by Jane Lark
Even after her father had seen her speaking with Drew, he’d assumed Drew had approached her. He’d chastised her and warned her to cut Drew, repeating all the reasons why Lord Framlington was unsuitable.
He’d not for one moment considered she would choose to speak to Drew.
Heat had burned her cheeks as she’d listened and declared he’d done nothing wrong.
She knew Drew. Her father did not.
He’d be disappointed with her when he found her gone, and her mother would be distressed and her aunts and uncles and cousins – and John – would all judge her badly.
Tears filled her eyes as she finished the note but she would not change her mind. She had not seen Drew for over a week but he’d written, passing her letters through the stable lad. He’d said he’d not attended entertainments to stop her father suspecting.
She desperately wanted to see Drew. Her thoughts constantly hovered on him.
Folding the letter, she sealed it.
Her heart raced. The emotional pendulum inside her swinging from expectation and excitement to guilt.
This would tear a rift in her family.
She even felt guilty for feeling happy.
She loved her family, desperately. She did not want to hurt them, but she was old enough to make her own choices. They would not allow her to marry Drew. This was the only way.
Mary left the letter on her desk, rose and walked to the window. She looked down on the street. Life carried on as normal, people hurried past and carriages rolled over the cobbles, the sound of the horses’ iron hooves ringing on stone, seeping through the glass.
It would be the same in five days when she had gone.
The world would not change – but her life would change.
She’d have a new home.
He’d said they’d live in his rooms until he received her dowry and then he would look for a property out of town.
She’d start a family with Drew.
Her arms folded over her chest and her vision clouded, then a tear escaped on to her lashes and ran down her cheek.
She was happy, it was just that so much would change.
She sighed wondering how his family would receive her. She had not even known he had a sister until the other night. Would they like her? The butterflies took flight in her stomach. She unfolded her arms and wiped away the tear.
A knock struck the door of her room, she’d left it ajar.
Mary turned to the desk and stood before it, to hide the letter. “Come in.”
A maid entered, she bobbed a curtsy, then rose, “Miss Marlow, Lady Marlow asked if you would come down to the sitting room. Lady Barrington and Lady Wiltshire have called.”
Two of Mary’s aunts.
Mary nodded.
As the maid left, Mary turned to the desk. There would be no going back once she’d sent the letter. Drew would make the arrangements and in five days’ time she’d leave her family and her home.
Her heart pounding, Mary reached for her shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders then concealed the letter beneath.
She took it to the stables before going to her mother.
* * *
Drew opened the door of his apartment and his gaze dropped to a letter lying at his feet. It must have been pushed beneath the door. He bent and picked it up.
Mary.
The stable boy must have delivered it.
Drew had spent the day with his friends, sparring in a boxing club, then they’d eaten luncheon at Whites, before going on to Tattersall’s to look at horses.
The letter could have been lying here for hours.
He lifted his hat from his head and tossed it onto the cabinet by the door. Then broke the seal on the letter and read it as he walked across the room.
His heart thumped. My parents are going away. A chill swept over his skin even though the day was warm.
They’d be gone for two days and two nights – plenty of time to get her away and irreversibly change the course of both their lives. After that long in his company, her family would have to approve the match.
I have told my parents I will stay with Miss Smithfield, but I shall not go there, and Emily knows that. So you may send a carriage to collect me. I shall say it is from Mr Smithfield, and then we can leave in the morning, when my parents and John leave. Emily has promised me she will not say a word to anyone…
It was perfect. Her plan could not have come together better.
He folded the letter and slipped it into his inside pocket, his heart still beating hard, and a smile pulling at one corner of his lips.
His gaze caught on the pile of bills lying on the cabinet beside his hat. They would be paid soon. No more borrowing from his friends and dodging the duns. He would have money…and he would have Mary.
* * *
“Papa, I love you,” Mary hugged her father as they stood in the hall.
Their luggage had been loaded on the four carriages standing before the house. One for John and Kate, their son and her eldest sisters. Mama and Papa were to travel in the second, with the boys and her youngest sisters, and the senior servants were to travel in the third.
The fourth was an unmarked hackney carriage Drew had sent.
This was her final goodbye, although her family did not know it.
Tears filled her eyes as her father held her. “We will only be gone two days, sweetheart.”
When she pulled away her tears clouded his reassuring smile.
He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. She accepted it and dabbed at her tears, but her tears did not cease.
“Are you upset over Lord Farquhar? There will be other men, and one who is right for you.”
She shook her head.
She’d not tried to convince them they were wrong about Lord Farquhar, it seemed easier to let them think her odd behaviour linked to that. “I am being silly, Papa. I’ll miss you that is all. Robbie and Harry spend months at a time away at college and here I am crying over two days.”
He hugged her firmly again. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder.
What if he despised her when he found out she’d lied?
Guilt cutting at her heart she drew away and kissed his cheek. He kissed hers too.
She turned to her mother.
Her mother’s eyes shimmered with tears also, as though she knew this was really goodbye.
Mary embraced her.
“I know you’re sad about Lord Farquhar but time will ease the pain, you’ll see, be patient. You are young. There will be other men.…”
“I know.” Mary wiped her nose with her father’s handkerchief. Her mother’s palms framed Mary’s face. Mary looked down, unable to hold her gaze.
“Sweetheart, one day you will be happy and settled, with your own family to care for.”
Noise came from the stairs, the voices of Mary’s younger siblings. She and her mother looked up, her mother’s hands slipped away.
The children’s governess appeared at the top of the stairs with a nursery maid who carried Mary’s youngest sister.
The children were all excited.
“Mary.”
Mary turned as John walked into the hall from the library.
“I’m sorry you’re not joining us.” He gave her a considerate smile.
She smiled too. John had been her hero from birth, despite his starchiness as he’d grown older.
She hugged him.
He’d be disgusted with her.
When she pulled away, she smiled brightly. “I’m sure you don’t care a jot whether I am there or not, you have Paul and Kate to absorb what time you have to spare.”
He laughed. “But Katherine does not chastise me as much as you do. You keep my feet firmly on the ground.”
“John!” His gaze lifted to the stairs, to Kate, his eyes glowing with adoration.
Mary hoped one day Drew would look at her like that.
John’s gaze returned to her. “Be careful, Mary.”
“Goodbye, Joh
n.”
When Kate reached the hall, Mary said goodbye to her, numbness setting in. Then in a daze she said farewell to her brothers and sisters before they were herded into the street to climb into the carriages.
Her father offered his arm. She took it.
When she stepped into the warm sunlight, her heartbeat raced.
She wished her eldest brothers, Robbie and Harry, had been at home too, so she could say goodbye, especially Robbie, the next in age to her. Robbie would never forgive her for keeping him in the dark.
What if her mother and father refused to let her into their home again?
That awful thought hit her as her foot touched the pavement.
She clung to her father’s arm.
He walked her to the carriage Drew had sent, while the footmen helped her brothers and sisters up into their carriages and John helped Kate with Paul.
What will I do if they never speak to me again?
“Mary.” Her father took her hand as they reached the carriage. “Are you sure you would not prefer to come with us? I’m sure Miss Smithfield would not—”
“No, Papa, I cannot let her down.” It had become too easy to lie.
Love shone in his eyes, but it became clouded by the tears in hers.
She hugged him, then rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek, before saying, “I’ll miss you.”
“And I you, but we shall see you in two days.”
She nodded.
His hand gripped hers tightly as she climbed up into the carriage.
When she sat, her hands settled over her reticule in her lap. Shaking. The metal lock securing the door clicked shut.
As she held her father’s gaze through the window her heart jolted into a rapid rhythm.
This was it.
No going back.
She lifted her hand and waved as her carriage lurched into motion, the first to leave, leaving them behind.
Her father lifted his hand. Her mother and her elder sisters waved. Kate and John were looking the wrong way, but at the last moment John turned and lifted his hand. Then they were all out of sight, unless she leaned forward to look back. She did not.
Her heart pounded and tears spilled from her eyes as a sob left her throat.
This was too hard.
She wiped her eyes with her father’s handkerchief, and then curled her fingers about it.
The horses pace picked up to a trot and the carriage turned into a side street. She could hear the strike, strike pattern of their stride.
Her heart thundered as the distance between herself and her family grew.
When the carriage finally drew to a halt in St James, she looked from the window but she could not see Drew. The vehicle rocked as the driver climbed down, and her heart raced anew. Clutching at her dress she prepared to get out as the driver came to the door to set down the carriage step.
What if Drew was not here? But when the door opened she saw him move forward, smiling broadly.
Her stomach flipped, warmth flooding from her heart. She smiled reaching a hand out to him, but he did not take it, instead he gripped her waist, and lifted her from the step.
Once she was on the ground he gave her a hearty kiss.
Her nervousness erupted as a laugh when he pulled away.
It was done. The tears in her eyes became tears of joy. They would be married.
His hazel eyes danced with shifting colours of emotion as he gripped her hand, then he lifted it. His fingers had closed about the hand which bore her father’s handkerchief. “You have been crying?”
“I’m sorry. I love my family, Drew. I will miss them…”
This was not the jubilation he’d pictured. Drew wished her joyful. But the girl was attached to her family, he knew it. The ability to love was one of the qualities he’d picked her for, so he could hardly chastise her for it. Yet it clawed into his skin, that she may love her family more than him. He wished to always be higher in her regard than her family. He could not bear to be second best to her, when she would be everything to him.
He took the handkerchief from her fingers. “You’ll not need this now.”
He saw uncertainty suddenly restrain her smile.
“We’re taking my phaeton.” He looked from her to the driver, and handed the man the other half of his payment.
The driver had left her bag on the pavement. Drew picked it up. This was it.
He looked back at Mary. Her lower lip had caught between her teeth.
Damn… He hoped she was not having second thoughts. “This is your chance to speak up if you have changed your mind?” Why the hell had he asked her that? He did not wish her to withdraw, it would rip him apart if she did. But perhaps it was better he had, at least then he’d know the truth and not forever wonder.
Her pale blue eyes shone, beautiful, even in the shadow of the narrow brim of her straw bonnet.
The bonnet had a large lavender bow tied at one side of her chin and her light spencer matched the shade of the ribbon, while her dress was a muslin three shades lighter.
She made his heart ache.
Her lip slipped from between her teeth and she smiled. “I have not changed my mind. I want to be your wife.”
His free hand cupped her jaw. “Good, because, I want you for my wife.”
She lifted to her toes and pressed a kiss on his lips. It was placation. It annoyed him, that she’d seen his weakness. He did not like it. He did not wish her to know he was a weak scarred man within. But no matter, as long as she did not change her mind.
He gripped her hand and led her to his phaeton, nodding at the groom who held the horses’ heads. The man was from the mews where Drew stabled his horses.
Drew handed her up. The tall racing curricle was not designed with a lady’s ascent in mind, and he saw a flash of a narrow stocking clad ankle as she climbed the steps. He would soon see it in the flesh.
When she sat, he looked up, a surge of need, to protect her, rushing in his blood. She had become his responsibility.
His heart thumped as he walked about the carriage.
He set her bag under the seat, then climbed up.
She held the carriage’s frame with one hand and the other gripped her reticule.
Drew picked up the reins and the groom let the horses go on Drew’s nod.
Drew flicked the reins.
He’d told the stables he’d be gone a couple of days and he’d borrowed money from Peter for the journey. He planned to take the main routes and ensure they were noticed at the toll gates, so Marlow could find them.
A smile pulled at his lips, he had her, and soon he’d no longer need to fear the duns taking his horses.
Mary didn’t speak.
He didn’t either. He had no idea what to say to her.
He concentrated on driving.
The sounds of tack, hoof beats and the roll of steel-rimmed wheels absorbed his thoughts. He’d lived in London for so long, and before that in cities abroad, these sounds were like a mother’s heartbeat to an infant in the womb.
When they reached the outskirts, the traffic thinned, then they progressed into open countryside and the world expanded to distant horizons.
The only sound now was that of his carriage and horses, as they rocked and rolled along the track, the carriage springs creaking and the horses’ hooves thudding on the dry mud track.
Drew raised the horses pace to a canter with a flick of the reins. He felt good.
“Do you like the countryside?” Mary asked, making drawing room conversation.
“I was a boy once, boys love trees to climb and rivers to swim or fish in. I loved the countryside then, but now I am a town gentleman I’m afraid. I cannot even recall the last time I left town.”
“My parents have taken my brothers and sisters to Pembroke Place to enjoy the park. It’s John’s estate. It’s not far from London. The children get so bored in town. I like London when we are here, I enjoy the season, but I prefer to be at home. My father’s estate is in Ber
kshire. It’s peaceful there.”
He’d looked at the road as she spoke, yet he didn’t need to see her face to know she was wistful and thinking of the things she’d left behind.
He felt awkward with her now. Clumsy. He could not speak of families. He could not imagine the things she was thinking. He didn’t say anything.
“Where is your family’s home?”
He glanced at her, a bitter smile catching his lips. He did not wish to speak of his family, but he answered none the less. “Shropshire, just south of Shrewsbury.”
He looked back at the road.
“And your parents are there?”
He did not look at her this time. “Yes, they are there. My eldest brother lives with them. I do not visit.”
“You don’t?”
“No darling, so do not expect to go there. It was a lifetime ago that I promised myself I would never go back and said to hell with them.”
Silence.
He glanced at her. She was looking at him. “Believe me, you do not wish to know them.”
He faced the road again, avoiding the questions in her eyes. Of course she would not understand a family like his, any more than he understood her past.
“Do your parents always bring the whole family to town?” He only spoke to crack the ice that had formed over their conversation.
“Yes, always. They cannot abide leaving any of us behind. We used to stay at Uncle Robert’s and that was bedlam because he has a large family too. We would all run riot all season. But since grandfather died and the title passed to John we stay with John.”
“Is he happy about that?” He glanced at her again, genuinely surprised Pembroke took the children in. Drew could not imagine Pembroke abiding noisy children, he was so stiff-upper-lipped.
She smiled, but not at him, she was thinking about her brother. “When he came home from Egypt, I think he was a little irritated by us all. But now he has Paul he plays as rough with the boys as Papa does, they are always play fighting.”
Drew could not imagine it, not of Pembroke, or even her father for that matter. He’d never known a man play with children. When he and his brothers had fought, it had been for real and there had been bloody noses, black eyes, and bruised knuckles. The outcome had been a beating with a cane and several days’ isolation in a locked room with bread and water for his pains.
