by Abby Ayles
He nodded. “I am afraid so. You may be willing and able to go back on your word to me, but I cannot go back on my word to myself. You are, as you said, a child at heart. You made that vow now knowing what it meant to you. I made it knowing full well what I was doing.”
“But you said all you wanted was to make me happy,” she countered, wiping some more tears away.
He lifted his hand and stroked a lingering tear off her cheek. “I do. But not like that. Until you are an adult woman, who can handle herself, I cannot be with you.”
“Then just go,” she said quietly, sitting down on a tree stump and looking out over the garden.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked. “Are you asking me to... leave?”
“I am,” she replied bluntly, sniffling slightly. “I am not a woman. I need someone to look after me. And if you will not, I do not see what you are doing here.”
“I am making sure you come to no harm,” he replied. “I do not like seeing you out here, alone and sad, in the cold. Please, come back inside.”
“What do you care if I am alone and sad and cold? I am not yours, remember?” She felt the tears trying to start again.
“Does that mean I am not allowed to show any concern for you?” he asked. “Can I not have some sympathy for you?”
“No. Leave me and go back to the wedding, with the happy people,” she insisted.
“You know, you are right,” he said, his voice taking on an angry tone. “You really are a child. I cannot believe I was taking you seriously.”
His words felt like knives cutting through her heart. But, as she had done for so many suitors before, she sat motionless and silent, waiting for him to leave in a fit of rage.
“You are being ridiculous,” he said.
She heard the rustle of his shoes through the grass as he walked back up the slope, towards the church. She wanted to turn around and look, see if he was looking back at her. But she did not. She kept her eyes locked on the bottom of the garden.
Lucy sighed. She could see the graveyard out beyond the gardens. That was the end, whoever you were, whatever you did. All that counted was doing the right thing in life. And the right thing was to become a nun.
Being with a man she could not marry would hurt her parents, and put her at risk, not to mention be a grave sin. And marrying a man she could not trust or love would condemn them both to a miserable life. She could not become like the men she resented so much. She could not go around breaking hearts and ruining lives left and right.
With a heavy sigh, she stood up. The garden was empty once again. She began to walk back up towards the church.
The wedding had lost all of its life and colour to her eyes. It was not her world. It was not what she was going to experience. She still felt glad that Thomas and Julia were able to experience such joy together. Good for them. Just because she could never be truly happy did not mean nobody else deserved to be.
She slipped through the cheerful crowd towards the great figure of Jesus, the only Lord who truly mattered. His faded painted colours disappeared into the background compared to the bright flowers and white ribbons. But He was still there. He was always there, watching over everything they did.
She sat down in front of the great figure and looked up at Him. He had suffered in His life. Far, far more than she was suffering. He had suffered for her sins and she, so ungratefully, had continued to sin regardless. There were so many people out there, suffering more than her, and living good, pious lives. She could bear her pains and resist temptation. She could become a nun, not because it was what she wanted, but because it was the right thing to do.
She needed to stay away from the men who had influenced her so poorly, who had led her astray. She needed to focus only on faith, until she was healed of her own sinful nature. Perhaps then she would find true happiness.
No, the right thing to do would be to make amends with Andrew. She had been just as guilty as he was, and they needed to forgive one another to move on. It was in a lack of forgiveness that pain was born. Was that not one of Jesus Christ's most poignant teachings? Was that not what the Our Father said? “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
If her sin was to be forgiven, then she needed to show forgiveness to Lord Jones. If she did not, then she could leave pain behind her, just as Duke Perry, Lord Jones, and Prince Ferdinand had left pain behind them. She needed to move beyond that.
She needed to find Andrew, to forgive him for what he had done to her, to ask him to forgive her. They needed to part ways as friends, not as enemies.
Returning to the wedding party, she looked up and down for him, but he had already gone, it seemed. She swerved among the remaining guests, looking at every man, but not finding his face anywhere. But she could not give up. She needed to make this right. She needed to save him from a life of sin and pain like she had been living.
Perhaps someone else would know where he was. But all around her were unfamiliar faces, no doubt from Julia's extended family and many friends. She could not approach a stranger and ask after a man they probably did not even know. She needed to find a mutual friend.
Lucy finally found Antoinette. Her friend was talking with Julia, and Mary. But it was too late to talk to them. None of them were any use to Lucy now. She had made up her mind. She just needed to find Lord Jones, that was all.
Lucy marched over to the group swiftly. “Have you seen Lord Jones?” she asked before her friend could even speak. “I have something important to tell him.”
Antoinette paused. “I saw him earlier. I think he left, though...” she replied.
“Oh, I saw him go with Clara Neal,” Mary added.
Chapter 24
Lucy could feel her blood boiling slightly. But no, she needed to give him the benefit of doubt. After all, she was chasing after him, not for any sinful or carnal purpose, but for the sake of resolution. Perhaps he and Clara also had some matters to resolve, some wounds to heal, a conclusion to reach. She could not jump to conclusions.
And she could not use this as an excuse to run away. No, she needed to find him and talk to him. Even if he was acting improperly, two wrongs would not make a right. She still needed her own resolution, even if he never found his.
She knew her mother would not approve of what she was going to do. She needed to borrow a coach. She seized Antoinette's hand and took her aside.
“I am going to need to take your coach,” she said quietly.
“To Lord Jones's house?” Antoinette asked.
Lucy nodded. “Yes. And please do not tell my mother where I am.”
Antoinette shook her head. “I am not sure if that is a good idea...”
“It is not for anything inappropriate,” Lucy reassured her. “I simply wish to ask him to forgive me for my behaviour until now.”
“And it is nothing to do with the fact he left in the company of Clara Neal?” Antoinette asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Nothing whatsoever,” Lucy confirmed.
“Just... do not do anything you will regret later,” Antoinette insisted. “And return before your mother discovers you are gone. Or else we will all be in trouble.
Lucy hugged her friend closely. “Thank you so much. I will be an hour at most. I just need to have a word with him,” she explained.
Antoinette hugged her tightly. “Are you sure you do not want anyone to come with you?” she asked.
“No, I need you here to keep my mother from discovering where I have gone,” Lucy replied.
“Take care then,” Antoinette said, “and make sure to stay safe.”
Lucy felt her chest and stomach tight with anxiety as she rushed from the church to the coach Antoinette had called out for her. If her mother caught her she would be in a great deal of trouble. But nobody even noticed her leave, it seemed, and soon she was arriving at her destination.
Lord Jones's house was as quiet as always. Unlike many of the other houses Antoinette visited, this one lacked a
ny feminine influence whatsoever, and as such it had a simple, low-maintenance quality which did not require the usual bustling servant activity.
And yet it felt a little... too quiet. More quiet than usual. Perhaps he was not even in...
She asked the coach to wait by the gates and walked on her own up to the door. There was no bell, and no knocker. Lucy knocked with her bare knuckles as hard as she could and waited for someone to answer. Nothing.
She knocked again, remembering she had seen no coach outside. Perhaps he was at Clara Neal's house? She felt a pang of jealousy. She knew she did not need to. She was not his. He was not hers. What difference would it make if he spent all day with Clara Neal? The two of them could live forever in a nest of sin, for all the difference it would make to Lucy's life. But she could not help but feel pain at the thought.
Giving up, she turned around and decided to make her way back to the wedding. It was better than standing there, imagining Andrew and Clara embracing one another in bed. As she walked back down the path, she heard the door open behind her. She turned around. It was Lord Jones himself.
“Lucy?” he said, his voice sounding as eager and excited as a schoolboy with a new toy.
She smiled and began walking back up the path. She felt sorry to see him so excited and happy. She shook her head. “Do not look so happy, this is a purely formal visit,” she said.
He nodded, but still smiled, as though he were just glad to be in her presence again. “I am terribly sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he closed the door behind her. “The staff had the day off because they did not expect me to return. Feel free to leave your coat and bonnet on the dresser.”
She wondered whether she should just say what she needed to say then and there. But no... that would be too cold, would it not? She slipped out of her coat, took off her bonnet, and placed them neatly on the dresser by the door, before following Lord Jones through to his front room.
Normally he seemed so calm, so cold, with a slight hint of vulnerability behind it all. But now... Now it was all out in the open. And it made her feel bad for rejecting him. It made her feel bad for breaking his heart. But she was going to put things to rights now. Perhaps it would not make him feel any better. But at least it would give him the opportunity to not descend into hatred.
She sat down on the sofa and looked around. “I heard that you left with Clara Neal,” she said.
Lord Jones froze briefly, a little startled, but then nodded. “I did.” He moved in beside her and sat down, their thighs touching.
“I was just wondering why,” she said, trying to ignore his leg against hers. “Especially considering everything you said about her, about how much you loathe her. How much she hurt you.”
“We had some things to discuss, that is all.” She could detect some nervousness in his voice. Something was not right.
“Such as?” she asked.
“It is personal. But I just wanted to make sure that some of the... some of the remaining bad feelings we had for one another were addressed. That we could put our troubles behind us and perhaps someday be friends again,” he explained. He placed his hand on hers softly.
Lucy sighed slightly in relief and nodded. “I understand that. It is somewhat like what I wish to talk to you about, actually,” she added. She turned her hand around beneath his and clasped his strong fingers between her dainty ones.
“And what would that be?” Lord Jones asked.
“I would like us to forgive one another. For everything we have done. For encouraging one another to hate those we once loved. For tempting one another, and for acting on temptation,” she explained, squeezing his hand.
“So you did not mean to hurt me like you did back at the church?” he asked.
Lucy smiled softly. “No, I do not mean to insult or hurt you. And you are right. If I need someone to take care of me, it is foolish to expect that person to be you.”
“And, for what it is worth, I did not mean to hurt you either with what I said. I should control my emotions, and I should not attack your choices. You are doing what is right by you, and by your family. And that is no business of mine,” he replied, leaning in so his face was a little closer to hers.
She nodded. “So... I forgive you for everything that I have done for you, and hope we can remain friends, or else part ways on good terms.” She turned her face up towards him. She chastised herself. What was she doing? They were just having this very conversation! And yet here she was, leaning in to lock lips with him again.
He bowed his head further, his mouth millimetres from hers as he began to speak again, his warm breath tickling her lips.
“And I—” But he could not finish. His words were interrupted by the sound of a door slamming in the house.
“I thought there was nobody here?” Lucy asked with a start.
“There is not meant to be,” Lord Jones replied, glancing in the direction the sound had come from.
There was a loud clatter, like someone emptying a box of cutlery onto the floor, followed by a rustling and then a groaning of furniture being moved. It was coming from down the hallway.
“I need to see to that, perhaps the maid is back and we can get a cup of tea before she gets started on the dusting,” he said.
Lucy nodded. “That is a most excellent idea,” she said, “I am thirsty and a cup of tea would be just perfect.” She released his hand, feeling suddenly nervous at what she had been about to do. Or, better said, to do again.
“Very well, just wait here, I shall return immediately,” Lord Jones said, standing up and making his way out the door.
Lucy could detect a certain hastiness in the way he moved, a slight nervousness in his voice... And she had never known any maid to make such noises when cleaning. So who was it that he was going to find down the hall?
Curiosity was eating away at her. She knew it was wrong, but she crept up to the open door. Peering out, she saw Lord Jones literally running down the stone floor, towards a door which had a bright light shining underneath it. He stopped by the door and knocked. He fidgeted and knocked again. There was a click which echoed down the hall as the door was unlocked. Lord Jones opened the door and let himself into the room.
Lucy did not see anyone else, but she knew this was not quite right. This was not how a man behaved around his servant. No... he was up to no good. And he knew exactly who it was in that room. She had a pretty good idea herself...
He had left the other door slightly ajar. Lucy could hear two voices talking animatedly, but she could not quite make out what they were saying. She quietly stepped out of the front room and into the hallway and began to carefully creep towards the open door, listening for the voices. Suddenly they stopped. She wondered if perhaps someone was about to emerge from the room. Freezing on the spot, she waited for something, anything, to happen. But the silence remained. And she began creeping towards the room again.
As she approached the door, she heard a muffled moan. Two muffled moans. Two voices. A man and a woman, both mumbling and moaning softly like animals in heat. She knew what was the right thing to do. The right thing to do was return to the front room and wait for him to return. To pretend she had heard nothing at all.
But no, she could not keep doing that. She needed to see. She needed to catch him. She needed to confront him. To confront them. With a determined step, she marched up to the door and shoved it open.
Lucy knew what she would see. But it still brought tears to her eyes. Lord Jones was sitting on top of a dressing table in what looked like a guest room. A lady's coat, shawl, and bonnet were on the unmade bed. The candles burned brightly, and the room smelled of perfume and roses. And in front of Lord Jones, her lips on his neck, his fist clenched in her hair, was Clara Neal.
Lord Jones had frozen at the sound of the door opening, and slowly turned his head to face the doorway. He locked eyes with Lucy through the open door. Suddenly he pushed Clara back, causing her to exclaim angrily at him. Then she looked up, noticing L
ucy, gasped and blushed, stepping away from the desk.
Lucy lifted her hand and quickly rubbed away her tears. She could not afford to show weakness in front of them. Especially not at a time like this.
“I thought you said she was at her home?” Lucy asked.
He shook his head. “Well... I.... I did not want to hurt you.”
“How could it hurt me?” she asked. “What do I care who you decide to commit indecencies with?”
“It is not what... I can explain,” he said.
“No, you cannot,” she replied. “I know what I am seeing, there is nothing to explain. Nothing to justify. No more than anyone would need to explain why the sun rises in the morning.”
Lord Jones shook his head again. “Lucy, please, just listen for once in your life!”
“To be honest, I am not too bothered by what you choose to do with Clara. What sins you would commit together. I just cannot believe you would be such a... filthy hypocrite,” Lucy said.
He put his head to one side. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked.
“All you said about hating her, avoiding her, all those remarks about Prince Ferdinand and I... And yet look at you. I expected better of you,” she said indignantly.
“What do you mean better?” Clara interrupted angrily. “I am the best woman he will ever so much as touch.”
Lucy glared at Clara. “No, you are not the best anything. You are just as much of a hypocrite as he is. So much for being able to lust after men without laying with them. So much about being happy with your fiancé. I suppose I need to assume from now on that everyone is doing the very things they condemn.”
“Well... it was a moment of passion, really,” Clara began. “Just this once...”
“No, I saw you back at the ball too. That is why I left. Because I was disgusted. Because I wanted Andrew for myself,” she said coldly.
“You.... you did?” Lord Jones asked. His face flushed hot red, his voice rang with hope.
Lucy nodded, tears welling up in her eyes again. “Of course I did. That is why I am unable to marry. That is why I wanted to kiss you back at the church. That is why it hurts me so much to see you and Clara together.”
