“I only wish you happy, Isobel.” The lines on his face softened into affection. “In many ways, I think of you as the strongest of us all; you deserve to find a place in life that makes your soul feel at home.”
I don’t feel very strong at the moment.If a gentle breeze blew into her on the street, she would shatter into a million pieces. “William, please…”
“But you can’t continue to run from what is uncomfortable or frightening.” Again, he took her hand. “Facing the problems is the only way you’ll find peace, and I hope you do that long before you end up like Mother.”
When had he become so wise? Their mother had agonized for many years over the mistakes and foibles her life had included, and she’d only found a surcease in death. For a fraction of a second, Isobel considered diving into her brother’s arms and letting him counsel her, but how could she explain to him what was happening in her life since she didn’t fully understand it herself?
“Oh, Wills, somehow I don’t think even you would understand,” she said in a choked voice as her heart continued to ache. Slipping from his hold, she turned tail and ran down the corridor until she locked herself in her room. “I have to remove myself from this house of death and dying dreams.” With every rush of her pulse, sorrow and uncertainty whispered to her, reminded her that she’d not achieved anything worthwhile in her life and now she was left with nothing except shifting sand.
*
Just after noon,Isobel alighted from William’s carriage in front of the Marsden Clinic in Marylebone. It was the logical place to find Royce at this time of the day, and deep down in her soul she felt he’d be the only one to bring order to her jumbled thoughts.
Yet as soon as she stepped into the familiar room that contained cots and now a few patients, emptiness and hopelessness once more took control. She must have looked a fright, for Royce’s brother Trey glanced up from talking with a man on one of the cots and immediately rushed to her side.
“Miss Storme. What brings you here?”
What indeed? “I… I’d like to speak with Doctor Marsden.”
“Royce is out making calls on some of his patients that are unable to come to the clinic. He left no word on a possible return.” He peered at her with speculation. Concern wrinkled his brow. “Uh, but Lady Jane is scheduled to be in around three, if you’d rather come back then?”
“I… I don’t…” The emotional storm brewing inside her chest wouldn’t wait that long. She pressed a hand to her heart and then laid it against her cheek. Heat seeped through the thin kid of her glove. Everything felt magnified, somehow, as if the feelings she’d always held back were now giant caricatures of themselves. Tears sprang to her eyes. Merciful heavens, I’m going to break in front of strangers! Her breath came in quick pants. She clutched at the strings of her reticule as if it alone would keep her grounded into the present. “I think I’m going to faint,” she finished in a choppy whisper. Never in her life had she experienced such lightheadedness as she did now. How could she be the strongest member of the Storme family as William had said if a tiny thing as Royce being gone from the clinic would send her into unconsciousness?
Perhaps I’ve failed in that too.
“Come with me.” Trey wrapped his hand around her upper arm and quickly led her from the large room, with a few words of instruction to one of the nurses as he went. All too soon he guided her into the room that served as Royce’s office where she’d spent that lovely night with him. Gently but firmly, he encouraged her to sit upon the bed. “You look at sixes and sevens. What has occurred?”
“My mother died this morning.” When the admission did nothing to alleviate the tightness and horrible morass of emotions churning within her, Isobel stared at him. She surprised both herself and him when she uttered a heart-wrenching scream and then burst into tears. “My mother is dead, and my life is a tragic mess.”
The sound of running footsteps in the corridor outside betrayed the arrival of a nurse, who stood in the frame. “Do you require assistance, Mr. Marsden?”
“No, no. Miss Storme is quite upset after a death in her family. I think it’s best she lets the emotional torrent have at her.”
“Please call for me if you should want assistance.” Then the nurse left, and once more Isobel was alone with the former solider.
“As much as I’m a proponent of releasing tension, your reaction is rather a shocking manifestation, but I understand.” Trey pushed a handkerchief into her hand. When she tried to stem the tide of her tears, the scent on the fabric square wasn’t as comforting as Royce’s clean, crisp smell, and that made her tears fall all the harder. “I’ve worked with many patients over the years to help sort the issues in their minds. This isn’t about your mother’s death.” It wasn’t a question. “However, I’m heartily sorry just the same. It’s never easy to lose a parent.”
The fact he offered her words of comfort so close after he’d lost his father intensified the onslaught of her upset. For long moments she sobbed into the borrowed handkerchief. “No, losing Mother wasn’t what has caused me to break.” In many ways, she was grieving the loss of many things, least of all hopes and silly dreams she’d had no idea she even wanted. “I don’t feel myself just now.”
Had she ever? Who exactly was she, both within the Storme family and outside of it?
“That’s understandable.” Instead of being the typical male who’d pat her shoulder and utter empty, useless words, the younger Mr. Marsden pulled over the only chair in the room and sat upon it, his knees nearly touching hers. “If you’d like to unburden your soul, you have my complete discretion.”
He was so much like his brother that she cried all the harder. “Everything is convoluted. I don’t know how to move forward; each step I take feels wrong.”
“That’s due to you knowing in your heart what is right for you, so when you act in the opposite way of that, then your mind is blanketed by confusion.”
She huffed. “I beg your pardon, but every decision I’m facing just now will either bring heartbreak or more confusion. There is no silver lining.”
“Perhaps you should tell me why.” The soothing sound of his voice urged her to let loose all her secrets.
Bit by bit, Isobel told him about her relationship with her mother and family, about how she’d always been overlooked throughout her life due to the break between both factions of Stormes, of her inability to fit in with the image society was forever touting, of feeling acutely lonely even when surrounded by her loved ones.
Throughout it all, he merely nodded and remained silent, apparently content to let her vent her spleen. That was more appreciated than anything else.
Finally, when the bulk of her tears were spent, he met her gaze. “Tell me about your tempestuous relationship with Royce.”
Was he fishing for information, or did he truly suspect the affair? In the end, she was too exhausted to deny it. Besides, it might clear her mind to talk openly about it with someone who understood the doctor. Isobel sighed and mopped at her damp cheeks. “I’ve seen your brother sporadically over the last couple of weeks.”