by Joyce Alec
His logic seemed sound, and certainly he had a reason and answer for every question she had asked him, and they all made sense.
“That would just be a poor decision, and eventually lead to a predictable mistake, no matter what way you look at it.”
There was little left in her mind to doubt him, and she felt an enormous relief wash over herself.
“Do you promise me that you didn’t write this letter?” she asked quietly, pointing to it.
Lord Pembrooke looked at her, and then he turned his whole body to face her, taking her face in his hands. He tilted her chin up towards him so she could not look away.
“I swear on my very life that I did not write that letter.”
There was nothing but honesty in his eyes, she realized, and she lost all of her strength. Her knees gave way, and she was thankful that he was already holding her, for she collapsed into his waiting arms.
The guilt and the grief of the day resurged, and she cried into his shoulder as he held onto her.
How could she have been such a fool? How could she have really believed that he would have wronged her? Perhaps the idea was so great and so terrible that her fears had made something out of nothing and she allowed herself to be carried away by it.
“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," she kept saying, unable to contain the rush of emotions washing over her. She felt so ashamed of herself and her ability to doubt him so easily.
“It’s all right,” he said, stroking her long hair which had come loose from its plait. “Don’t worry, it’s okay now…” he whispered.
They stood like that for a long time as they allowed the distance between themselves to lessen, the distance that she had created. She allowed him to love on her and whisper things in her ears to help her feel better.
I do not deserve a love such as this, she thought. He has already forgiven me for ripping him to pieces. How must he have felt to be on the receiving end of my actions?
The moon was no longer visible through the windows when she calmed down, and they made proper amends.
“I’m sorry I ever thought that you could do that to me,” she said, hoping that he knew just how much she meant with those words.
He smiled and nodded. “It is quite all right. I would have been just as frightened had the situation been one I had experienced in your place. I cannot blame you for reacting the way you did.” He leaned closer to her. “In fact, it shows me the depth of your love for me, and how careful I should be in the future.”
She smiled at his teasing and looked into his eyes.
“I’m sorry I went into your room without your permission,” she added.
He hugged her more tightly and kissed the top of her head. “My dear, it is quite all right. You were right after all; it will be yours in just a matter of hours. Tomorrow we will be the Lord and Lady Pembrooke, and nothing could make me happier. There is nothing that I will ever wish to hide from you. Besides, I am glad that you thought to look in a place where I might have forgotten to check.”
“It still was an invasion of your privacy,” she replied into his sleeve.
He pulled away to look at her, smiling. “There is nothing that I wish to keep private from you, my love. I do ask, however, that you and I talk about things before you get so worried next time, all right?”
She nodded, and he brushed another tear from her cheek.
“Now,” he said, untangling his arms from around her and walking back over to the table. “The question that remains is who wrote this letter?”
Henrietta pursed her lips. “I…don’t know. I never gave it a thought that someone else could have written it. But then, why would it be in your room?” she wondered.
His brow furrowed once more, and she was appreciative that it was not because of her this time. “That is what concerns me, love. If someone else wrote it and put it in my room…” he sighed heavily. “It means that there are devious matters at play here.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked.
“Someone went to great lengths to copy my handwriting, almost precisely. Someone created this letter with a purpose, and the only purpose that I can think of is to cause a rift between you and me.”
She gasped. “But why? It very nearly worked!”
He shook his head. “I do not know, but I see no alternate reason. Someone must have planted that letter in my room.”
“How did they know you wouldn’t just find the letter and be done with it?”
“They must have realized it would have bothered me so much that eventually I would have said something to you. And even if you didn’t believe it, it would still cause a problem between us.”
Henrietta sighed heavily. “This all seems very bizarre, especially since it happened right after the jewels went missing.”
Lord Pembrooke’s eyes grew wide. “Henrietta, you may be onto something there.”
She looked at him, the same realization coming upon her. “You don’t think…that the person who wrote the letter –”
“Must be the same person that stole the diamonds, of course!” he answered for her.
“What if the letter was planted as a distraction?” Henrietta asks. “We have been looking so hard for the jewels, perhaps the letters were to throw us off the scent?”
He scratched at his chin. “That would stand within reason,” he replied. “Perhaps they believed we would forget about them if there was a disagreement between us.”
“I could not have cared less about those diamonds earlier today when I found the letter.”
Lord Pembrooke smiled. “I think that perhaps the person who planted the letter did not suspect that you would have discovered the letter. It must have been intended for me to find, and then distract me well enough. Yes, that must be it.”
Henrietta shook her head. “Do you believe the jewels are still in the manor?”
Lord Pembrooke looked as if he were going to answer, and then he exhaled. He smiled at her. “Let’s forget about the jewels. The important thing is that you and I were far too clever for their little trick, and at this point, your love and my marriage to you is far more important than some rocks on a necklace.”
She smiled up at him.
“If they wished to have taken the jewels that badly, then let them have them.”
“What of your father?” Henrietta asked hesitantly.
Lord Pembrooke shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He knows that our marriage is more important. He realized that he overreacted last week about them. He apologized already, and I believe he would agree with me about this, especially after he hears about this letter.”
“Well, if you say so,” Henrietta replied.
He kissed her on her forehead before retreating towards the door. “I must return home. I will see you at the altar, my love.”
“So soon?” she said sadly.
He glanced out the window. “It is quite near midnight. We will be together again soon.” He closed the door before peering inside once more.
“Thank you for not giving up hope,” he said.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she laughed. “Of course my love. Thank you for not losing all hope in me.”
“Never,” he replied, and with another wide grin, he was gone.
Chapter 7
The Wedding
“Do you, Lady Henrietta Boyle, take –”
“No!”
The voice rang out in the full room like the strike of a bell. Henrietta and Lord Pembrooke stood at the front of the room before the minister. She held a bouquet of beautiful roses, and his coat had a single red rose pinned to the front. Her dress was a lovely pale blue, and his coat a deep, rich, burgundy. Never before had they thought the other looked more handsome.
All of the faces, including those of the bride and groom, turned to see Lord William standing to his feet from the second pew, livid color flooding his cheeks. His teeth were clenched, his eyes wild.
“What is the meaning of this?” the minister
asked Lord William.
“I object!” Lord William said loudly, slamming his hands against the pew in front of himself in rage, causing those seated in front of him to nearly jump out of the pew.
“No, I object!” cried another voice. From behind Henrietta, the voice of Lady Mary rang out into the room.
Despair filled Henrietta as she turned to face her friend. “What?” she asked, looking at her.
Lady Mary was breathing heavily, and her cheeks were bright red. She looked as if she might burst at any moment.
“I cannot believe you still decided to marry him,” Lady Mary hissed through her teeth like a snake, her eyes narrow slits, her jaw set tight.
Henrietta could only stare at her.
“This is all your fault!” Lord William hollered, and Henrietta was surprised to see him pointing at Lady Mary.
“My fault?” she shrieked. “It wasn’t my fault that Lord Pembrooke followed after Lady Henrietta the day before last!”
“But it wasn’t my fault that he ended up seeing her that night, now was it?”
“Please, would someone remove these two from the room so we may resume the ceremony?” the minister asked.
A few men from each family rose in their seats and grabbed the two who continued to argue, their cries echoing in the vaulted ceiling.
Lord Pembrooke’s grip tightened around Henrietta’s hand.
“Wait,” he said, just before the two were taken outside. He looked earnestly at Henrietta for a moment, ensuring she was aware of him, and he walked back down the aisle to where the men stood with his brother and Lady Mary.
Lord Pembrooke stared at his brother as if he were staring at a strange who was a criminal.
"What have you done, brother?" he said, his voice curt and quiet, but it carried across the room that was as silent as a tomb.
Lord William was breathing fast and heavily too, looking wildly around the room, not meeting his brother’s gaze, which was unshaking.
Eventually his gaze settled on Henrietta, and she saw a deep sadness written on the creases around his eyes. She saw a shining reflection and realized that he wept.
“Lady Henrietta I…” he began, apparently ignoring the entire rest of the church. “I am absolutely and unashamedly in love with you.”
There were gasps around the room, followed by fervent whispering.
He didn’t seem to hear, and Lord Pembrooke looked just as startled as Henrietta felt.
“I have always loved you, ever since we were children, even before my brother was to marry you. I didn’t even understand what it all meant until we were older, and I realized that no matter how much I wanted to marry you and to be your husband that I never would be able to. There would never be a place in the world where you and I could be together when my brother was in the picture.”
Lord Pembrooke took a step towards his brother, bearing down on him, but Lord William continued before he could speak.
“I had hope once, however, that one summer in Brighton, do you remember it?”
To her surprise, she knew exactly what summer he spoke of. It was much warmer than usual, and her family and his took a trip when she was a young teenager. Lord Pembrooke had fallen quite ill that trip, so she had spent a good portion of the time with his brother, whom she had enjoyed immensely.
“We had the most amazing time. I felt for sure that you must have felt the same way about me at the end of that week as I had felt about you for the entirety of my existence. When we returned home, however, you resumed your relationship with my brother. Yet I hoped, and have hoped all this time, that perhaps that one summer meant as much to as you as much as it did to me, and you simply were going to marry my brother out of duty, and that perhaps, deep down, your heart truly belonged to…me.”
She could only stare at him. She had never, in the entire time she had known Lord William, ever suspected that his relationship with her was more than an amiable friendship. She had never even imagined there to be anything else. She had always enjoyed her time with him, but now…
Lord Pembrooke, the rage evident on his face now, grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Get him out of my sight,” he spat.
“Wait!” Lord William called over his shoulder, his eyes pleading with Henrietta. “Wait, please, I cannot let you go! Not like this! Please! Henrietta, choose me! Choose me, and we can live a long and happy life together!”
The shock of his statement caused Lord Pembrooke to cease his struggle against Lord William and simply stare at him.
There were many in the room who had turned to look up at Henrietta, who still stood at the altar, Lady Charlotte standing beside her, grasping her hand tightly, tears streaming down her gentle face. It was a comfort that one of her friends was still a true friend.
Lord Pembrooke even turned to look up at her, as if waiting for a response. Did he really believe that after all they had been through, after everything that had discussed the night before last, that she would ever back out on him for any reason?
“Lord William,” she began, but even by the tone of her voice he knew, for he scowled and shook his head, looking down. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I apologize if any of my actions ever led you to believe that I felt anything romantic about our relationship. I love your brother, and I always have. I…I’m sorry,” she ended.
Lord Pembrooke smiled tenderly at her, still restraining his brother, and Lord William’s face was blotchy and streaked with tears.
Henrietta looked over at her friend. “And what of you, Lady Mary?”
Lady Mary looked between her and Lord Pembrooke and burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. Her wails echoed around the room, and then came her words.
“I have loved Lord Pembrooke since I met him,” she sobbed. “He was always so kind to me, so generous. No other man has ever treated me the way that he did.” She pulled her hands from her face and pointed angrily up at Henrietta. “You never treated him the way he should have been treated! You took him for granted! He worshipped the ground you walk on and you didn’t even notice!”
She resumed her crying.
Henrietta felt as if she had been bludgeoned in the stomach with a boulder. How in the world could this have happened? Lady Mary was one of her very dearest friends. How could she have turned against her so vehemently?
“How did this happen?” Lord Pembrooke asked.
“We…we were at a ball one night, Lord William and I, and you two, of course,” Lady Mary said between sobs, “And we stood outside, all alone, because the people we wanted to be dancing with were dancing with each other.”
Lord Pembrooke handed his brother to the man who had grabbed him originally. “And?” he asked him, staring down into his face. “Tell me what happened so I can know that I am right in my suspicions.”
Lord William had a hard time breaking eye contact with his brother, but he looked at his feet before continuing. “Lady Mary and I discovered that our desire was the same; in order for us to be with who we loved, you and Lady Henrietta had to be separated.”
There were more murmurs from other guests in the room.
“So we came up with a plan. We decided to steal the diamonds that Lady Henrietta was to wear the day of the wedding.”
Now Lord Crettingham, who had been staring speechless at his two sons, stood to his feet. “You stole the jewels?!” he cried. He crossed the room to his sons. “So not only are you a troublemaker, but you are a thief?” He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Lord William grimaced once more.
“What point was there in stealing the jewels?” Lord Pembrooke asked.
Lord William sneered. “I believed that you would never have married without the jewels,” he began. “I believed if those disappeared that you would take it as a bad omen, or you would suspect each other of stealing the diamonds, and it might tear you apart. And then I would step in and comfort Lady Henrietta from the angry Daniel. And to ensure
I wasn't discovered, I made sure only to take them once you had showed them to all of your friends. I hoped that you would suspect them all before you ever suspected me.”
“Well you were wrong, obviously, about me marrying without the jewels,” Lord Pembrooke said. “And let me ask one more thing. Were you two the ones who planted that fake letter in my room?”
Lady Mary made a strangled whimpering sound.
Henrietta gasped. “You! You were the one who suggested we continue to search the house! And you gave me the idea of searching in Lord Pembrooke’s room!”
Lady Mary hung her head, and Lady Charlotte huffed.
“If she had done her job better, then we wouldn’t be in this mess!” Lord William spat, seething, in Lady Mary’s direction.
Like a viper, her head shot up and she scowled at him. “If you would have copied his handwriting better, then –”
“Enough!” Lord Crettingham cried, and the room went silent. He turned on his younger son, who cowered in fear. “Where are the diamonds now?”
Lord William glanced over at Lady Mary.
Lord Crettingham seemed to take the hint, and rounded on her. “Where are they!”
Without another word, she held out her bag to him, hiding her face away. Lord Crettingham snatched it from her hands, pulled it open, and drew out the gleaming, sparkling diamonds.
There were gasps and cries of pleasure and awe.
Lord Crettingham also found the ring, handed both of them to Lord Pembrooke, and bowed to him.
“These belong to you and to your bride, my son.”
Lord Pembrooke nodded and accepted them.
Lord William scowled at the two of them.
Lord Crettingham turned back to the two miscreants. “This is a holy event, a place where a marriage between two people who love each other and promise to do so for the rest of their lives is supposed to take place. You both will pay for what pain you have caused two innocent people. And trust me, I will ensure that justice is enacted.”
Both Lord William and Lady Mary looked sadly at one another, their struggle at an end.
