by Joyce Alec
“This situation would have been so much different had you asked me to marry me only because you loved me…” she whispered.
“It would have been the exact same, Harriette, because you agreed to it,” he answered. “If it matters at all, I am sorry to have caused you so much strife. When I had decided to ask you, I…” he sighed heavily, looking back out over the river, “I had never thought that it would end like this. My reasoning seemed sound, but now that we are here, in the moment I…”
He looked at her earnestly.
“I regret that I ever thought of it.”
He took her hand hesitantly and squeezed it. “If you do choose me, I will make it right. I promise. We will make our way to the chapel in Kingsfield tomorrow morning, and we can then make it home from there,” he said earnestly.
She took a step back from him. “I…I need some time to think,” she replied rather coldly, and before he could say anything, she turned and made her way back through the streets to the inn.
It had grown dark as they stood there on the bridge, and as she walked, she felt the first drops of rain begin to fall. The lamplights in the streets had been lit, and she wasted no time returning to the tavern and making her way to her room.
It was a simple space, with a small, comfortable bed, a window overlooking the town square, and a desk beneath the window.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her head feeling as if it was filled with bees. She couldn’t focus; she couldn’t understand. Her mind kept going back and forth between compassion and rage, understanding and utter sorrow. She had cared for Charles for many years, and part of her just wanted to ignore everything he had just said to her and marry him. She knew that they would be happy, of course. He had acknowledged the same fact. Things might be difficult at first when they return home, but she had anticipated that, even before his revelation. And she had been prepared to deal with it, because she would have been with the man she really cared about.
On the other hand, betrayal simmered just beneath the surface, and she felt as if she had never despised a person more than she despised him in that moment. He had to have known that it was not just his life that he was putting in danger when he asked her to marry him. He had to have known that this would utterly change her life from now on, no matter what choice she made. He had put her in jeopardy, and while she realized that he felt remorse for it, she was angry at his lack of tact and understanding of how things worked in society.
She cradled her head in her hands, feeling completely at a loss. What would happen if she went home? What would happen if she continued on to marry him, knowing that the whole reason he wanted to was a lie?
Why couldn’t marriage be a simple choice? Making a decision and acting on it, embracing the passion and the romance and just being together? Why did all of the formality follow it?
Because it is extremely important, she realized. Because she’d have to spend the rest of her life with the person that she chose. It is not a small decision; it is not something to be taken lightly. She couldn’t change her mind.
She thought of Lord Henry, of what he would say if she were with him. He would comfort her and protect her, and in that moment, she felt as if she needed some of that.
She rose and walked to her desk, a single thought gripping her as she did; she had to write a letter to Lord Henry, telling him what had just occurred, and what their plans were.
She was not sure if she could keep her hands steady enough in order to write, but she knew she had to try. The parchment that she laid on the desk appeared intimidating as she looked down at it. While she attempted to form the words she wanted to say in her mind, she fumbled with the ink bottle stopper.
Left with nothing to do but actually write the letter, she sighed, and wondered wildly how she should begin.
In the end, as the noises from down in the tavern had started to die down, she decided to keep the letter as simple as she could. She could explain it all later. She didn't know if she had the heart to explain it all again. That would require that she relive it, and she wasn't sure she could.
He had told her that he would make it right with her. She was at a loss. Her reputation, something she had worked tirelessly to maintain since she was young, had now been tarnished beyond repair. The only way that she, and no doubt her family, could be spared the utmost ridicule and disgrace, would be if some man stepped up and married her almost immediately before anyone discovered she had been gone.
And who on earth would take her now?
She realized that Charles had been right; how could she prove that she had not been spoiled in any way? Charles had done nothing to harm her in any way, but that didn't mean that anyone would believe them, especially potential suitors. No one would want to marry the girl who had run away with the common boy.
She steeled herself and looked down at the parchment.
Dear Lord Henry,
I hope this letter finds you soon. Mr. Barnes and I are staying the night at another inn in a little town that I have never been to before, farther east than Fair Haven.
He told me that he never wanted to marry me because he loved me. He -
She stopped for a moment, preventing herself from saying "He only wished to marry me because his father was jealous of my family and our wealth." That was not a kind thing to say, and not entirely the truth either. She may have been angry, but she was still a respectable woman.
He has not been unkind, but it certainly seems as if he, nor I, had thought this through entirely.
She sighed heavily. She hated admitting it, but she had to share the blame. Charles had been right again. She had agreed to go with him. She had every chance to say no to him, and instead, she allowed her romantic ideals to run away with her.
We are not wed yet, but he told me that we are to travel to Kingsfield tomorrow. He promised me that he would ensure we were married in order to prevent any further harm to my reputation.
She felt the tears well in her eyes as she dipped her quill back into the ink.
Lord Henry, I do not know what I should do. My entire life has been put into jeopardy. I am in no harm physically, of course, but who would take me now? I have made the choice, whether I was readily aware of the consequences or not.
If I marry Mr. Barnes, at least I can swallow my choice with pride, despite the reaction it will surely draw from those in my family's social circles. I grieve for the trouble it will cause my parents, but at least it will have been my own choice. And I think I could be happy with Mr. Barnes.
If I do not marry him, then I would return home to ridicule and my father's wrath. Not only would he be furious with me, but I do fear what he might do to Mr. Barnes. I'm sure it has been most unpleasant being near him as of late, and for that, I do apologize. It is my fault, after all.
She blotted away a tear that had fallen onto the parchment, partially smearing the last word she had written.
Please keep me in your prayers. My heart is heavy with guilt. And please give my love to my parents when you see them. They will know my decision sooner or later.
With all my love, Harriette.
She rose from her seat after she had addressed and sealed the envelope and made her way down to the tavern. She hoped that the owner was still awake so she could get the letter to Lord Henry as soon as possible.
There was not a soul downstairs, and she realized it must have been very late indeed. She feared running into Charles, but she relaxed when she didn't see his familiar blonde hair anywhere. She had wondered if he would have waited up for her.
But she didn't see the owner either. Discouraged, she looked about as quietly as she could. She heard the door to the kitchens open, and a tall, thin man with a balding head with spectacles walked out. He seemed startled when he looked up at and saw her.
"Oh, good evening, Miss," he said, wiping his glasses on his apron. "I thought everyone had gone to sleep."
She held out the letter. "I have a letter that needs to be shipped as soon as po
ssible, sir," she said rather plainly. She had almost no strength left. Her bed upstairs seemed too far away.
The man blinked and cleared his throat. "At this hour, my lady?"
"It is urgent, sir," she said, a little more forcefully. She knew that her name held no weight out here, but that didn't mean that she couldn't try to use some of the things she had learned from her mother and father. "It is a matter that is very sensitive and could have catastrophic effects."
The man licked his lips and swallowed. He wiped his glasses off once more, as if he had forgotten he had just done so.
"Well, all right," the man said, turning back toward the kitchens.
Relaxing, she made to turn around back toward the stairs up, but she stopped when the man said, "Miss?"
"Yes?" she replied.
"You're here with that young man, yes? About this high, sandy-colored hair?"
She felt a weight in her chest. "I am."
He looked around, even though there was no one else in the room. "He came back in not long ago. He seemed right upset. He asked for a bite to eat when he came in. Looked as if he had been kicked while he was down. Is he all right?"
She felt her chest tighten. "He's fine," she replied, more coldly than she would have liked. "He's just realizing that perhaps he has allowed his adventurous spirit to go a bit too far."
And with that, she turned away, and made her way back up to her room, all alone, feeling downright ashamed and infuriated all at the same time. She collapsed onto her bed and cried until sleep overwhelmed her and she could cry no longer.
8
The Long Road
Sleep had not found Lord Henry for the last three nights. He wished he could sleep, for then at least, for a few hours, he could escape this nightmare that he felt trapped inside.
But he knew that his wishes were fickle; if he were to sleep, surely he would see nothing but her face.
He and Lord Terra took shifts beside the front door, hoping above all hope, that something or someone would appear on the long drive up to the Pangborn estate. Madam Stewart had been so sure that they would see her soon that it had been all that was keeping them all from losing their very minds.
It was his turn that evening, and the air outside was frigid and oppressively dark. The moon and the stars were obscured by clouds that had threatened rain all day. He continually held the lantern beside his feet aloft, hoping to banish some of the shadows that frightened him more than he cared to admit.
Dawn could not be far off, he realized. Though the hours were long, he found nothing that helped pass the time any faster. Books could not hold his attention, and no one wished to converse for very long, for what was there to discuss? They all knew eventually that Lady Harriette would come up, and they could not bear to speak of her when she was already so much in their thoughts.
Her brother was having the hardest time of all. He paced up and down the halls every minute of the day, his fingers stroking his chin, hoping that some sort of inspiration would strike and allow him to solve all of their problems and questions.
Nothing had struck him yet.
Lord Henry pulled the cloak he wore more closely around his shoulders. He could see his breath hanging in the air around him, white puffs, like the steam from a train. His fingers closed reflexively on the letter from Lady Harriette.
I am afraid.
He sighed heavily, feeling once more the grip on his heart that made him feel sick. He hoped against all hope that she wasn’t afraid, and that she was safe. How could anyone stand feeling this way? How could any person live with this kind of pain, the unanswered questions, the feeling of desperate loss?
That was when he heard it; there was a crunch on the drive further along, and immediately he rose to his feet, holding the lantern aloft. He hardly dared breath.
Could it be possible…that Lady Harriette…
Had she returned?
He began to walk toward the sound, and before he knew it, he was running down the drive to meet the source of the sound, for it was indeed a carriage, the wheels, and hooves growing louder as he drew closer.
The horse whinnied as he approached, and the carriage came to a stop. Lord Henry dashed to the little window and peered inside. He did not recognize the man inside, and his heart fell to his feet.
Gasping for breath, he flung open the door.
The man inside stared bewildered at him, his eyes wide.
“Is there, by any chance, a Lord Henry here?” the man asked feebly, after a moment or two had passed, his eyes searching Lord Henry’s face.
“There is!” he said. “I am Lord Henry!”
The man pulled a letter from inside his jacket, glanced at it once, and passed it to Lord Henry.
It took every ounce of discipline that he had not to rip it from the man’s grasp. Immediately, he recognized the swooping writing of Lady Harriette, and he cheered out loud.
“My apologies, my good man!” Lord Henry said, feeling lightheaded with joy. “This letter has been long awaited. I did not mean to frighten you.”
“It’s quite all right, lad,” the man said, a small smile pulling the corner of his mouth. “It was made clear to me that this letter was urgent. I got it here as soon as I possibly could.”
Lord Henry could have hugged the man, but he simply shook his hand vigorously. “Thank you, thank you. Here,” he said, pulling some bank notes from inside his jacket. “Please, take these as a gesture of gratitude from the family.”
The man seemed taken aback. “Oh, my lord, this is far too much—”
“Nonsense,” Lord Henry said. “You have no idea the relief that you have delivered in this small letter! Thank you again!”
He could not wait any longer; he turned from the carriage after he waved to the man once more, and started back up the drive. He saw a low hanging branch in a nearby tree, which he hung the lantern so he could open the letter.
Quickly he scanned her words, hungrily reading it. Looking for something, anything, to tell him what was happening.
He nearly collapsed against the tree. They weren’t married yet, and she was not sure that she wanted to. He was relieved to know that she had not been compromised in any way. The weight and the agony that had been hanging over him swiftly lifted.
Kingsfield.
That was not far; if he left now, he could be there by afternoon tomorrow on horseback. It had been some time since he had gone anywhere by horseback, but he would have walked if it meant finding Lady Harriette.
He stopped as he was hurrying up the hill back toward the manor. He chewed the inside of his lip. Should he wake up the rest of the family? It would be the right thing to do, but the impatient part of himself reminded him quite loudly that it was a massive waste of time.
If I go on my own, they can wake to good news. They’ll have the knowledge that I am going to be there not long after they read the letter. It can give me them peace to know that the situation is being resolved.
He nodded his head and began to hurry up the hill once more.
He knew that Lord Pangborn would most likely be angry that he had not been informed immediately, but Lord Henry knew that every moment he was not on his way to her was time lost.
If he could still reach her before they wed…
…but who would take me now?
He could see her asking the question, her eyes wide and doleful, her cheeks fair, her lips like a poppy.
How could she be so foolish? How could she think that no one would take her? He knew the truth; he knew her. Surely, she must not think that she would be rejected the way she had written about.
He tore inside the house and dashed down the hall to the study where Lord Terra kept his studying materials. He rummaged around in the dark for an ink bottle and quill.
It was respectable that she wished to follow through with her choice to protect herself and her family, he realized. That took great courage, and it was not something that he himself could have done. She had grown much, he knew, admi
tting that she had made a mistake and choosing to live with the consequences, instead of running from them.
But his heart hoped against all hope that she would not choose Charles, and instead come home. They could still smooth out the mess.
He spilled some of the ink on the parchment in his excitement to scrawl a note down to the family as quickly as possible.
She is in Kingsfield. I received a letter from her around half past four this morning, he noted, glancing at the clock up against the wall. I am on my way to her. I apologize for not alerting you, but I assumed it would be better for someone to be on their way to her as soon as possible. I will send word as soon as I have met up with her.
With that, he hurried back down the hall, and glancing around wildly for a place to leave the letter, decided that on the table just inside the door would be as good a place as any.
He wasted no time saddling a horse from the stable. He knew that Lord Pangborn would understand, and that Lord Terra would have encouraged such rash actions in order to assure the return of his sister. It was Lady Harriette’s favorite horse, he realized as he galloped out onto the drive.
The first rays of sunlight were coming through the trees, causing the inky black sky to look more blue, and the stars were visible now.
Oh, Lord God, please protect her until I can get there. Give my heart peace, and give her strength.
The hours passed slowly, and he wondered if Lord Pangborn had discovered the letter yet. He assumed they had, as Mr. Walters would have seen it, waking earlier than the rest of the family. He wondered if they would be angry with him for leaving so suddenly. The guilt weighed him down, but he knew that their anger would be gone if he discovered her.
He rode and rode, only stopping once or twice to allow the horse to drink and give him something to eat. The horse must have sensed his urgency, for he did not fight and buck as he normally did when he was tired. Lord Henry promised him over and over that he would receive a bushel of carrots in reward for his service.
He was an hour from Kingsfield when he noticed something very strange. There was a young girl up ahead on the street, her maroon traveling cloak pulled up over her head. She was walking as if she had been travelling for miles.
