XXVI

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"Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?" Abraham Lincoln

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XXVI.

Cecily had never made a habit of travelling into the Ashwood village. When she had been a young bride, the experience had simply been too painful. She often blamed her disinterest in the village on it being too simple, the society being too demeaning ... anything to avoid seeing Edward and his growing brood.

The ball some weeks back had been her first foray into the local society with the exception of church in over a decade.

Cecily had never visited the Denham home before. It was a tired looking building, with missing shingles, faded shutters, and in desperate need of repair. She had never known anything less than a fine home from the time that her grandmother had stepped in to ensure her future.

There was a fluttering in her stomach as she looked out of the carriage window. What would Edward have said could he have known she was about to call upon his widow. Cecily had never spoken a word to Mrs Ellen Denham. Not one word. Adam had spent much of his childhood visiting in this house and she, herself, had never stepped foot on this street.

Cecily's way of life, way of thinking, had been ingrained into her. She had been brought up to believe that someone of her status ought to live a certain way, ought to marry a certain man, ought to socialise with certain people. And when her heart had been so broken for daring to step out of such a life, she had retreated back, and immersed herself back into what she thought was the right way of being.

Cecily had brought up her children to expect the same, to live the same way. Though how she had monumentally failed.

Adam was always going to return to Ashwood. He loved it here, and he would always love Grace. As Cecily had now allowed herself to feel what she had felt in her youth, she knew it wasn't falling in love, choosing who to love, that was the enemy. It was the expectations of society, and the limits it placed on people who possessed a certain rank. She could not do to Adam what her own mother had done to her.

Cecily could not allow Adam to become like her.

It was her job, her responsibility, as Adam's mother to help him. Cecily knew that she hadn't been an exemplary mother for much of her children's lives. But she would be better.

Grace worked hard. Cecily knew this. Cecily's maid watched Grace constantly and had reported every little titbit of news back. But all Cecily learned was that Grace was a diligent worker. Whatever Cecily had done to dampen her, to push her, to get rid of her regrettably, Grace had risen to the occasion. And it was for this very reason. For the very people who lived inside this house.

When Edward had died, his eldest son, Peter, had been only ten years old. He wasn't old enough to have learned his father's trade, to take over his business and to support the family. No, Grace was left to support her family. A young girl of eighteen, forced to abandon any ambitions for herself.

Grace's actions had allowed her next sister in age, Catherine, to marry. Cecily had seen her with her husband in church. The younger girl, Claire, was a very pretty prospect for some village boy as well. She would be able to marry as her elder sister provided for the home.

Selflessness was not a quality one often found in debutantes. But it was a character virtue that Cecily had grown to admire, even if she was at first reluctant. Grace would need Cecily, and perhaps she did not realise it yet, but in accepting Adam today, she was effectively feeding herself to the wolves. Cecily would help her in a way that her own mother should have helped her as a young girl.

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