Faces of the Wind

Chapter 43

A grim cloud of silence befell the room. Adrian looked up from his cuff and met his aunt's icy gaze. His insides churned. Her verdict was supposed to bring him relief but, instead, it tore something from his chest. His hands turned cold. He wished to vanish and be out of her sight... and yet he hoped she would take back what she has just said.

Arthur noticed that his nephew's lips have turned white. "Why don't we all go to bed now and discuss this in the morning?" He suggested in a voice that was a tad hollow, breaking the silence.

"Ma," Phillip cleared his throat and turned to his mother, but the look on her face made him reconsider his next statement. He had his soon-to-be-in-laws to consider and didn't want any trouble with his mother now that they were visiting. The scandal his cousin has stirred—though amusing—was more than enough to make them have second thoughts. Her family was among the poor gentry, but they had high values and standards and were far from ready to compromise for the sake of wealth.

Everyone who has not left the house retired to their rooms except for Lydia, Elizabeth and Eleanor, Oscar's wife. The three women decided to stay and chat a little downstairs in the small parlour, perhaps curious to receive news of the night's aftermath.

Catherine stood up and said, "Philly."

Her son almost jumped. "Yes, ma?"

"Ask Mr. Baker to have a maid pack his belongings at once." She made her way to the door after giving out the order. Her brother's jaw dropped.

"Mr. Baker's belongings? Why, ma?"

His mother turned and shot him a splitting glare.

"Sure, ma... sure."

Once Catherine was gone, Natalie patted Adrian's back and said, "You're not going anywhere at this late hour." She turned to Arthur with apparent concern in her eyes and said, "Will you speak to her, Arthur?"

Arthur nodded and left the room.

Adrian wasn't listening and began to pack his few things himself to avoid getting humiliated in front of the servants, too. The stares of the two people remaining in the room pried on him and weighed him down. It crossed his mind that had his father been here, he would have stood up for him and turned this whole thing into a joke. The thought left him with a metallic taste in his throat. It broke his heart that no one was on his side—even he has failed himself. His aunt has just cast him out and pronounced him a pariah, and part of him believed he deserved it.

***

The journey from Bath to London was trying though not a very long one. Adrian had to first wait on the road near his aunt's house until morning to catch the earliest coach. He was unable to process his feelings nor think of anything, and he did not have the stomach for more than a few bites of bread whenever they stopped to rest.

Thanks to the Laudanum he sipped every now and then, he managed to stay in one piece until he reached his lodgings in London, unaware of all the people who greeted him on the way. It was either morning or midday; he didn't know, and it didn't matter. He did not mind stepping into several ponds, one of which was a bit deep he nearly tripped and fell. However, little Oliver could not bear to be invisible to the young gentleman he considered a friend, so he clung to his arm as he inserted the key to open the door. He slowly and absent-mindedly looked down at the little ape half-dangling from his arm.

"Mama says you aught'a come 'ave sumthin' t'eat afore ye go in there," Oliver said, helping himself back to his crutches, which he placed against the door.

The kid's words failed to register in Adrian's mind. He was faint and all he needed was a drink and long hours of deep slumber. He opened the door, gently pushed Oliver out of his way and walked inside, but the energetic kid would not give up and followed him inside. Adrian lay in bed without taking off any of his clothes—not even his boots. The smell of damp wood sobered him up. He stared at the ceiling but could not see it. Images form the week before passed in front of his eyes and sounds banged inside his head. Kathleen's naked figure in his bed and her fake screams afterwards. The noise of the stampede searching for the scoundrel they wished to crucify while he hid like a rat inside the old chest. It smelt of damp wood. Was his brother among the stampede? He would not miss it for the world! He cupped his face in his two hands.