they still didn’t know about her part in the newspaper article by Caleb Moncrief, or Julianne’s part anyway.
With a resigned sigh, she pushed open the door and trudged through to her trial. Yes, they were still there, probably waiting for her. Four faces turned to her in expectation, some wearing frowns, others expressions of hope or question. Serena drew in a deep breath and took the seat withdrawn for her by Mr Xavier.
‘Thank you and good morning,’ she nodded to him.
‘I assume things did not go so well last night.’ Mr Jones watched her face.
