Faces of the Wind

Chapter 20

In her endeavor to seek atonement by clearing Irene's name and finding out the truth about her tragic, scandalous death, Arden decided to see what has been transpiring behind the stone walls of the small chapel in Deane, but first, she had to visit the Longfeathers and offer her condolences. Her aunt Ursula would make the worst companion, and since her father has already fulfilled his moral duty, she thought it would only be right to have her little sister, Dorothy, accompany her.

The truth of Irene's death struck her when she walked into the Longfeathers' parlour knowing that there was no way Irene would step through the door. Sensing the void that the young beauty has left in the grand house, her chest tightened and tears welled up in her eyes. Maybe if she weren't so consumed by her petty problems, she would have given her friend the attention she so needed and deserved.

"I wish I never agreed to come here with you," Dorothy muttered to her sister as they waited in the small parlour, "this is so depressing."

"I wish we didn't have to come," Arden rejoined, her voice a brittle whisper.

Edith Longfeather gracefully entered the parlour, accompanied by a cloud of gloominess, and welcomed the two young ladies. She was clad in black, her face pale and dark shadows dimmed her eyes. She spoke very weakly one would think she has just risen from the grave.

It was far from easy for the conversation to flow and the air in the room was stifling for both Arden and Dorothy. They could not wait to leave but were tempted to stay when Edith stated how very sorry she was for what her husband had done to Adrian on impulse. It was as if she were speaking to herself. She seemed brooding and did not wish her bereavement upon anyone else... especially not on the parent of an innocent young man. She blamed herself repeatedly and believed could have prevented her daughter's death.

***

Adrian emerged slowly into the study, where his father sat behind his desk, writing. He was deeply remorseful of his demeanor earlier in the day and wished to take it back, and curiosity to learn more of his father's affair with Lady Longfeather was killing him.

"Father," he said in a soft voice.

Jeffrey stopped writing but did not turn. Adrian drew closer from behind his father and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so very sorry, father," he said, "I did not mean a word I said."

Jeffrey patted his son's hand. "I know," he replied, "I know."

Adrian moved to his father's side and kneeled on the wooden floor. He looked up at his father's and longed to hug him, but something held him back. He felt alone, neglected, unimportant and unable to get the attention he needed.

"I hope you've enjoyed your ride," Jeffrey said then turned to look at his son and instantly felt a stab in his heart. "My dear boy," a concerned frown knit his brows, "you look distressed."

"I am," Adrian mouthed the words and swallowed a knot that has grown in his throat.

Jeffrey got up from behind his desk, took his son's left arm and helped him to his feet then escorted him to an armchair. "I hope your arm is not paining you. Should I call for a doctor?"

Adrian shook his head. "I'll feel better in the morning." He knew he always felt better in the morning.

Though he was not a heavy drinker, Jeffrey believed liquor was the cure for most ailments. He poured his son a glass of brandy and added a few drops of Laudanum to it. "Drink it in one," he instructed and Adrian absent-mindedly did as he has been told.

"Father," Adrian said, his voice a tad stronger.

"Yes, dear?"

He mustered all the courage left in his weary mind and asked, "Why were you against my romantic entanglement with Charles's daughter?"