by Fanny Walsh
Although she could not relate to Duncan’s strife, she could understand him a bit better. She could not imagine how it must feel to have such an apathetic, obtuse family.
Her parents and brother had loved and supported her unconditionally when they were alive, and she could not imagine ever treating one’s child, no matter what their age, in any other fashion.
Even her uncle had been as loving and supportive as anyone could ever hope a relative to be. Despite his overbearing tendencies, she knew he meant well and only wanted the best for her. And he was searching for answers he could not find, without the support of his father.
Mary was beginning to feel guilty for pressing the matter, watching Duncan’s distress and discomfort. She began to think that, perhaps, if she had had any clue that this was what he was hiding, she might never have asked.
“Forgive me,” Mary said. “I should not have pressed so much for answers just now.”
Duncan sighed. The defeat on his face made Mary’s heart break again.
“You were right. I cannot expect you to marry me if I am hiding things from you,” he said.
Mary was silent for a moment. She had a million more questions, but she now hesitated to continue asking. She hated the idea of upsetting Duncan further.
Duncan was reading her face, seeming to feel guilty for reacting so strongly.
“Please,” he said. “If there is anything more you wish to know, ask.”
Mary’s face paled again, and she glanced down at her lap.
“It is alright,” Duncan added.
Mary stared down at her dress for a moment, debating. At last, she nodded.
“Alright,” she said slowly. “Tell me more about your cousin. What about his gambling troubles you?”
Duncan smirked bitterly.
“Aside from him ruining his own reputation and turning into someone I hardly know?” he asked.
Mary looked at him, confused.
“Theodore and I were close growing up. He was the closest thing I had to a brother, and we were practically inseparable.”
Duncan paused, smiling at the memory. “He was always a little more mischievous than I, but he was not what one would call reckless.” Duncan’s smile faded, and he seemed to slip into deep thought.
Mary waited silently, not wanting to rush what was already a difficult conversation for Duncan.
“What made him change?” she asked at last.
Duncan shook off his daze.
“In truth, with our family’s problems, it is likely a miracle that I did not succumb to a life similar to Theodore,” he said.
Mary nodded her understanding. To Duncan, this must feel a great deal like losing a brother. Mary’s heart ached.
“Have you tried talking to him?” she asked.
Duncan chuckled.
“I try to talk him out of his downward spiraling life each time he comes to me to help him cover a new debt,” he said, bitterness dripping from his words.
Mary gaped. She could not believe that Theodore would treat his closest relative so shamefully.
She resisted the desire to reach for Duncan’s hand. The more he talked, the more Mary wanted to stop him, to change the subject. However, there was one more thing she needed to know.
“What about the madness you mentioned in your family?” she asked hesitantly.
Duncan looked at Mary, his eyes large and shining. To Mary, he looked like a scared young boy, and she felt her own heart surge with grief for him.
Duncan stood perfectly still and silent for what seemed like an hour. Mary was on the verge of telling Duncan to forget her question, and that they could discuss it another time, when at last he spoke.
“It claimed my grandfather first,” Duncan began. His voice was so low and unsteady that Mary had to strain to hear him.
“I was very young then, and I have very few memories of him or his illness. Truthfully, I likely would not have known anything, had it not been for the things I heard from my family growing up.”
Mary looked at Duncan sympathetically, but he did not see. He was staring over her shoulder, his eyes still large as he spoke.
“I am so sorry,” she said.
Duncan’s lips twitched, but his face remained otherwise unchanged.
“My mother was next,” he said, biting his lip. Mary thought she saw tears in his eyes, but Duncan turned his face away quickly.
At this, Mary gasped. She had briefly wondered why he had not mentioned his mother when she had first asked him what he was hiding. Now, more than ever, she desperately wished she had not forced him to traverse this path in his memories.
“Duncan, I am terribly sorry. I--,” Mary began.
Without turning to face her, Duncan waved his hand.
“It is alright,” he said. “It is only right that you should know everything.”
Mary paused for a moment, dread swelling in her stomach.
“Everything?” she asked quietly.
Duncan nodded. Mary now knew he had been crying, because, with his back to her, Duncan wiped his eyes with one hand. He tried to cover it by clearing his throat, but she also heard him sniffle.
She briefly considered offering him her handkerchief but decided against it. She knew he did not want her to know he was crying, so she remained silent.
“My mother was the only person in my family with whom I was ever really close,” Duncan said. “She used to love taking me on picnics at this lovely little flower patch at the back of our land.”
Mary smiled knowingly. She remembered going on picnics with her family as a child, and then occasionally with just her brother as she grew older. Those were some of the happiest memories of her life, so she understood Duncan’s sentiment.
“My father, naturally, never wanted to come along with us,” Duncan continued. “Of course, Mother and I did not mind, because it gave us a chance to enjoy the beauty of nature without his flair for dumping rain on our sunshine.”
This did not surprise Mary. From what Duncan had already said of his father, she would have frankly been shocked if he said the man did enjoy these outings with the rest of his family.
However, she did not voice these thoughts. She instead remained quiet, silently encouraging Duncan to keep talking.
“The day my mother died was sad, to be sure. However, I had lost her long before that, so I had already done much of my grieving before her death.”
“Oh, my,” Mary said. She wanted to say much more to comfort Duncan, but she was at a loss. “How did she die?”
Duncan, now clearly emotional and struggling to maintain even a modicum of composure, cleared his throat and did not speak for several moments.
“She died in the madhouse. Complications of her physical state declining as her madness further claimed her, I understand,” he choked at last.
“Unlike my grandfather, who died rather quickly after the madness took hold of him, my mother suffered for some time before her death. And, being just a young man, there was nothing I could do for her. Her condition inspired me to pursue a career in medicine, but… I was too late.”
Mary stared at Duncan, trying desperately to understand how terrible that must have been for him. She mentally cursed herself for being so useless in soothing Duncan’s pain.
Once again stunned into silence, she waited dumbly for Duncan to continue.
“Please, do not feel sorry for me,” Duncan said with a bitter chuckle. “I do not say all of this to you to gain your pity. I tell you this so that you will understand—” he trailed off.
Mary waited a moment before speaking, trying to keep her own emotion out of her voice. She did deeply pity Duncan, but she did not want him to think that her concern came solely from that pity.
“Understand what?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“The grandfather of whom I speak was my mother’s father, as I am sure you have guessed,” Duncan said. “Which means that the chances that the madness was random are small, and tha
t it is more likely that it is hereditary.”
Mary nodded, understanding beginning to dawn at the edges of her conscious mind.
“You fear that you might succumb to the same madness?” she blurted out. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, furious with herself for being so forward.
“Yes,” Duncan said, sounding a bit relieved that she seemed to understand. “However, that is not my greatest fear.”
Mary sat with her hand still over her mouth, not wishing to allow herself another outburst.
“If I were to marry and bear children, what would become of my family, should the madness claim me, as well? And what of my children?
“What if I were to pass such a curse on to them? How fair would that be to them? What would my poor wife do?” Duncan said, now pacing and rubbing his hands along the sides of his pant legs.
This was by far the most shocking revelation to Mary. Her mind reeled as she tried to imagine how that must make Duncan feel. She tried to grab words of sympathy and kindness from her whirlwind of thoughts, but failed time and again.
Then, Mary realized what it was that Duncan was not saying. She rose from her seat slowly and took a step toward Duncan.
“I am sure that most women would want the option of deciding for themselves if you are worth that risk,” she said softly.
Duncan turned his head as if looking in her direction, but he still kept his face carefully hidden.
“I do not believe that this conversation makes for appropriate ballroom conversation, especially with women I am just meeting,” he said, dejected.
Mary winced, once again cursing herself for her inappropriate remarks. She fumbled quickly in an attempt to recover from her faux paux.
“What I mean is, if a woman is truly interested in you for who you are, and interested in getting to know you outside of the ballroom, perhaps she would be willing to listen to your concerns with sympathy and care, rather than judging you or deeming you an unfit match,” she said.
Duncan laughed aloud this time, but it was dry and cool.
“Can you imagine any of the typical women in polite society deciding to take such a gamble?” he asked. “And, even if they did, who am I to put them in such a position?”
Mary did not miss Duncan’s reference to ‘typical’ women, and she smiled to herself.
“Perhaps you are right,” she said. “However, the right woman would love you unconditionally and completely, and be willing to support you through life, no matter what that brings.”
Duncan ceased his pacing suddenly and turned to face her, his eyes wide in surprise. Mary could now see that he, indeed, had been crying a great deal. His beautiful eyes were rimmed with red and beginning to swell.
She bit her lip and cast her glance downward, so he would not see that her own eyes were again filling with tears.
“Perhaps, if I have already found such a woman, then some of my fears can rest,” he said.
Mary gasped again, realizing the implication of her words. She blushed deeply, turning her back to Duncan so that he would not see.
“However, I am not sure that I could place such a burden on anyone, even a woman who could care for me so,” he said.
Mary dabbed at the corner of her eye, fighting off the tears that threatened to fall. After everything that Duncan had told her, she was gladder than ever that she had accepted his marriage proposal and wanted more still to give him the love and reassurance that he so desperately needed and deserved.
At last, Mary put a hand on Duncan’s shoulder. She was grateful that he was opening up to her so; she had not expected him to be so candid when she had asked her question.
However, his immense stress and sadness weighed on her heart, and she wanted to do anything she could to ease it, if only for a little while.
“Well, now that you know everything, I imagine that you wish to run from me and never return,” Duncan said.
She thought for several moments, searching for something reassuring to say. She was embarrassed at her earlier admission implication, but the very last thing she wanted to do was leave Duncan, especially in such a vulnerable state.
“What can I do to help?” she asked at last.
Duncan looked at her as if he did not understand what she had just said. Mary saw many emotions flit across Duncan’s face, relief and amazement being the prominent two. She smiled warmly at him.
“You have done so much for me,” Mary continued, “and asked for nothing in return. I would like to offer you the same unconditional assistance. Especially if I am to be your wife.”
For the first time that day, Duncan smiled, a true genuine smile. Mary thought she saw years melt off his age right before her eyes, and the man who stood before her then looked barely more than seventeen. At that moment, she felt more affection for him than she ever had.
“You do not know what your compassion and understanding means to me,” Duncan said, his eyes shining.
“It is the very least I can do,” Mary said, squeezing his shoulder. “After all, you were willing to extend a marriage proposal, just to protect my life and keep me safe.”
“Well, that might prevent any more instances of my office being hit by a carriage,” Duncan teased. Mary laughed.
“If I had known that was the reason you made the offer, I would have accepted immediately,” she said.
Duncan laughed heartily.
“If I had known that would grant me your acceptance, I would have mentioned that in my proposal,” he said, his eyes twinkling. Mary put her hand on her cheek and gaped at Duncan in mock horror, and he laughed again.
Mary watched him for a moment, relishing his laughter and the sensation of the previous heavy mood lifting. She found his lingering boyish expression endearing.
“Really, Duncan,” she said. “If there is anything that is within my power to give or do, I would be happy to do it, if it means that I can help you in return.”
“Please, do not feel obligated to repay me,” Duncan said, his smile faltering. Mary’s eyes widened.
“Oh no,” Mary said quickly. “I do not at all feel obligated. I know that everything you have done for me was out of kindness, and not because you sought repayment. Nor would I ever insult your kindness by treating it as a debt that was owed. I only wish to support you in your time of need, as you have done for me.”
Again, Duncan stared at her in wonder. She could not help but wonder whether anyone had ever shown Duncan any similar kindness. If they had not, that made his compassionate and warm nature all the more amazing.
Her heart squeezed at the idea that Duncan had never known the love and compassion that he deserved. She silently resolved to be the person who would give it to him.
After several more moments, Duncan moved toward her again, until he was almost so close that she could feel his body heat. Mary’s heart began to race.
“You have already given me much by accepting my proposal,” he said, his face serious but warm. His eyes burned with intensity. “However, there is one more thing you might do for me,” Duncan said. His eyes shimmered with something Mary had not seen before, and it made her pulse quicken even more.
“Anything at all,” she said, her voice unsteady and her skin tingling from the lack of distance between them.
“What I want more than anything in the world is a kiss from you,” Duncan said.
Mary stared, shocked at the request. Duncan seemed to be full of surprises. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that was the last.
“Oh, Duncan, I—” she began. Duncan silenced her by cupping her cheek in his hand. Despite the suddenness of his request, Mary could not deny the desire she felt to grant it to him.
Duncan hesitated for a moment. When Mary made no move to stop him, he leaned in and gave her a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips.
Mary’s heart was racing. She had never felt so overwhelmed with so many emotions. A part of her knew that this was inappropriate, but a bigger part wished that the moment would
linger forever.
Overcome with all the feelings the kiss embedded in her, she broke away. Without a word, she rushed from the room.
Chapter 22
Duncan watched Mary flee from the room, paralyzed by a plethora of thoughts and emotions.
He could not believe that, when she was trying to be so kind and supportive, his one request had been for a kiss. He knew that was entirely inappropriate, even if they were publicly betrothed.
