There was no urge, no strength to fight Daphne’s comfort, and she was quietly drawn into the lull of the hand across her back, making her feel small, like a child, but in that moment she needed it. She did not feel like Lady Kilmartin, the countess in black. She felt like a girl who still required her sister’s knowing and deft fingers to plait her hair and tie a ribbon in it. She couldn’t help but think of Eloise, who seemed very satisfied to remain unmarried, and wondered if she could ever be the same. But being unmarried was not the same as being widowed … Francesca had tasted love, known it with her soul. And now she was starved.
Do what mother does … Except that their mother had eight children, and already a small brood of grandchildren to occupy her thoughts and time. And Francesca had all of this too, from her position as daughter, sister, aunt, but these pieces of her family were not hers the way it was for her mother. When the older woman had been widowed, she’d already lived such a full, beautiful life, with more children than most. And what did Francesca have to show for her short marriage? No son. No daughter. No one. And the only one who’d known John as well as she did was halfway across the world now ( by her estimates ). She was terribly close to Helen and Janet, and speaking with either Stirling matriarch did succeed in assisting her to carry John’s memory with a smile, rather than tears, but the effect only seemed to last so long before she was alone again, in the bed she used to share with another body.
She sniffled turned her face away from Daphne’s shoulder so as to not stain her sleeve, though did not pull herself out of her hold. “I hope you are right,” she conceded, though she did not contain much of that hope within her. The idea of loving again felt … Impossible. And she could not betray John’s memory so soon by entertaining the possibility. “I thought I might – I might simply busy myself. With the estates, with all his duties. With everything. I did not want to leave Kilmartin … That was the last place he’d been alive.” Coming back to London felt like admitting reality had won, that he was truly gone.
her sister had never seemed so small. francesca had always been the one who stood on her own two feet before the other girls had. she carved out a place for herself in the world and occupied it with such beauty and strength. daphne couldn’t imagine herself in that role. being a duchess was difficult in many instances, but she was always close with her family. she had never suffered the brunt of loss. of losing the family you had chosen before she had the full chance to establish it. so when she is offering comfort to her sister there is a part of her that makes it feel like it’s a lie. when in truth, daphne simply didn’t know one way or the other.
there is a sure nod, “ i am. this is an ending, but it’s not the end of things. ” the future lingered forward and none of them could determine what was at the end of it. she knew the freshness of the wound would offer her no comfort at this time. it was full of stinging and no solace. “ do you have to leave ? ” she asked gently. from what she had recalled of the new lord kilmartin was that he was a good friend to john and francesca, daphne would not have imagined that she would have been cast away from that part of her family.
daphne wished that she had the right words for her sister. unlike her children where she always felt like she said the right thing, here felt all wrong. she had been so blessed never to have suffered in that way. her only experience with grief had been with their father. she supposed she remembered it a little better than francesca had, she was older after all. “ you could always ask mother. ” she said lightly. “ she hides it well but she was heartbroken after father passed and pregnant with hyacinth too. it took awhile before she felt like she was back to her old self. ”
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