There's a suicide mention tw on this chapter. If that sort of thing bothers you, stop reading when Belle goes out into the hall with Dr. Hopper and scroll to the bottom so I can explain what you missed.
Ruby liked to think she was a sensible woman. She'd lost her entire family to influenza before she was eighteen and had found herself with a company to run and no family left except a grandmother and a fiance. After Peter had died a month before their wedding, she'd thrown herself into her father's business with more gusto than skill - and a lot of pure beginner's luck. There had been a fairly steep learning curve, but she'd become adept at finding those who had the experience to make up for where her finishing school education had failed her, and that was a talent that had served her well.
Her efforts had indeed paid off, and Ruby was one of the few heiresses with full control of her own destiny. She could choose her companions, she could set her own hours, and she could decide whether or not to marry. It had been a relief, in a way, to know that she'd never have to worry about losing anyone else she loved before their time. There would be no husband and no children to become sick and leave her and no chance of her leaving anyone else. Her Granny would sometimes nag her about it, wondering when her only surviving descendant would settle down. Each wedding announcement in the paper seemed a ticking of the clock to Mrs. Lucas, while Ruby saw only a freedom from hurt. She had money enough to last her the rest of her days in comfort unless she overextended herself, and that would be enough.
She still attended parties sometimes, mostly those of her close friends. Unlike the other girls there, though, she had to be awake the next morning to hear from lawyers and board members and to read reports. She tried to think of it as being a mother to the company, and the men she hired were its nannies and governesses. If she wanted this child to continue to grow and thrive, she needed to be involved in its daily life - she was ultimately the only one responsible for it, and nobody would ever care as much as she did if it was successful.
It was very distressing when she started to like the Englishman, then. He was here for a bride, and she had no desire to be one. At first it had seemed like a harmless little lark. She'd never had an opportunity to meet anyone with a title (or heir to one, as the case may be) and when the opportunity had presented itself there hadn't been anyone to tell her no. Anyway, he'd seemed like he needed a kind word, so she'd given him one. She'd thought him handsome, but hadn't quite managed to form too much of an opinion on him beyond that. A few days into the house party, though, she was pretty sure she was in trouble.
He liked to hunt. Ruby had always enjoyed the outdoors; even when she'd been a girl she had always been happier outside. It wasn't really ladylike, but there had been no keeping her inside, and after a while her parents had relented. Ruby had been on horses since she'd been in pinafores and had been on her first hunt before she'd started her monthlies. Sometimes men found it a little intimidating (especially when coupled with the business), which tended to work to her advantage when she wasn't looking for a husband, but Gaston French had simply taken in this knowledge with a startling enthusiasm before engaging her in a forty-five minute long conversation about hunting. The truly strange part, though, was not that he wanted to talk to her, nor that he concluded the conversation with a vague comment about the prime hunting on his estate. No, the strange part was that Ruby actually enjoyed that conversation and found herself a little sad when it was over and he had to move on to other people.
There was a peculiar pang in her heart as she sat with the other ladies and talked about dresses and children and husbands and things she would have found interesting less than ten years previously. He would choose a bride soon (in fact, he had already come to her asking her opinion on the matter) and then he'd leave. It was so silly to be disappointed by that, but he was new and interesting and damn her, she found that fascinating. It had been so long since she'd wanted to spend much time with another person. Maybe she was just lonely. She should probably just get a pet or something.
The other women all got quiet, and Ruby looked up to see Gaston French standing in the doorway with a bashful smile on his face.
"Excuse me, ladies," he said, earning himself a round of giggles. "I had hoped to steal Miss Lucas for a moment."
As one, the other women turned towards Ruby with a variety of expressions on their faces. There was nothing she could do but set her cup down in front of her and join him in the hallway. The other women didn't start talking again until she and Gaston were out of sight, and she couldn't help but to feel their eyes on her back.
"What are you doing?" she scolded as soon as they were out of earshot. "They're all going to think you've got some interest in me."
"So?" he replied with a shrug. "That's hardly the worst thing they could think."
"You cannot be this dense," she said. "If you're looking for a wife, you can't be spending time alone with single women."
"Who said I was still looking?" he asked earnestly, fixing her with a gaze that had her stomach doing somersaults. She knew what that feeling meant, and it instantly set her on edge. The last thing she needed was emotions that could just get her hurt all over again.
"You're still looking," she replied as firmly as she could. "You are definitely still looking."
He chuckled a little and nodded, and she felt her resolve crumbling in the face of how boyishly handsome he looked. Damn her romantic heart.
"I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a ride tomorrow morning," he asked, looking into her eyes hopefully.
She should say no. She should say no and let him down gently, go back into the drawing room with the other women and forget she liked him. She wasn't going to be able to handle having her heart broken again, and liking him any more than she already did was risking that.
"Alright," she said at last. "Tomorrow."
He smiled and bowed before turning and practically skipping down the hall. She was going to get herself into so much trouble, but she hadn't been able to say no. Was she just planning to marry him so she didn't have to make him sad?
She was entirely beyond hope.
Belle wasn't sure what had possessed her husband to plan a picnic by himself, but he'd only come to her to ask if she thought the old fort just outside of town was a good place to visit. It was an incredibly common destination for groups to spend the afternoon exploring or eating, and Belle had been several times in her life - which was fortunate, because neither her husband nor his son had ever been. As far as she could tell, Neal actually hadn't ever spent much time at all outside of the city, and he was almost as distracted by the birds as Rose (who was still having a few problems adjusting to her new leashed lifestyle).
The best place to picnic on, as far as Belle was concerned, was in what had been the parade yard of the fort. In the time since it had been abandoned, a large oak tree had taken root and grown there and it was now quite a decent size and provided a pleasant shade.
"So you've been here before?" Neal asked her once they were seated on blankets with hampers of food between them.
"Oh many times," she replied. "My friends and I used to sneak up here to go exploring sometimes."
"How old were you?" Rhys asked, sounding a little scandalized. "It's nearly five miles from your father's house."
"Probably around eleven," she said. "But it's half that distance from my friend Miranda's house, and only a mile or so from her grandmother's."
It had been the most freedom she'd ever experienced in her life. Gaston had been away at school, and far too old to be interested in the day-to-day activities of little girls even if he hadn't been. The two of them had spent several days visiting with the older woman, which had allowed them the freedom to roam into the outskirts of the town unsupervised.
There was an alcove in the fort that opened along a southern-facing wall that the girls found particularly intriguing. It had been used to store ammunition or something when the fort was functional, but by then it was simply an incredibly dark room. No light penetrated beyond the first foot or two no matter the time of day, and the one time they had brought a candle with them they still hadn't been able to see very far in. Perhaps the most daring thing Belle had ever attempted was trying to find the back of the alcove. She had stepped into the dark with her hands held in front of her and took slow steps towards the back. The two children had tried this multiple times, but never managed to feel all the way to the back before a fear of snakes and spiders and things that went bump in the night would inevitably draw them back out. She hadn't thought of that alcove in years, and she wondered if now she might finally be brave enough to reach the end.
"What happened to her?" Neal asked, startling Belle out of her thoughts. "To your friend."
"What always happens with girls, I suppose," Belle said. "We grew apart, and she got married."
And even if they hadn't, Miranda was the daughter of a local judge and Belle the daughter of a Viscount and then Belle had been ruined and female companionship of any sort had become the last thing on her mind. Even now, she still didn't want to run the risk of approaching her old friends and putting them in a position to be forced to reject her. She was safer where she was, and happier, too.
At least the conversation was able to go on much without her while she prepared a plate for the puppy and then fed herself, allowing her to be lost in her memories a little longer. The trip was enjoyable, but it was a strange echo of her childhood and it made her feel strange to be there as an adult with her husband. As a girl, she'd always thought the fort might be haunted and she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she'd been correct at the time.
After dinner, Neal decided he wanted a tour, which Belle was happy to accommodate him on. Rhys tagged along, so the three of them (and Rose) made their way through the various rooms and ruins of the fort as Belle relayed stories of the games she'd played there as a child and whatever local lore she happened to know. It was a fairly pleasant way to spend the day, all things considered. Belle hadn't spent much time thinking about this place in what felt like ages, and she hadn't even realized she'd missed it.
The final place to visit was the tower. There had been two of them at one time, but at some point the other one had been destroyed. It provided a grand view of the area and had been the home of many a dragon-guarded princess in Belle's time. The stairs were a little bit crumblier than she remembered them being, but they all made it up safely anyway. It had been a long time since she'd been up there, and the last time had involved waiting patiently in the hopes a wandering knight would stumble on her and fall desperately in love. Now she was here with her husband, because the mystery knight had never appeared when she'd needed help - but Rhys had. It was a surprisingly nice thought, wasn't it? That her husband would save her when she needed help. It wasn't something she'd ever known to want, but it was true now.
When they descended the stairs, she took the chance of leaning over and kissing him on the cheek about midway down. He paused for a second and glanced at her, and she smiled because she couldn't help being entirely too happy. She was holding the puppy in her arms, and took the next step and Rhys began to follow and that's when he fell.
Rhys hit the ground so hard he saw stars. Looking up at his wife and son in a daze, he couldn't figure out why they were still standing on the stairs above him. It took a split second for Neal to start moving, but his son was at his side soon and Belle wasn't far behind. She set the dog down and knelt next to him and he couldn't quite take his eyes away from her face. She looked so scared; he wanted to reassure her but he was feeling dazed and there was a pain shooting up his bad leg and his wrist.
"Papa," Neal said. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," Rhys managed to say at last. "I just took a bit of a tumble."
"Can you stand?" Neal asked.
Rhys nodded, but when he reached for his cane, his hand couldn't properly grip it.
"I hurt my wrist," he finally admitted. "And my leg hurts."
"Damn, Papa," Neal muttered and Rhys didn't really have the inclination to scold him for his language. "Did you break it?"
Rhys wasn't sure, so he didn't answer. Instead he looked over to Belle, who was stroking his hair and looked like she might cry. He wanted to comfort her, but Neal pulled him up and held him upright.
"We need to get him home," Neal said. and Rhys heard Belle agree.
The carriage ride back to the house was a blur of blue eyes and bumpy roads, but soon enough he was being dragged into his bedroom by Neal and Jefferson and his boots were off and he was in bed and Belle was sitting on the side of his bed and holding his good hand.
"It'll be okay," she said. "We've sent for the doctor, he'll be here soon."
"He's going to tell me to take a walk," Rhys said. "He always tells me to take a walk."
She giggled a little bit.
"Only sometimes," she replied. "But you hit your head when you fell, and your wrist is broken."
"Oh," was all he could think to say. "Is it?"
"I think so," she said, stroking his hair a little. "Just rest and wait for the doctor."
"Anything for you," he said, turning into her hand as she touched his hair. "I'm sorry to have been so much trouble."
"You're not trouble," she replied quickly. "I shouldn't have distracted you. I'm sorry."
"I liked it," he said.
"I did, too," she said, leaning down and kissing his cheek again. "But rest, dear."
"You sound like my mother," he said. "She would always say that when I was sick."
"Oh?"
He nodded, and felt a wave of dizziness come over him when he did.
"Will you tell me about her?"
There was a reason he hadn't told her before, but he couldn't think of it right now.
"She was pretty like you," he said, and that earned him another smile. "And kind. And I loved her very much."
"I wish I could have known her," she said, stroking his hair again. "Would you tell me a story about her?"
"My father used to be gone for months at a time," he said. "So it would be just the two of us."
"Was he a sailor?" she asked.
"Just a drunk," he replied, trying to focus on her face. "I don't know where he went. But when he was gone, I would help out whenever I could. Mostly I'd do odd jobs, whatever brought home a little bit of money. I still remember when we'd have some extra money she would buy me a little piece of penny candy and at night she would sit at the side of the bed before I went to sleep and sing to me and then give me the candy. I was so happy those times."
Belle had tears in her eyes and Rhys was kicking himself, because he never remembered how awful that story sounded to the wealthy. They didn't like to think about little boys and their mothers being left alone or the level of poverty he'd been in. He was struggling to think of some way to lessen the effect of the story on her when she squeezed his good hand lightly.
"That was a lovely story," she said at last. "Thank you for telling it to me. What happened to your parents?"
That wasn't something he liked to think about. It was red and hot and terrible and he was crying and Belle was shushing him and looked alarmed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You don't have to answer."
"They're both dead," he sobbed. "Dead and gone and it's all my fault."
She was petting his hair again, and that soothed him a bit. He liked the way it felt when she touched him. He was having a little bit of trouble focusing, but the way the light from the window was blurring around her made her look like an angel. She giggled and smiled at him and he realized he'd said it out loud, but he didn't have time to be embarrassed with the entrance of the doctor.
Belle had known Dr. Hopper for years now. He'd come to town when the previous physician, who had delivered her, retired. He'd been the one to see her when she had returned home from London in order to convalesce, though, and she was desperately hoping he wouldn't mention anything about that. It felt like it had been ages since she was that girl bedridden and dying, and his presence here was just a reminder of how far she'd fallen before.
"Good afternoon," Dr. Hopper said, coming to displace Belle at her husband's side. "How is he doing?"
"He's…" she was looking for a way to explain the odd behavior. "He's talking, but he's acting erratically."
"His son said he hit his head?" Dr. Hopper asked, prodding Rhys and feeling his heartbeat.
"He did," she confirmed. "He fell on the stairs at the old fort. I didn't think it was that hard, but…"
"Mr. Gold," Dr. Hopper said. "I need you to follow my finger with your eyes, okay?"
Rhys nodded, and Dr. Hopper began moving his index finger back and forth in front of her husband's eyes. Even Belle could see that Rhys was having trouble following, and finally he just settled his eyes back on her.
"Mr. Gold," Dr. Hopper said, pulling Rhys' attention back to him. "How long have you been married?"
Rhys looked confused for a few minutes and glanced to Belle and back to the doctor.
"A few weeks," he said at last. "Not too long."
"Is that correct?" Dr. Hopper said, looking back to Belle.
"It's been just over three months," she replied, feeling her heart sink into her belly at her husband's forgetfulness. Something was very, very wrong.
Dr. Hopper looked back to Rhys and made a humming noise. He held one of Rhys' eyelids open and stared at him for a long while before moving on to the other one.
"Mr. Gold, I'm afraid you have a mild concussion," Dr. Hopper said at last. "You'll need plenty of rest, but you'll be fine."
Belle could have fainted from relief, but instead she sat down at the foot of Rhys' bed - eliciting a groan that reminded her of his other, less serious, injuries.
"He said his leg and arm hurt as well," she said, and Dr. Hopper nodded, picking up Rhys' wrist and probing it gently. She could see it was swollen, and her husband hissed in pain at the touch.
"He definitely broke that," Dr. Hopper said, gesturing for Belle to stand again and then he threw off the bedclothes and bent to examine Rhys' leg. "This is just a sprain, though. It probably only hurt so much because of the injury that was already there. I suspect when he fell, he threw his hands up to protect his head and that's how he hurt his wrist."
Belle simply nodded, because what else could she do? She hated feeling helpless, and here she was completely useless to her husband. It was all she could do to keep track of what the doctor was telling her.
"Can you ring for his valet?" Dr. Hopper asked. "There's no reason for him to remain in these clothes."
"Of course," Belle said, running to ring for Jefferson while the doctor rolled up Rhys' sleeve and began to wrap it in a splint.
It didn't take Jefferson long to reach the room, and after Dr. Hopper gave him instructions he immediately set to work pulling out clean nightclothes, and Belle was once again left without anything to do.
"Mrs. Gold?" the doctor got her attention. "May I speak with you in the hall?"
She nodded and followed him out the door. There was some grumbling noises and a little bit of yelling to be heard from the room once she shut the door, and she was quite certain she didn't want to know what was going on, but her husband trusted Jefferson and that was good enough for her.
"Is everything all right?" she asked the doctor. "Is there something wrong with my husband?"
"Oh, no," Dr. Hopper said. "He shouldn't be alone for a day or two until his brain has time to recover, and the splint needs to stay on him for at least six weeks. But I'm not particularly worried about his prognosis."
Belle let out a deep sigh and swayed a little on her feet. Rhys would be okay, that meant her life was going to be able to continue. She hadn't even realized how terrified she'd been that something was very wrong until that very moment.
"Thank goodness," she finally said.
"I just wanted to see how you're doing," Dr. Hopper said at last. "The last time I saw you, you weren't in a good place."
"I've been busy," she replied testily. "I've only been married a little while, after all."
"Yes, I know," he said quickly. "I just wanted to make sure that things were going well."
"Very well," she said. "My husband is very dear to me and treats me very well."
"That's good to hear," he replied so earnestly it was hard to maintain her annoyance with him. "And you haven't felt the urge to do anything quite so drastic again?"
That was a question nobody had ever dared to ask her before, or at least not quite so bluntly, and it took her a moment to formulate an answer.
"No," she finally said. "I haven't wanted to kill myself since before I was married. Are we done?"
"Yes, of course," he said quickly. "I'm sorry for bringing up any bad memories. Do call for me if you need anything at all."
"I will," she said, feeling exhaustion begin to work its way into her soul. "But for now, I should see to my husband. The maid will show you out."
She should walk him to the door herself, but she didn't have the emotional fortitude to do so and she needed reassure herself that Rhys was healthy and happy. Dr. Hopper simply nodded and descended the stairs while Belle returned to her husband's room. He was still a little dazed, but somehow Jefferson had managed to get him into his nightclothes.
"Belle," Rhys said with a smile on his face. "You came back."
"Don't be silly," she replied, dropping down into the chair next to his bed again. "I was only just outside."
He reached his good hand out and she held it in both of hers.
"The doctor left him some laudanum," Jefferson said from his place near the end of the bed. "He's not allowed to have any until his concussion goes away, though."
"I keep telling him I feel fine," Rhys added. "But he won't let me have any for my wrist."
"And I'm not going to let you have it, either," she replied. "We'll see how you're feeling tomorrow."
Rhys grumbled, but stopped as soon as she reached out to toy with his hair a little.
"Will you need anything?" Jefferson asked at last.
"No," Belle said, barely turning away from her husband. "You can tell Neal that he can come back upstairs, though."
Poor Neal had been sent downstairs almost immediately after his father was deposited in bed. Rhys kept insisting he didn't need Neal to waste time on nothing, and Neal had muttered something about needing to wait for the doctor anyway. Belle could only imagine that he'd probably been climbing the walls in the parlor waiting for news.
Jefferson nodded and let himself out of the room, leaving Belle and her husband alone again. What would Rhys say, she wondered, if he knew her secret? He certainly knew of her bedrest and that she'd gone through terrible times, but she'd never told him about the worst day - the day that she hadn't been brave enough or strong enough anymore. It had been so easy, and the worst part was she didn't regret it. She didn't regret a single moment of it. She had hated being so ill afterward, but had she succeeded...she didn't have much of an opinion on that, really. She was beginning to enjoy her life again, but there were still days that she wondered if it wouldn't have been better everyone if she hadn't failed.
Neal entered quietly, jarring Belle from her thoughts. Rhys was dozing lightly now, but Belle wasn't going to leave him for any reason she could foresee.
"How's he doing?" Neal asked, taking Jefferson's place by the footboard.
"Well enough," Belle said. "The doctor says he should be fine in a day or two, except for his wrist."
"That's good," Neal replied. "How are you holding up?"
That question took her by surprise and she looked up at him quickly.
"I'm well," she told him. "He gave me a fright, but knowing that he'll be okay...I'll be fine."
"Good," Neal said. "I have to write some letters I've been putting off. Will you be all right with him?"
"We'll be fine," Belle said. "I'll take care of him."
Neal smiled at her, and took his leave. Belle was glad to at last be alone with her husband. He looked so small in the bed like that, and she hated to leave him there by himself. It didn't take long to strip herself out of her dress, though her corset took a bit more maneuvering to get it unfastened at the front. Once she was in her shift and stockings, she climbed into bed with him and slid under the covers.
It was strange how something like this had become such a comfort to her the last few weeks. Sharing a bed with her husband kept her there, though, when she sometimes felt herself slipping away - and she was sliding through her fingers now. It didn't matter if he was awake or not, or that he was too injured to hold her properly. Belle still curled onto her side with her hand on his chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Emboldened, she moved closer still, resting her head on his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her husband was alive and they were happy and that could keep her going for now. This was, perhaps, the one thing that she knew was unequivocally good about failing to kill herself. She'd never have known Rhys had she succeeded, and she was glad to have him in her life now. He was perhaps the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she wanted to be that to him, too.
Yeah, so I know a lot of people were theorizing that Belle got pregnant and had an abortion/terminated the pregnancy but she tried to poison herself in the wake of what happened and was sent back to the country house to 'convalesce' so that nobody would find out about it. That's also when her maid would have left her employ. We'll be revisiting this again later on to get more into her motives, and also because Rhys still doesn't know.