William's sapphire eyes landed on Jerrick. His hand reaching for his mouth paused having heard an unusually despaired tone from Jerrick.
Was he this depressed when he lost his wife?
'Your resting place?" William probed, hoping Jerrick would be more open with him. He didn't find his behavior normal. He never broke down; at least, not in front of others. He was an example of stoicism.
"Yes…" Jerrick's reddened eyes ended on William. "My resting place…is gone…"
William stared back expecting him to speak more.
Jerrick then looked at his empty glass and filled it with the amber sin that offered him solace. But seeing the twinkling golden liquor in the glass, his lips curved to a mocking smile.
Weren't his eyes amber-colored too?
He slammed the glass on the floor, the shattering sound echoing the symphony of war. The liquor splashed, its aroma lingered; a puddle formed on the marble floor, capturing the essence of loss.
William, with a wave of his hand, excused the frightened ladies in the room. He could see that his friend was in deep pain, but what did that scotch do to anger him?
William carefully walked around the glass shards and sat beside Jerrick. In Jerrick's empty eyes, he could sense his descent into the abyss of sorry.
"It was my fault…" Jerrick said, fisting his hands hard; William heard the snapping noise. Jerrick's face was painted with lines of anguish.
"What was?" William asked.
"I let her go… I… I drove her away…And she went far away. So far… I can't even be near her anymore…" Jerrick's blank stare ended up on William.
William sighed. So, this was about Lady Jessamyn, as he predicted.
"What happened to Lady Jessamyn? I heard she is ill," William asked.
He didn't want to pry, although he was curious. He hoped he could be of help in some way. He knew Jerrick held anguish deep in his heart for years and knew one day it would surface when there appeared a crack on his hard exterior.
It appeared that Lady Jessamyn's return had cracked his shell. Whatever that came out of Jerrick was not going to be pretty. He might be a man who valued stoicism, but the heart had a way of bursting out its anguish one way or another.
"She is hurting herself. I touched her, and she hurt herself. Now, I am not even allowed near her. She is in pain, William. She's in pain because she hates me…" Jerrick covered his face with his hands.
William let out a deep breath. "It can't be something serious. Surely, the physicians~"
"It has been a week, William. A week since she opened her eyes. I… when I stepped into the room two days ago, she writhed in pain. She is unconscious, and somehow, she senses me. I give her pain… I can sense her begging me to leave, unable to bear the pain. She doesn't eat and doesn't open her eyes. Even… Physicians are useless. They tell me she's unconscious. How can she find me out if she is unconscious? How? Why? I bet she's awake now that I am not there anymore… It's my fault…"
William patted Jerrick's back as he broke into tears. Oddly, he didn't see the Archduke in front of him. In front of him was a clueless little boy sobbing in pain.
He furrowed his brows as he thought about what Jerrick said. The symptoms imply that…
Could it be…
His eyes widened. He was about to ask his doubt when Jerrick leaned back on the couch, lost in the sea of memories that engulfed him.
"It was my fault. I saw the girl on her lap, and I…" His throat closed with sorrow. He sat up. When he saw Isadora on her lap, the strength he had mustered up till then, vanished.
He remembered the days he lay carelessly on her lap as her delicate fingers ran through his hair. She'd sing him songs and tell him stories she read from the books in her library. She taught him lessons from the classes she took. She expressed her desire to see him in a high place.
She told him many beautiful things. She told him how she wanted to live with him. She wanted to be his and carry his son.
Above all, for someone like him with nothing, she was his resting place, his everything.
He wanted to lay on her lap, even if it was just for a second. That was the beginning of all the problems.
Jerrick's voice turned deep with anguish and darkness. "Her lap… It was my place. Mine alone. She swore she wouldn't let anyone else lie on her lap… She would have allowed him on~"
"Oh, don't go there, Jerrick!" William cut him off. "Do not go there."
He was angry at Jerrick for thinking about what she might or might not have done in her marriage with her husband. That was lowly and crass.
"Do not marry her. Stop the wedding!" William raised his voice. "If this is how you feel, do not do it. I beg of you… It's good neither for you nor her."
Jerrick might be in pain and anguish, but William felt the need to correct him when he was in the wrong. His way of thinking would eventually hurt someone. William feared Jerrick would hurt himself because he didn't think Jerrick had the heart to hurt Jessamyn.
"… I can't…" Jerrick said after staring blankly at the floor for some time. "I…"
I want to keep on looking at her, at least from a distance. I want to know she's there. I want to catch a glimpse of her smile, even by accident. She doesn't have to smile at me, but I'll celebrate if she is happy—from a distance, for I lost the right to see her smile at me.
William saw the small smile blooming on Jerrick's face. He was only confused. What is he thinking?
"I hear it on the streets of Montrose about the love you have for Lady Jessamyn," William said.
"Love?"
Jerrick's gentle expression got wiped out as if someone threw hot water on his face. His face blazed with an intensity that could set the world ablaze, a storm of emotion swirling beneath the surface.
"Who dared to?" he roared. The roar William had heard many times echoing in the battlefield.
William stood up instinctively; he knew that look. Thankfully, Jerrick was not holding a sword.
"You thought word won't travel if you chopped off the tongues of the maids?" William asked.
"No…" Jerrick stood up. His knees trembled, and William held his arms to support him.
"Are you that drunk?" William asked, but looking at Jerrick's face, his eyes widened.
He was not drunk.
Jerrick's face was contorted in terror, his eyes darting side to side frantically, reflecting the horror that churned deep within his soul.
"Jerrick?" William called.
What terrified him?