Chapter 2: Backlash
Laura stood in the foyer, frustration mounting. After Remington had abruptly left the anteroom downstairs, she'd wandered the castle in search of him. She knew all too well how during times of emotional turmoil he would turn inwards, shutting out those around him. In years past, she would leave him alone, allow him to work through things in his own time, his own way. Over the course of the last year, however, that had changed. They had worked hard to communicate with one another, especially during times of turmoil that would threaten to pull them apart. If they had learned nothing else, it was that each other's presence served as a balm for open wounds. It was because of this progress that her intuition now insisted that if she let him shut himself off this time, especially in light of all that had happened in the last several weeks, the results would be catastrophic.
I wasn't there. The thought almost haunted her, that she'd been helping Roselli during that time when Remington had wandered the grounds, torn apart by Daniel's revelation about the true nature of their relationship. It should have been me to help him navigate that minefield. It should have been my presence alongside him. The thought that he may have searched her out, would have been unable to find her, clawed at her. He needed me and I wasn't there. She could only take small comfort in the fact that during those immediate moments after Daniel's death she had been there.
With a flip of her head and a spin on her heel, Laura walked determinedly towards the stairs that led to their room. It had been the first place she'd searched when he'd departed the anteroom, but it had stood empty when she'd arrived so she'd gone on to search elsewhere: the library, study, kitchen, grounds… the list went on. It had been nearly an hour now, since she'd last been here. Opening the door to their room, she felt relief sweep through her at the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. A month ago, she would have been inclined to strip down and join him, to entice him into mutual explorations of one another's bodies. Now, after all that had happened in the past week… No, the last few hours, she corrected herself… she hesitated, unsure if he would welcome or reject her. Thus, the decision was made. She moved to the end of their bed to sit down, to wait for him to emerge.
When the flow of water quieted less than a minute later, she surmised he must have been here some time, a conjecture confirmed when he exited the bathroom clean shaven as well as showered. Laura could not help the jolt that passed through her body when she spied his shirtless visage, sporting only a towel slung over his shoulders, presumably to catch the water that dripped from his wet locks. Given the situation at hand, she carefully schooled her face with a blank look, in order to conceal her raging desire for the man before her. On his part, Remington took quick note of Laura sitting upon the bed in wait of him, before turning his back without a word and fishing a turtleneck and sweater from the closet. Tugging both over his head he left them untucked, mindless of his normally impeccable grooming. With another glance in her direction, he retrieved his watch from the dresser, efficiently slipping it over his hand to his wrist, clamping it. Only after he'd retrieved his wallet, slipping it into a pocket, did he join Laura, slowly lowering himself to sit next to her on the bed.
Leaning forward, back bent, elbows on his knees, he flipped open the face of the pocket watch he held in hand, strains of When Irish Eyes Are Smiling trickling through the room. The wordless silence was nearly oppressive, both feeling the strain of it weighing on their shoulders. After a long minute that had seemed to stretch on endlessly, Laura lifted her hand and moved to lay it on his arm in comfort, the hand stilling mid-movement as she saw the nearly imperceptible stiffening of his body as he realized her intent. Her hand fluttered for a moment before returning to her lap.
Remington was the first to break the silence. Rubbing his hand across his face, when he spoke his voice was devoid of demotion. "Like father, like son, eh?" He turned his head in time to see Laura crinkle her nose, squeeze her eyes shut in reaction to the question, confirming what he'd heard earlier, but had prayed his mind had conjured up in his grief and that it had never, in fact, been uttered at all. "How long, Laura?" The question was asked in a bare whisper it had been so difficult to pass across his lips. He tilted his head, watched as her lips moved but no words came forth, saw the helpless gesture made with her hands before they fell once more into her lap. "How long, Laura?" he demanded now, voice raised, strident.
"Last night. I found out last night." Remington nodded in response, his countenance giving no indication of the emotions raging within him.
"Ah, I see. That little stroll in the moonlight then, eh? The one in which nothing at all was spoken of, if I recall correctly." Laura visibly flinched at the sarcasm underlying his tone, peppering his words. A hand lifted to her face, fingers pinched at the bridge of her nose.
"Yes, and no. It's not what you think. I went to his room, searched it while he was out, trying to figure out what he was up to this time," she began, needing to explain. "I found the watch, the pills. I didn't want to believe it. So I stayed, waited for him to return… confronted him. When you saw us walking last night, I was trying to convince him to tell you, that you had a right to know." Remington turned his head away from her, nodded slowly.
"Yet not an hour later, you had misjudged Daniel, had come to realize he was a 'very fine man', wasn't it?" Laura sighed loudly.
"I went to get him, if you recall. I sent him to you, demanded that he tell you!"
Remington moved from the bed so abruptly that it startled Laura, causing her to jump.
"And instead… instead I got the story of Montague." He spun on his heel, facing her, his face a mask of angst, of betrayal. "How could you not tell me then, Laura? You, who is forever going on about the importance of honesty, of trust? How could you, knowing what this meant to me, keep it from me?" Now it was Laura who lunged from the bed, striding towards him, reaching out a hand to touch him, only to have him move away.
"It wasn't my secret to tell," she said on a rising voice, her distress caused by his hurt, her fear, pushing her to the edge of her emotions. "You deserved to hear the truth from your father!"
"Is it that I deserved to hear it from him, or something altogether else?" He swept a shaking hand through his hair, before laying it at the back of his neck, rubbing there. This was the question that had been plaguing him since he'd heard her speak the words downstairs. She faltered, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation, unable to follow.
"I don't understand. What are you asking me?" She stammered the question out, a sense of foreboding creeping over her, cloaking her in coldness similar to being wrapped in a dripping blanket on a freezing day.
"You've never cared for Daniel, his so-called influence upon me. Were you worried if I learned the truth, he'd finally win this endless tug-of-war the two of you have conducted for the last four years? That I'd at last align myself with him, leaving you behind?" Even as he said the words he'd realized the absurdity of them. His heart contracted at the hurt that flashed across her face, before she stumbled backwards toward the bed, sinking down on it. He could not have stunned her more, wounded her deeper, if he'd struck a physical blow at her. Her voice was numb when she spoke.
"Do you honestly believe I could do that? That I could keep what you've wanted the most for your entire life from you… for my own benefit?" He scrubbed his hands at his face, before going to sit near her on the bed.
"No," he answered resignedly. His head drooping, he rubbed the back of it for several long moments. Turning his head away from her, he shook it slowly. "But then what does all of this speak of me, Laura?"
"What do you mean?" He shook his head again, his hand not leaving the back of his neck.
"I've truly given my trust to only two people in my entire life: one that has left me before for another man then has spent the better part of a month dangling another before me; and the other who would not even claim me as his son. Both of them keeping secrets from me, both denying themselves to me." Standing he picked up his coat and walked to the bedroom door, leaning his head against it when he spoke for the last time. "What does that say about who I am, what I am, that the two people I care most about in this world have locked themselves away from me?" He gave her a final glance and she felt her stomach clench at the haunted look on his pale face, his stooped shoulders and flat eyes which made it appear he had aged a decade or more in the course of a couple of hours. He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Laura leaped from the bed, prepared to give chase when the full meaning of what he'd said finally penetrated her mind, freezing her in her place. He knows. Oh my God, he knows about William. She dropped back down to the bed, wondering where this revelation left them.
