Leonora stepped across the threshold and found her mother hastening toward her, a concerned look in her eyes as they swept over her daughter. “You look pale, dear. What happened?”
Leonora heaved a deep sigh, her hands tensing against the shivers that still snaked their way up and down her back. “I need to tell you something,” she began, and a deep cold swept through her, raising goosebumps on her skin and making her teeth chatter. This was it!
Oddly enough, telling her parents made it all the more real!
Her parents exchanged a worried look. Then her mother’s arms drew Leonora forward and to the settee in the corner. A warm fire burned in the grate; only it could not warm the lingering cold in her bones. Her father moved closer and came to stand behind his wife’s shoulder, his kind eyes looking down upon her, anxiety etched into the contours of his face.
Again, Leonora inhaled a deep breath, feeling her chest rise and then fall as she exhaled. There was no turning back. “Almost a year ago,” she began, her hands clinging almost painfully to her mother’s, “Louisa and I sneaked out of the house to attend the Hamilton’s masquerade.” Leonora had asked, and Louisa had given her permission for her sister to share the exact details of that night, including Louisa’s involvement.
Her parents’ eyes widened before they looked at one another, a sense of foreboding upon their faces as they turned back to her. Yet, they did not say anything. They did not ask any questions. They simply looked at her and allowed her to speak.
And so, Leonora did. She spoke of everything that had happened that night. She told them of how she and Louisa had arrived at the masquerade, of how Louisa had danced while she, Leonora, had followed her feet here and there, her eyes curious, observing those around her. She told them of the darkened corridor and the hands that had suddenly seized her.
Tears stood in her mother’s eyes, and she could see that her father’s hand upon her mother’s shoulder had tightened, his jaw set. “Why did you not tell us?” her mother asked as tears continued to stream down her face, her hands holding on tightly to Leonora’s.
Bowing her head, Leonora shrugged. “There were many reasons,” she finally admitted, feeling a deep sense of relief to have told her tale. “At first, I simply did not wish to remember it. I thought if I pretended it had never happened, then I could simply go on as before.” She shook her head at that foolish notion. “Of course, it didn’t work. I kept reliving it whether I spoke of it or not. I did not know what to do, and so I retreated, still trying to ignore it. I felt so helpless and weak and…ashamed.”
“Why would you—?” Her father’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat before he tried again. “Why would you feel ashamed?” He stepped around her mother and came to sit on Leonora’s other side. “Yes, you should not have gone to the masquerade. Still, that does not give anyone the right to lay his hands on you.”
Leonora felt tears prick her eyes. “Are you not angry with me? Or disappointed? What I did put us all in danger. If anyone had found out, we would’ve been ruined. Not only me. But my sisters as well.”
Her father nodded. “You’re right,” he said, a deep sadness in his eyes. “The world is not a perfect place. Far from it. Yet, we should never make decisions out of fear. We should make decisions because we believe in them.” He looked up and met her mother’s eyes, something silent and unspoken passing between them.
Her mother’s hands squeezed hers. “Why are you telling us now? It has been a year, why now?”
“Even though I do not know who he is, it now seems as though he knows who I am.” Her mother’s hands tensed painfully upon hers, and she sensed her father draw himself up beside her. “I had my notebook with me that night, and when he…I dropped it.” She looked from her mother to her father, noting the anger that now lingered in their eyes, replacing the deep empathy she had seen there before. “A few days ago, my notebook was delivered back to me. I don’t know by whom, but…I think it is a message. We think it is a message. Only I don’t know what to do about it.”
A deep frown came to her father’s face, his jaw still tight. “We?”
Leonora nodded, explaining how others in her family had found out. The only one she did not mention was Drake.
“My mother knew?” her father exclaimed, eyes wide. “All this time? And she didn’t say anything?” He rose to his feet and began to pace the length of the room. All the tension he had held in check before seemed to pour out of him.
“You know how she is,” her mother counseled, her hands still reassuringly wrapped around Leonora’s. “She has her own way of…handling things. She always did.” The ghost of a smile passed over her face as she looked at her husband. “There was a time when you appreciated her support.”
Her father’s head bobbed up and down in an acknowledging gesture, and Leonora found herself wondering if she knew all the details of her parents’ story. “Still, this is different.”
“This is different because Leo is your daughter,” her mother reasoned, her voice now strong, a perfect balance to her husband’s trembling hands. “But you’re forgetting that she is a grown woman now, and she has a right to make her own decisions. Is that not what we agreed on? To give our children what we wanted for ourselves? What we demanded no matter the cost?”
Leonora watched her father sigh, a relenting look coming to his eyes. “Yes, my love, you’re right. But this…” He broke off, his gaze coming to rest upon Leonora, such tenderness in his eyes that Leonora felt tears snaking down her cheeks.
For a moment, her father simply looked at her before he was once more at her side, his hands wrapping around hers alongside her mother’s. “You are safe, do you hear me? We will deal with this. Whoever he is, he will not lay a hand on you again. You have my word.”
Leonora felt her insides tense. “What are you saying, Father?” Her gaze searched his. “Please, you need to promise me not to do anything foolish.”
“Foolish?” he asked, a frown drawing down his brows as he glanced past her at her mother. “What do you mean?”
Leonora drew in a shuddering breath. “There is someone else who knows.” She swallowed. “Someone who has been at my side ever since he found out.”
“Lord Pemberton?” her mother asked, nearly shocking Leonora witless.
Whirling around to stare at her mother, Leonora stammered, “H-how do you know?”
A gentle smile came to her mother’s face, but it was her father who answered. “We’ve seen the way he looks at you. He tries to hide it, but it’s there.” He chuckled. “I admit, when I first noticed, I was mightily tempted to put him in his place. However, then—”
“I reminded him of the way he used to look at me when we first met,” her mother finished, a teasing note in her voice.
Leonora’s father laughed, his gaze straying to his wife. “I still look at you that way.”
Leonora loved the way her parents spoke to one another, the way they looked at one another, the way they always seemed drawn to one another, the way they always seemed to know what the other was thinking. It was what Leonora had always wanted, dreamed of without being aware of it.