by Abigail Agar
“I believe Lady Hartmon set her sights on me right away,” Edmund continued, taking advantage of the silence for a moment. “I believe she chose me because I am a wealthy man with a title, probably just the sort of man that she should be with.”
Mary knew Victoria; she had seen her before, and she hated how much she agreed with Edmund on that statement. She did not really consider herself to be beautiful enough for him, even if he did seem to like her, whereas Lady Hartmon was absolutely stunning. The sort of woman who would look gorgeous on his arm.
They will have the most beautiful children, she thought sadly. Maybe they deserve one another.
“She made a point of following me. I believe that she had a plan. She wanted us to be seen kissing so I would be forced into marrying her. She knew that if we were caught in such a compromising position, it would only be decent of me to make her my wife. She probably knows that I am a good man and that I would do it ...” He took a step closer to Mary but was crushed when she took two steps back from him. Mary was nowhere near ready to forgive him quite yet. “But I did not want to. I was glad when I pushed her off to discover that no one saw us. I thought that I had escaped that fate when I put her straight, and I left. I did not know ...” He sighed loudly and sadly. “I did not know that news of our engagement would cause such a reaction within her.”
Mary felt uncertain. There was a part of her that knew what Edmund was telling her could have been the truth. Victoria and the entire Hartmon family were known for being very ruthless to get what they wanted. It was how they had made such a success of themselves. She also could not deny that there definitely seemed to be something very real between her and Edmund. Something so powerful that she had never felt it before.
But the truth was she did not know Duke Edmund Smith as well as she thought she did. She trusted him too much, and it had not got her anywhere.
“I know that you are capable of it,” she whispered. It was almost difficult for Edmund to hear her; he had to really strain his ears. “We both know that you are capable of acting in a way that is not really decent.”
As Edmund watched Mary slide the ring off her finger, he felt utterly helpless. It was not supposed to go this way; she was supposed to listen to him, to hear his side of the story, and to get things back on track. As long as Mary believed him and did not care what Victoria was saying, then he would not either.
“What are you doing?” he asked her with a crestfallen face.
“I cannot be made a fool of,” she replied harshly. She took a step closer and extended the ring to him. He did not take it right away.
“I do not wish to make a fool out of you,” he insisted. “Please, do not end things like this. It is a shame to turn our backs on something so incredible.”
“I need time to think,” Mary added, finally forcing him to take the item of jewellery off of her. “I do not know what I want, but for now, it is only space.”
“I promise you, I would not do this to you, Mary. I would not do this to anyone, but especially not you.” Edmund could feel his levels of desperation getting higher by the second. “You know me, Mary; you have spent time with me. You have seen me in ways that others do not. Please do not throw this away. Please, do not give Victoria what she wants.”
Mary’s eyes snapped off the floor at that last comment. “Are you telling me that if you cannot marry me, then you will her?” Edmund shook his head vigorously, but unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Mary felt completely and utterly done with the conversation; she wanted to be alone once more. “Because if that is the case, then I suggest you are with her.”
“No, I ...” Edmund did not like the way that comment had been taken, but he could not do anything about it. Mary had left the room, leaving him all by himself in an even deeper pit of despair than he was in before.
He sighed loudly and hung his head in shame. Maybe he should have taken his mother’s advice one step further. Maybe he should have kept away from Mary a little while longer until she had really cooled down ... or he should have at least warned her about his intention to visit. He stared at the engagement ring in his hand wondering how it had all gone so terribly wrong.
I cannot fix this today, he warned himself. Mary is too angry. I must wait and try again. I will write her a letter in the meantime and try to make my feelings for her very clear.
All he knew for certain was that he would not give up. What he and Mary shared was not over yet.
Daisy raced after Mary up the stairs, her heart beating furiously. Mary was crying when she left; something the Duke had done had upset her terribly, and it was up to her friend to pick up the pieces.
When she got into Mary’s bedroom, she was stunned to see the young Lady grabbing items of clothing and throwing them determinedly into a bag that was much too small.
“What are you doing?” she gasped as she surveyed the unexpected scene in front of her.
“I am leaving,” Mary bit back. “I need to get to a place where he cannot find me. I have a feeling that Duke Smith does not intend to leave me alone until I agree to marry him again, which I do not intend to do.”
Daisy was not as relieved as she thought she would be to hear that statement, not when Mary was acting in such a way. “Where will you go?”
Mary did not even miss a beat; she knew exactly where she intended to be, with the one person that could protect her and that she could protect back. “I will be with my sister,” she said with an air of nonchalance. “Until I see fit to return.”
Chapter 17
Mary stirred under the sheets, discomfort floating through her system as something did not feel right. She was not sure where the odd sensation had come from, so she had to really prepare herself before she opened her eyes. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, and she could feel her breaths coming out sharp and ragged as a weird snake of panic curled itself in her stomach ...
Where am I?
The first thought that burst into Mary’s brain was that the room was not recognisable. The odd pastel pinks and floral patterns that surrounded her were not anything that she would have chosen. This was not her bedroom at all.
Right, of course. I am in Charlotte’s home.
The memory of leaving her own home in a rushed, emotional state because she wanted to get away from Edmund flooded her mind. At the time, she felt utterly determined that she was doing the right thing, but as time slipped past her, she was not so sure. Maybe that was why after almost two weeks she still did not recognise where she was when she first woke up.
There was something about Charlotte’s home that felt very uncomfortable. Mary had noticed it on her first few visits, but as she was only there for a short period, it did not flash up as a real problem to her. Now it was all that she could think about. Charlotte’s husband, Lord Jones, did not seem keen on having Mary there, that was apparent right away, but it seemed to be more than that. There was a tension in their marriage that seemed very unnatural to Mary.
With a deep sigh, Mary swung her legs to the ground and leaned her head in her hands. Using her palms to rub the sleep out of her eyes, she felt distressed and desperately unhappy. This was not the plan at all. She was supposed to be happy right now; things were supposed to be working out. The mess with the inheritance should have been sorted, and she should be working slowly towards her wedding day. She should not be here, worrying about where her future lay.
On the dressing table in the spare bedroom that Mary was sleeping in sat a stack of letters that Walter had sent her. He desperately wanted to meet with her; there was a lot that needed to be sorted, but she could not face it right now. She needed to be in the right frame of mind before she talked to him, and she also needed to know what she wanted to do for sure.
I cannot sit here all day, Mary tried to encourage herself to move. Much as I do not have anything to do today, I cannot sit in bed.
As if to confirm that point, a light knocking sound on the door made Mary snap her eyes up towards it. She lea
pt up and straightened her nightdress before calling out, “Who is it?”
She thought it would be her sister, but instead of getting an answer, the bedroom door swung open, and Mary saw one of the maids standing on the other side. She did not know the staff at Charlotte’s home, and there seemed to be a real division between the staff and the family in the house. None of the maids ever met Mary’s eye, which she thought was a real shame. When she considered the friendship that she had with Daisy, she knew it was a missed opportunity.
Maybe if Charlotte made friends with the people who worked in her home, she would not be so sad.
“I have been sent to help get you dressed,” the maid said with a curtsy. “Lady Jones has requested that I come to help you get ready for breakfast.”
On her first day in Charlotte’s home, Mary tried her best to refuse help. She was used to it in her own home with the staff members that she had been around since she was a young child. It felt strange to show skin around strangers, but it seemed that refusal was not an option. Now, as uncomfortable as it felt, she had to accept it.
“Thank you,” she replied graciously. “I appreciate it.”
As the maid brought in a bowl of water, Mary started to pull her nightdress off. Her pale skin shone in the early morning sun, but it was not warm enough for her not to shiver. The maid dipped a flannel into the water, and she brushed it lightly over Mary’s skin. Mary glanced down at the girl, wanting desperately to break down the barriers in this household.
Maybe that is what I can do while I am here, she thought. Maybe I can make things better for my sister.
“What is your name?” she asked the maid in a soft, kind voice. “If you do not mind me asking.”
The maid raised her eyebrow at Mary and offered her a half smile. Her expression was a little twisted showing her confusion. “My name is Jennifer.”
Her voice was stiff and stilted. It was almost as if she did not know how to speak to someone of a different class. Mary found it very sad, and it made her miss Daisy even more. She had not really acknowledged how easy it was to talk to her friend until now.
“Oh, well my name is Mary. Please feel free to call me that if you like. I am not the Lady of this house after all.” Jennifer smiled but did not say anything. She focused her attention solely on washing Mary, which gave Mary more time to continue talking. “Do you like working here?” Of course, she was not going to get an answer to that one. “I suppose it is just different to me. It is not like my own home.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I wonder how Charlotte got used to it.”
Mary got lost in her thoughts for a moment, remembering what their childhood was like. She supposed it was always a little quiet and awkward too, but it did not ever feel so uncomfortable.
“Do you know what you wish to wear today, Lady Roberts?” Jennifer asked, completely bypassing the opportunity to call her Mary. “I can help you with that.”
“Oh, right, I do not know.” Mary felt too distracted to pick out what she wanted to wear. “Any of my dresses, I do not mind.”
Jennifer stepped back, not wanting to make that decision for Mary. She knew nothing about the finer dresses that Ladies wore, so there was no way she could choose for Mary. Mary could see her hesitation which she found a little frustrating, but she kept her emotions inside. She was supposed to be building a connection with Jennifer, not creating distance.
“This one shall be fine.”
Mary lost herself in her thoughts while Jennifer helped her to pull on her undergarments and then her dress. She barely even thought about her naked body for long enough to get embarrassed anymore. She was lost in her musings about her situation and her sisters.
She wished yet again that her father could still be here. Even if neither of the girls trusted his decision any longer, Mary knew that he could have helped them get out of this mess before it consumed them whole. He would never have left them both scared for what the future held.
Maybe her mother would have been a great help too. Maybe she would have been even better. Mary had never heard much about her because even mentioning her always upset her father and sister, but the snippets she had learned suggested that her mother was a fiery woman who did not take any nonsense.
Charlotte and I could have done with inheriting that gene, she thought sadly. This would all be sorted by now if we had.
“You are ready,” Jennifer said with a smile. “Your sister is waiting for you in the dining room.”
“Thank you,” Mary told her with a searching look. “I really appreciate it, Jennifer.”
She wished that Jennifer would tell her that she could always speak to her, just as Daisy once had, but she did not. She bobbed into another curtsy, keeping the professional distance between them.
I guess I am not going to get that friendship here; I should just accept that.
***
Charlotte did not dare to lift her head off the ground until her husband finally left the room. She felt tight and stressed whenever she was around him, but to her, life felt much better at the moment because her sister was around. Lord Jones had to keep his temper in check in front of others, and it also gave her someone to speak to.
“Shall ...” She opened her mouth, just about to ask her sister if she wanted to take a walk with her when the booming voice of her husband interrupted her.
“Charlotte,” he yelled, the anger repressed but still evident. “Can I have a word with you, please?”
Mary widened her eyes in surprise. She had been made to feel uncomfortable by Lord Jones before, but she had never heard such venom in his voice. Judging by the way Charlotte’s shoulders hunched over and her face paled even more, this was not good news. She wished that there was something she could do to help out her sister, but of course, she could not. This was not her house, and Lord Jones was in charge.
“I ... I am just coming,” Charlotte replied with a shaky voice. “One second please.”
Her chair scraped back, and she automatically ran her hands down her skirts. The nerves rolled off of her in waves, making Mary feel sick to her stomach. That sensation only grew worse when Charlotte scurried from the room and raised voices immediately followed.
Mary’s eyes bounced from staff member to staff member until she found Jennifer. The girl was not her friend, but she was the only person she had spoken to. Jennifer did not look surprised by the shouting, which suggested it was something that happened all the time.
Does Lord Jones know that Charlotte is having a baby? Mary asked herself, noting that Charlotte had never mentioned her husband’s reaction to the news. Would he yell at her like this if he knew?
Pressure built up in Mary. It started in her toes and worked its way up her body. She felt icy cold, but her boiling hot blood was racing through her veins, making her shiver violently. She hated sitting in her seat; it felt unnatural. She wanted to take action, to do something, but she could not think of anything that would not make it worse. It seemed to be a very delicate situation that she simply did not understand.
Just as she felt herself rising from her seat, Charlotte came back around the corner with red rims around her eyes. “Let us take a walk in the gardens,” she commanded her sister. “I feel like I would like some fresh air.”
“Oh ... yes, of course.” Mary pushed herself into a standing position. “Whatever you like.”
Mary slid her arm through Charlotte’s, and she allowed herself to be pulled into the grounds of the Jones’ household. Her brain span desperately, and she dug deep into it to find the right words, but there was nothing there. It was not until the cool, fresh air washed over her that she felt her tongue loosen.
“I think we should get away from here,” she whispered, almost silently. “Me and you. We should escape.”
Charlotte twisted her neck to give her sister a surprised look. She was not expecting Mary to address the argument at all; it was normal for others to ignore things like that, but as she saw her sister’s face, she realised that Mary was
trying to give her a moment of escapism. A hope that she might actually be able to get away from her horrible life.
It would not happen; both girls knew that, but it was nice to imagine it all the same.
“Oh yes,” Charlotte replied with a smile. “I think we should. You and I should take off; we should get a home of our own, and we should raise this baby, the two of us.”
"We could go to the countryside, maybe even live by the ocean,” Mary continued with the fantasy. “We could even live on a farm and be totally self-sufficient. Who says that you need a man in your life to survive?” Actually, the idea of never having a husband was more appealing than she thought it would be. “I believe that we could do just fine on our own.”
It started off as a joke, but the more that Charlotte thought about it, the more she liked the idea. If she did leave, she knew she would have to go very far so that Lord Jones would never find her, which would make things very challenging, but if she somehow found a way, it would be absolutely wonderful. Of course, Lord Jones was not the sort of man to let things go easily, especially not his young wife, so it was almost impossible ... but now that the idea was there in her mind, she did not think that she would be able to let it go.
