"Should I be faulted for not having a happy marriage?" Sibella questioned. "Yes! Yes I should be!" she shouted. "And this? This is my fault too!" She threw the newspaper onto the table, causing the china to rattle beneath it.
"How is that your fault?" asked Monty. "It's not as if you wrote and published the article."
"I might as well have! I'm the one who despises my husband, I'm the one endangering you and Phoebe, I'm the one they're all whispering about, I'm the one being accused in the paper!"
"No one's accusing you of anything, it's only-"
"Only gossip? Is that what you were going to say? Oh, Monty," she laughed scornfully. "I have been in the society circles long enough to know that gossip turns to opinions, which turn to speculations, which turn to beliefs, which turn to accusations. It's only a matter of time before the whole of London is whispering and a couple of men in white coats come to take Phoebe and I away to an asylum and throw you back in a prison cell. What we're doing isn't acceptable, it simply isn't done. And society comes down hard on what isn't acceptable."
Monty opened his mouth to counter her, but he was again cut off. "And don't you dare try to tell me that everything will be alright. These people?" She brandished the newspaper once more. "They don't forget a thing like this. Never. After all of us are dead it will still be whispered about by those standing around our tombstones!"
"Sibella-"
"I always feared this would happen," she continued. "I should have known better, we should have been more careful."
"Sibella-"
"I have to leave. I can't be here anymore, not even when Lionel is away. I need to be a better wife, I need to fix my marriage, I need to leave you and Phoebe alone, I need to keep you safe, I need-"
"Sibella!" he shouted, finally silencing her. She stared at him, eyes wide and shining with tears, mouth hanging open slightly,
still caught mid-word. "What did I always tell you growing up?" he asked softly.
"That you wanted to be a pirate?" she questioned, sniffing.
"No, dearest," he chuckled.
Sibella paused for a moment. "We do not worry about 'what ifs', only guarantees," she quoted with a sigh.
"And this is a 'what if', so we're not allowed to worry about it," Monty said gently.
"But what if this is a guarantee and you just can't see it?" Monty gave her a slightly amused look. "Oh," she murmured as she realized what she had said.
"You always did worry too much," he said, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"I'm just so scared," whispered the blonde woman, her voice choked with tears.
"I know, dearest. I know." He stepped towards her and wrapped her in an embrace as she began to sob. "But this is not your fault. None of it is your fault. I need you to promise me you'll at least try to believe that."
"I promise." Her words were muffled as she spoke with her head buried against his chest.
"Good." He kissed the top of her head and held her tightly.
