My Bratty Wife
Chapter 209 - Two Hundred And Nine

Chapter 209: Chapter Two Hundred And Nine

Dressed in a soft, cream-colored nightgown and a warm velvet robe, Suzy curled up on the chaise lounge in her spacious chambers. A low fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls and plush furnishings, illuminating the comfortable armchair where Mrs. Agnes sat opposite her and a small, nearly empty tray with a milk glass and cake crumbs resting on the table beside her.

Mrs. Agnes leaned forward slightly, her hands resting in her lap, her eyes thoughtful as she gathered her memories. "Where to begin... Our Ryan," she started, her voice soft with affection, "was such a bright spark as a boy. Intelligent, yes, but more than that, he was thoughtful. His mother, the late Duchess, was truly a gentle soul. She believed strongly in kindness, in treating everyone with respect, regardless of their station. She taught him that."

A faint smile touched Mrs. Agnes’s lips. "I remember once, he must have been only five , he saw one of the kitchen boys crying because he’d dropped a pail of milk. Ryan didn’t laugh or scold. He left his wooden soldiers right there on the path, went to the boy, patted his shoulder, and then ran off to fetch Cook, insisting she give the boy a sweet bun because ’accidents happen to everyone, Mama says’." She chuckled softly. "He had a good heart, right from the start."

She continued, "He spent hours in his studies, of course, even then. But his favorite times were outdoors. He wasn’t a lonely child then. He had Byron." Her expression softened further. "Young Lord Byron was his half brother. The Duke brought him home one night and said "Ryan, this is your brother." Since then, the two boys were inseparable. Always running through the gardens, climbing trees, playing knights or kings. Their laughter used to echo all the way up to the house. It was a happy sound."

Then, Mrs. Agnes’s smile faded, replaced by a profound sadness that seemed to emanate from deep within her. "And then... his mother fell ill. It was quick, too quick. One season she was arranging flowers in the blue drawing-room, the next... she was gone." Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Ryan was heartbroken. Utterly devastated. He was only six. It was as if the light inside him just... went out."

She paused, looking down at her hands for a moment before meeting Suzy’s gaze again. "He changed. He pushed everyone away. Locked himself in his room for hours, refused to go near the gardens his mother had loved so much. He even pushed Byron away." Suzy saw a flicker of pain in Mrs. Agnes’s eyes as she remembered. "Not unkindly, you understand. Just... quiet refusal. He couldn’t share that grief. Byron, bless his patient heart, didn’t give up. He wouldn’t try to force Ryan to talk, but he would just... be there. Sometimes he’d just sit outside Ryan’s door for a while, or leave a carved bird on the windowsill where Ryan might see it. He waited. He understood, I think, as much as a boy could."

Suzy listened intently, her heart aching for the lonely, grieving boy Ryan had been. She pictured him, small and silent, shutting out the world, even his closest person.

Mrs. Agnes continued, a new memory surfacing. "It went on like that for almost a year. The silence in the estate was heavy then. Until one day, his father had important visitors. A Viscount, a friend of his, came for discussions. And he brought his daughter with him." Mrs. Agnes frowned slightly, tapping her finger against her chin. "I forget her name now... she was a little younger than Ryan. Was it Elene? Elena? No... Eliza? Or perhaps El..."

"Eleanor" Suzy supplied quietly.

Mrs. Agnes’s face lit up immediately. "Eleanor! Yes, that was it! A little thing with bright eyes and absolutely no fear. She wasn’t intimidated by the grand house or by Ryan’s silence." A genuine smile spread across Mrs. Agnes’s face, chasing away some of the sadness. "She roamed round the castle looking for someone to play with. She stumbled upon him in the library, where he was hiding behind a book, and started talking about her new dress. Just like that. And somehow... somehow, she got through."

She leaned closer, her voice wily and warm. "Do you know, Your Grace, that evening was the first time since his mother’s passing that Ryan came to find me in the kitchens with something other than sadness in his eyes? He had a small, hesitant smile on his face. He leaned close and whispered, ’Mrs. Agnes, she smells like Mama’s flowers. The white ones from the south garden. I like her.’" Mrs. Agnes beamed at the memory. "It was like the first ray of sunshine after a long storm. That girl, Eleanor, she brought him out of the darkness he’d wrapped around himself."

Suzy felt a warmth spread through her chest at the image of a young Ryan finding a connection.

"After that," Mrs. Agnes went on, her tone lighter now, "the three of them – Ryan, Byron, and Eleanor – became inseparable. They were the best of friends. Always off on some adventure around the estate. Riding, exploring the woods, daring each other to climb the old ruins by the lake. It did my heart good to see Ryan laughing again, truly laughing. And as they grew older, into teenagers... well, it was clear to anyone with eyes that Ryan had fallen deeply in love with her. He moved into the chateau to avoid his father, writing letters to Eleanor or visiting the castle occasionally to see her."

The lightness in Mrs. Agnes’s voice began to fade again, replaced by a familiar sorrow. "He was young, still learning from his father, not yet the Duke. Eleanor was beautiful, accomplished and was at a marriageable age. But the Viscount, her father... he fell into debt. Serious debt."

She sighed heavily. "He saw a solution. An old, wealthy Duke in a neighboring kingdom was looking for a young wife. The Viscount didn’t hesitate. He needed the money."

Suzy could anticipate the ending, her own heart already clenching in sympathy for Ryan.

"Eleanor was married off," Mrs. Agnes confirmed, her voice low and flat. "Just like that. Ryan wasn’t consulted, his feelings didn’t matter. He wasn’t the Duke yet, he didn’t have the power or wealth to intervene. She was his first love, you see. And losing her like that, so abruptly, so... transactionally... it broke his heart all over again." She shook her head slowly. "That time, the sadness was different. It had a harder edge to it. A bitterness."

She paused, letting the weight of the second heartbreak settle in the quiet room. "Not long after, his father passed away. Suddenly, Ryan was the Duke. The grief from losing Eleanor, combined with the immense responsibility and perhaps... perhaps some lingering resentment towards his own father... it changed him fundamentally. The warmth, the easy laughter, it vanished. He became... stern. Strict. So focused on duty, on tradition, almost obsessed with it. He rarely smiled. He demanded perfection from everyone, including himself. The walls went up around his heart, thicker and colder than ever before."

Mrs. Agnes looked down at her hands again, her voice filled with a quiet pain. "I watched him transform from that sweet, thoughtful boy, scarred but still capable of love, into this... this cold, distant man. And there was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do. It felt like we had lost him all over again."

Then, she looked up, meeting Suzy’s eyes, and reached across the space between them, taking Suzy’s hands gently in her own work-roughened ones. Her touch was warm and firm.

"Until you came, child," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You came into his life, and you... you didn’t shy away from the coldness. You weren’t intimidated. You saw something underneath, didn’t you?"

Suzy nodded silently, her throat tight. "Slowly, patiently, you started chipping away at that wall of ice around him. I see glimpses now,

Your Grace. Glimpses of the boy I remember. A flicker of warmth in his eyes, a moment of unguardedness, the way he looks at you, the way he cares for you, the way he loves you ..."

Tears welled in Mrs. Agnes’s eyes, but these were tears of gratitude. "I am so thankful to you," she whispered, squeezing Suzy’s hands. "Thank you for seeing him. Thank you for bringing back the Ryan I know and love."

Suzy felt her own eyes prickle. She squeezed Mrs. Agnes’s hands back, offering a watery smile. "He was still in there, Mrs. Agnes," she murmured. "He just needed someone to wait, like Byron did."

Just then, a polite knock echoed through the room, breaking the intimate spell. The door opened slightly, and Irene peeked in.

"Your Grace?" Irene said respectfully.

"Begging your pardon, but Cook sent me to say that dinner is ready and waiting in the small dining room whenever you wish."

Mrs. Agnes gently withdrew her hands and patted Suzy’s. "Duty calls," she said softly, her voice regaining its usual calm, though her eyes still held the lingering emotion. She stood up. "You should eat something warm, child. Keep your strength up."

Suzy nodded, feeling emotionally drained but also strangely lighter, armed with a deeper understanding of her husband. "Thank you, Mrs. Agnes."

———————————

A delicate hand, wielded a sharp pair of scissors, slicing cleanly through the top of a thick cream envelope.

The hand belonged to Eleanor. She was reclining against a pile of velvet cushions, a hookah pipe resting beside her. She drew the single sheet of paper from the envelope, her movements precise and calm.

She unfolded the letter, her lips curling into a faint smile as she scanned the brief message. Then, she read it aloud, her voice a low, smooth murmur that contrasted sharply with the harshness of her expression.

"The Duchess... is back... at the chateau ."

She placed the letter down on the low table beside her hookah. Picking up the pipe’s hose, she took a long, slow drag, holding the smoke for a moment before letting it out in a lazy, swirling cloud. Her smile widened.

"Welcome back... Cassandra," she purred, the name dripping with hatred. She watched the smoke dissipate, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You truly should have stayed in Carleton. You will wish you hadn’t returned."