An Innocent Affair

XIX

"Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall." Jodi Picoult

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XIX.              

It was not a week later that Jem received a letter from Grace to inform him of the birth of his nephew. He had only known it was a week later as the newspaper was dated, and it seemed to have the story of the Ashwood heir printed in record time. Cecily Beresford worked quickly.

It was announced to the world that Charles Adam Beresford had been born, but Grace's letter had revealed that he had already been given the moniker, 'Charlie'. 

And Jem felt little more than fleeting affection for his newest nephew in and amongst the utter despair he was experiencing. Jem did not know what to do with himself. He did not know how to handle it. He could barely breathe for the pain he felt in his chest.

The newspaper, the birth announcement, confirmed that it had been a week. Cressie had been that man's wife for a week. She was God knows where doing God knows what with that man. It made him want to bring up the pitiful breakfast he'd managed to get down that morning.

Jem did not blame her. He could never blame her. Not in the slightest. Cressie was a victim of her own mother's selfish manipulation. Cressie had gone and married a man she could never love to ensure her mother's living conditions did not fall below that which would make her comfortable. Cressie had felt as though there was no way out. No alternative. Her duty to her mother outweighed her own happiness. Cressie had given away her own life for her mother, and Jem furiously wondered if Mrs Martin could even comprehend the gravity of such a sacrifice.

But Jem did not only blame Mrs Martin. He also blamed himself. Jem blamed himself for not fighting harder, for not standing his ground with Mrs Martin. He blamed himself for allowing her to treat him like a child, and not the young man he was. He blamed himself for not simply taking Cressie away, running away with her to Scotland, to Gretna Green, and wearing the consequences. He'd let her slip right through his fingers, and now she was unhappy, and quite potentially unsafe, in the grasp of that man, and all because he was wealthy.

Jem did not think that he would ever be able to forgive himself for that.

And so, he did the only thing that he could do. The only thing that he could control. He threw himself into his work. Every day, he got up out of bed and shut himself away in the study and did everything that that he could to earn the role that Adam had bestowed him with. His work was the only thing that could entice him to get out of bed in the morning.

Several letters had arrived from Peter, and he and Belle both had called at different times, but Jem had always claimed to be too busy to see them. Claire, as well, had come to visit, but Jem had dismissed her as well.

Jem did not know which of the servants had subsequently sent for his brother a time later, but Peter walked into the study entirely unannounced.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks the moment he laid eyes on Jem, and his face fell with genuine sympathy. Jem hated that look instantly. He didn't want pity. He deserved punishment.

"You look terrible," Peter remarked, gasping as he slowly approached the desk.

Jem stared at his brother and could see the concern in his eyes. Truthfully, Jem had not paid much attention to his own appearance of late. Were he able to grow a moustache and beard, he would have wagered that one would have grown in with the attention that he had paid to his hair of late.

"Jem, we're all worried sick about you. Fancy using the servants as guard dogs to keep your family from seeing you." Peter sighed as he reached the desk, before he placed his palms down on the mahogany and leaned forward. "I am sorry this happened to you, Jem. I really am."