by Rose Pearson
Amelia saw Lady Smithton turn her head away, a troubled look in her eyes. The letter burned her fingers, making her look down at it again. What was it Lord Montague had written? What truth did Lord Havisham now know that he feared would turn her from Lord Montague altogether? Her heart began to beat hard against her chest as a swirl of anxiety rushed through her.
“You will come tomorrow, Lady Amelia?”
She looked up from her letter, seeing Lord Havisham’s concerned expression. “I—I will,” she agreed, quietly.
“Even if what you read in the letter turns you away from the idea entirely? Even if you feel as though you do not wish to be with anyone save for your own company?” There was a slight hardness to Lord Havisham’s tone as though he were concerned her word would not be enough.
Amelia nodded, her eyes narrowing just a little as she looked back at Lord Havisham. “You have my word,” she stated, as Mrs. Peters nodded. “I will be at your residence tomorrow, Lord Havisham. At four o’clock precisely.”
It was some hours later before Amelia had a chance to sit alone with Lord Montague’s letter. She had spent some time with Lord Havisham, Lady Smithton, Mrs. Peters, and, latterly, the other members of ‘The Spinster’s Guild’ who had joined Lady Smithton for dinner. There had been a slight strain between Lady Smithton and Lord Havisham, she had noted, which she had found a little troubling. Where it founded from, she could not say, but the quick glances between them and the somewhat stilted conversation made it quite apparent there was something yet unsaid that needed to be spoken of between the two.
The dinner had been a welcome distraction from all that was going on within her own heart, Amelia reflected, as she thanked the maid before sending her from the room. She had been able to laugh, to smile and to enjoy the conversation between the other ladies of ‘The Spinster’s Guild’ and had felt a surge of hope with the news that one, Miss Bavidge, had managed to find herself a very respectable gentleman and was, in fact, now engaged! The letter from Lord Montague had remained almost entirely forgotten as she had shared in Miss Bavidge’s joy, glad for the lady that she had found such happiness.
And now, some hours later, she was entirely alone and now ready to read the letter Lord Montague had written her. Lord Havisham had given her fair warning that there were to be truths within it that would pain her, but she had already given her word that she would be present at Lord Havisham’s home tomorrow afternoon, regardless of what she read.
“Oh, Lord Montague,” she whispered, feeling the same surge of pain within her heart that had come to her the very first moment he had stepped away from her, leaving her only with that faint impression of his lips on her hand and a hope that had immediately begun to die away. “What is it you have done?”
She pressed the letter to her chest, closing her eyes tightly and feeling the bite of curiosity press into her heart. It had been such a wonderful moment, to share with Lord Montague the love that had been within her heart. She had known then that he did not see her as so many others did. They looked at her limp and then at her, in her entirety, whereas he saw only her. Her limp meant nothing to him. He did not disregard her because of it, did not treat her cruelly or mock her over it. Instead, he had found in her a beauty she had barely been able to see herself. He had encouraged her, helped her, brought her forward into the light and refused to allow her to escape back into the darkness. He had defended her to others, had refused to let his peers speak to her in the way they thought she deserved. In short, he had shown her the evidence of his love without even speaking a word of it to her.
Tears began to cloud her vision, and Amelia blinked rapidly, forcing them away. Her hands shook as she turned the letter over and snapped the seal apart. Unfolding it, she looked it over carefully, her heart racing furiously.
“My dear Lady Amelia,” she read aloud, her voice nothing more than a whisper. “You will think me a fool, a rogue, and a cad, for that is what I am. I will not shirk from it. And yet, my heart has found a love for you that will never be removed from me. Your name is etched there, ever to remain, even though I know I do not deserve your affections in return. I am unworthy of you, Lady Amelia, for I have done you a most cruel wrong.”
Her hand pressed to her mouth as she continued to read, no longer able to whisper the words aloud. Her vision blurred; her heart began to ache with such a heavy pain that it was all she could do to continue reading. Lord Davidson had made a bet, and Lord Montague had agreed to it. He had agreed to it due to his own cowardice, his fear—of that, he freely admitted. There was no pretense there, no unwillingness to face the truth. Over and over, he told her he was entirely at fault, entirely to blame. At first, he had thought only to ensure the bet was won and that he would escape without any difficulty, only to find himself in love with her. His heart had built up such a regard for her that he had not known what to do.
Amelia wanted to scream aloud, such was the agony within her heart. Lord Montague had played her for a fool, and yet within his conniving, there had come a strange affection he had not been able to explain. He had tried to turn from it, just as she had done, but it would not allow him to depart.
But she had not been sought out by him, as she had first thought. He had not come near to her due to his own, honest interest. He had done so in order to encourage her affections, to get her to fall in love with him so that he might win the bet and be freed from any threat of Lord Davidson’s.
Her heart burned with a fierce pain that stole her breath. She wanted to cry out aloud but knew she could not do so, for fear of rousing the staff or her uncle. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, the letter now lying on the bed beside her, the final few words left unread. Lord Montague was right to state she would now see him as nothing more than a rogue and a cad. Everything he had called himself, she could not pretend she did not agree with. He had taken her affections and attempted to use them against her, had tried to toy with her heart, but instead had found his own caught up in much the same way as hers.
Her whole body shook with agony and sorrow. Curling up into a ball on her bed, Amelia pulled the covers over herself, her eyes sore with tears. Lord Montague had betrayed her. Nothing of what he had said, nothing of what he had done, had been honest. His singular desire had been to protect himself from the consequences of what might come should Lord Davidson carry out his threat. He had not cared for her.
But he has told you the truth now, said a small voice within her. He has confessed all to you because of what he now feels. Are you to turn away from him altogether?
She could not answer that question, for the pain within her heart was much too great to be reckoned with. Everything in her wanted to remove herself entirely from Lord Montague, feeling the trust she had allowed herself to have in him had now been shredded completely. She did not know Lord Montague, she realized, not in any true sense. She could not tell whether what they had shared had been with the true Lord Montague or with a character he had played in order to encourage her affections. The times he had stood by her side, had come to her defense and had encouraged her to ignore the dark, malicious glances of the ton—had that been nothing more than Lord Montague play acting the gentleman he knew she needed? Or had he truly felt the anger, the frustration and the urge to defend her? Could she trust now that anything he said was, in fact, the truth? Did he really care for her? Was this affection, this regard, truly within his heart?
What if, in writing this letter, he seeks to have you confess your love for him regardless? Would that not prove to both himself and Lord Davidson, that you have, in fact, fallen in love with him? Love forgives, does it not? It is unrelenting, even in the face of great pain and great wrongdoing. If you write to him, if you go to him and tell him your heart is still filled with none but him, then will he not declare himself the victor?
Closing her eyes, Amelia covered her face with her hands, feeling her confusion and her doubts beginning to swirl all around her like dark shadows. She did not know what to think and certa
inly did not know what to do. Lord Montague could not be trusted, for his words might be very easily twisted to have her do what was required for him to win his bet. Lord Davidson might be forcing him to prove she loved Lord Montague so that his bet could be won in its entirety.
“What do I do?” she whispered, her body beginning to shake as she sobbed into her pillow. The letter fell to the floor, the final few lines still unread, as Amelia began to cry in earnest. Her leg ached terribly, reminding her of its presence, of the strife it had caused her. Her heart was sore, her mind filled with agonized thoughts, and her whole being burning with a mixture of shame and humiliation.
What was she to do? She had given her word, yes, that she would go to Lord Havisham’s home tomorrow afternoon, but everything within her rebelled against the idea of even leaving the house. She wanted to stay here, hidden away, lingering in sorrow until the pain began to lessen just a little. Why had Lord Havisham been so insistent? Why had he urged her to give her word?
Soon, a quietness began to take a hold of Amelia’s heart and mind. A quietness that came after a long bout of weeping, sending a weariness through her that she could not ignore. Her eyes began to close, her questions remaining unanswered, but such was her weariness that she could not give them any more of her strength. A few more tears streaked down her cheeks, soaking into her already damp pillow. Lord Montague had taken her for a fool, and she had proven him correct in his estimation of her. She had given him her heart easily, finding she was so desperate to be accepted just as she was that she had allowed her heart to fill with him without much hesitation. Yes, Lady Smithton had warned her from him, and yes, she had tried her best to take heed of such concerns, but she had been quite unable to prevent her affections from growing. In the end, she had been glad to give her heart to him, had been overjoyed to share with him the regard that now lingered with her—and he had promised her that he too felt the same, only to turn his back on her completely.
Amelia took in a ragged breath, her eyes closing tightly. She did not know what to think now, and certainly did not know what to do. When the morning light came, perhaps she would be able to see things a little more clearly, but for the moment, she would have to linger in her sea of confusion and pain. Sleep would hold no peace for her, she was quite certain, for her dreams would be filled with none but him.
“What am I do to?” she whispered aloud, pulling the covers around herself a little more tightly before, finally, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
“My dear Lady Amelia!”
Amelia held up one hand as Lady Smithton threatened to swoop down to her, her concern evident in her expression.
“I am quite all right, Lady Smithton, I assure you,” she said, knowing full well her white face and red-rimmed eyes portrayed precisely the opposite. “I thank you.”
Lady Smithton blinked, then looked to Mrs. Peters, who gave a small shake of her head.
“Lord Havisham has explained all to me,” Lady Smithton murmured, gesturing for Amelia to come further into Lord Havisham’s small parlor, where there was a tea tray waiting. “I am very sorry to hear of what Lord Montague has done, Lady Amelia.”
Amelia said nothing but sat down quickly, feeling a sudden weakness in her limbs she wanted desperately to fight. Ever since she had risen this morning, she had felt herself so tired and weary, it was taking every ounce of her strength merely to continue this conversation. She was numb now, feeling as though her heart had been pulled from her and nothing but an empty space now sitting in her chest.
“It was a great shock,” she murmured as Mrs. Peters pressed a cup of tea into Amelia’s cold hands. “I did not once imagine I was nothing more than a plaything to Lord Montague.” She turned her head away, not wanting to give in to the tears that threatened yet again. “It has been a difficult truth to accept, Lady Smithton, as I am sure you understand.”
“And yet,” Lady Smithton said quietly, her eyes searching Amelia’s face as Amelia looked back at her. “There is a small modicum of hope, is there not?”
“Hope?” Amelia spat the word back at her. “There is no hope. Lord Montague only wrote to me in the hope that I would still confess my love for him, that I would tell him that despite it all, I cannot pretend I do not feel an affection for him.”
Mrs. Peters’ eyes widened as she looked back at Amelia, clearly startled. “But for what reason, Amelia?” she asked as Amelia closed her eyes against the fresh wave of tears that threatened. “His letter appeared to be quite genuine.”
“Do you not see?” Amelia whispered, hopelessly. “He intends to have me do as Lord Davidson has stated. If I tell him my heart is filled still with regard for him, that will prove to Lord Montague and to Lord Davidson that I love him desperately. Lord Montague will win the bet. Lord Davidson will gain his coffers, and Lord Montague will be freed from any fear that Lord Thornhill will know of his indiscretions.”
There was silence for a minute or so, with both Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton exchanging troubled glances. Amelia said nothing more, turning her head away from them both and feeling her heart sink low in her chest. She did not know precisely why Lord Havisham had asked her here this afternoon, but nor did she truly care. There was too much of a burden on her shoulders, too much sorrow and sadness that crushed her, breaking both her spirit and her heart.
“You do not believe his words, then,” Lady Smithton said softly. “That is not something I shall condemn you for, Lady Amelia. It is more than understandable. But,” she continued, leaning a little forward in her chair, “I must ask you whether or not you do truly love Lord Montague still, as you have just said.”
Amelia sighed heavily, closing her eyes and forcing herself to nod, knowing she was unable to force the words from her lips. Even through the pain and the sorrow, she knew the love she had for Lord Montague had not gone from her heart. It had faded a little, of course, torn down by the agony of his actions, but she had not lost it entirely. Just quite how long it would take for her to remove it from herself, she did not know, but she prayed it would not be overly long.
“Then I shall continue to give you my words of guidance,” Lady Smithton said gently, her expression filled with compassion. “I confess I fear I have not been the help I ought to have been to you, Lady Amelia, but I shall state what I feel regardless.” She smiled gently, but Amelia felt no hope nor comfort, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I still cling to the belief that there may yet be a modicum of hope, Lady Amelia. Lord Montague has done you a great disservice, yes, but he may be truthful in his repentance. I can well understand your reasons for disbelieving him, but I shall pray for a moment of hope that spreads out towards a future happiness, Lady Amelia. That is, after all, what we are present here for this afternoon.”
Amelia lifted her head sharply, looking directly into Lady Smithton’s face and seeing the glimmer of a smile on the lady’s face. “Why am I here, Lady Smithton?” she asked, feeling a trifle uneasy. “And why has Lord Havisham not yet come to greet us?”
Lady Smithton opened her mouth to explain, only for the sound of voices to reach Amelia’s ears. Looking around the room for some explanation as to where these voices now came from, Amelia’s eyes finally found the source of the noise. A door to the right of the fireplace was now a little ajar. She had not noticed it before, having come in an entirely different way.
“Lord Montague has called upon Lord Havisham,” Lady Smithton explained quietly, getting to her feet and creeping towards the door, where Amelia noticed three chairs had been placed. “And Lord Thornhill is expected at any moment.”
Amelia caught her breath, staring wide-eyed at Lady Smithton, who was now beckoning her towards the door. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she began to shake her head, her whole body caught up with a sudden shudder. “I cannot,” she whispered, a wave catching her and throwing her about with the fury of her emotions. “It would not be right.”
“Normally, I would advise you most severely that eavesdropping is not at all seemly,�
� Mrs. Peters murmured, leaning towards Amelia and pressing one hand atop hers. “But in this situation, my dear lady, I know it would bring you a good deal of clarity, which would aid you in your struggles.”
“Clarity?” Amelia repeated, not quite certain what Mrs. Peters meant and still quite overcome with what Lady Smithton was asking her to do. “I am to listen to a private conversation in the hope that it will bring me some sort of understanding?”
Mrs. Peters smiled gently. “But of course,” she answered, pressing Amelia’s hand. “You state you believe Lord Montague wrote you such a letter in the hope that you would still profess your love so that he might win his bet. What if that is not so? What if he means every word?”
Amelia shook her head, her throat beginning to ache. “I cannot know that.”
“But you can know it,” Mrs. Peters said pointedly. “Lord Montague is about to meet with Lord Thornhill. Does that in itself not tell you something about his letter? About his true desires?” She patted Amelia’s hand again and then sat back, her gaze firm. “Listen to what is said and allow the truth of it to enter your heart. Then you will know for certain whether or not Lord Montague has meant what he said to you in his letter. You will have no doubts when it comes to his statement of affections for you.” She smiled as Amelia let out a long breath, her shoulders settling as she realized what Mrs. Peters and Lady Smithton meant. “There is, as Lady Smithton stated, still a modicum of hope. If he proves to be true in his affections and if you can find a forgiveness for him within your heart, then there may be a happy future awaiting you, Lady Amelia. And whilst I do not condone what he did, I know a heart filled with love is more than many a young lady has been able to hope for.”
