by Fanny Walsh
“Perhaps we should have gone home and packed some things,” Mary said, grateful to have something else on her mind other than Duncan.
“Fret not, milady,” Susan said reassuringly. “First thing in the morning, I can take the carriage home and pack some things for us, if you wish.”
Mary smiled at Susan, glad for her companionship.
“Thank you, Susan. That would be wonderful.”
Susan smiled warmly again, nodding.
Despite the late hour, it was her cousin John who greeted the carriage as it arrived. When John saw it was Mary, he rushed inside and called for his uncle and brother. In moments, her other cousin had joined his brother, and her uncle came bolting out the door.
“Mary, my dear. What on earth brings you here so late?”
Mary reached for her uncle and began to cry again.
“John, Samuel, have the servants fetch some wine. Mary, dear, come inside and tell me what is wrong.”
Mary let her uncle guide her into the house, praying that she had been right to come.
Once inside, her uncle fetched her a shawl and sat her down in front of the fire in the drawing room. He handed her a glass of wine and a handkerchief and sat across from her on a worn, straight-backed chair. He gave her a few moments to gather herself before speaking again.
“What has happened, dear?” he asked softly.
Mary sniffled, dabbing at her face with the handkerchief. She took a deep breath and a long sip of the wine.
“It is Duncan,” she said, her breath voice catching.
“Has he harmed you?” her uncle asked, his voice rising.
“No, Uncle, it is not that,” she said, hoping to calm him before his temper rose.
“Did he choose another bride?” Kent asked.
Mary began to cry again. Her uncle moved from his chair into the seat beside Mary. She tried to compose herself so she could speak clearly.
“It seems that the reason he sought my hand in marriage is because his father gave him an ultimatum,” she said at last.
“What sort of ultimatum?” her uncle asked suspiciously.
Mary had to stop and take another breath. Her uncle patted her hand and she took another sip of wine before continuing.
“It seems that he must find a bride within a specific amount of time, or his father will name another heir,” she said.
“The cad,” her uncle thundered. Mary flinched at his voice, and he calmed himself at once.
“Forgive me, my dear. I am just furious that he would hurt you so,” he said, his voice again gentle.
“It is alright,” Mary whispered. “I know you warned me, and I should have listened—”
“It is true, I knew something was not right with him,” her uncle said. “But I was a bit overbearing in my feelings about him, and about finding you a good husband. Part of the blame is mine, I fear.” Kent looked at his niece sadly.
Mary shook her head.
“You only wanted what was best for me. That is all you have ever wanted. Can you forgive me for being so stubborn and foolish?” her voice cracked as she spoke, and she had to swallow the fresh sobs that threatened to escape from her throat.
“Of course, my dear,” her uncle said kindly.
Mary smiled, relieved that her uncle had not turned her away.
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then Kent spoke again.
“How did you come to hear of this ultimatum?” he asked.
Mary’s lip quivered.
“I went to his office this evening, to speak to him about fixing my leg before the wedding,” she began.
The memory of the conversation she had overheard was still very clear in her mind, and she willed herself not to cry.
“But when I arrived, his father was there, and they were speaking in Duncan’s office. I heard—” she trailed off, more tears slipping down her cheeks, despite her efforts to remain composed.
Her uncle caressed her cheek.
“Hush now,” he said. “You need not say anything more.”
Mary nodded, feeling more love for her uncle than she ever had.
Her uncle patted her hand again, then called for his servants.
“Prepare my niece a room for the night,” he said when they entered the room. Then he looked at Mary.
“Where is your luggage?” he asked.
“Susan will return to my home to fetch it in the morning,” she said.
Kent nodded, satisfied. Then he rose, taking Mary’s near-empty glass and pouring them both another drink.
He reclaimed his seat, looking intensely thoughtful.
“Do not fret, my dear,” he said after a few moments. “You can stay here as long as you wish. And we shall certainly find you a suitable husband more deserving of you.”
Mary looked at her uncle in surprise. The last thing she could possibly consider just then was another prospect of marriage. However, she was too tired and too upset to protest.
“Samuel and John would both make an acceptable alternative for you,” he said. Mary winced. She might have known that her uncle would use this as the perfect excuse to offer up his sons to her again.
Mary sighed, thinking carefully before she spoke. After everything her uncle had done for her, and after he had not faulted her for going against his advice, the last thing she wanted to do was anger him.
Her uncle seemed to sense the added distress. He touched her gently on the shoulder and smiled.
“There is no need to trouble yourself with such thoughts just now,” he said.
Mary detected something in his eyes that she could not read. She thought it must be determination to get her to see that one of his sons would be the best choice for a husband for her. “Just promise me that you will consider the idea, my dear.”
At last, Mary smiled.
“I promise, Uncle. I will give it some thought,” she said.
Her uncle beamed. She breathed a sigh of relief, having pacified her uncle for the time being.
“For tonight, however, you should get some rest. You have had a very trying day,” Kent said, rising to escort Mary to her room.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she said, relieved to have an excuse to let the conversation rest for the moment.
When they reached Mary’s room, Mary called for Susan to help her undress. When she was finished, Mary dismissed Susan and eased herself onto the bed.
Mary saw there was a fresh bottle of wine on the table beside the bed, and she helped herself to another small glass. She hoped she had made the right decision by coming to her uncle.
Exhausted and her head swimming from the wine, she at last settled into bed. She drifted off almost immediately, and…
She is falling. This time, instead of the windows hanging in the clouds, she can see buildings.
She falls past her old family home, and she can see her parents and brother, covered in flames, their arms flailing wildly, and their faces twisted into soundless screams.
Then, she sees her home, her bedroom balcony, with a shadowy figure standing over her, dangling from the balcony by her neck. She tries to take a breath to scream, but the only sound that comes from her throat is a stifled groan.
She notices that, while she is still falling, she has slowed so that she is almost floating. She sees her father’s business office surrounded by a group of men.
As she floats closer, she recognizes the men as those whose marriage proposals she has rejected this Season. As she floats closer, she can see that they are holding flaming torches and bricks.
They laugh as they throw the bricks through the windows and toss torches through the shattered glass. She tries desperately to cease her freefall and stop them, but only succeeds in making herself begin falling faster again.
The last house she passes is her uncle’s home. In the front lawn, her uncle stands, flanked by her two cousins, and two men she does not recognize.
Instead of reaching to catch her,
however, her uncle is holding up his hands, gesturing at each of his sons, smiling. Her cousins are smiling, also, waving to her as she falls.
The two strange men are not smiling. They are standing with their hands folded, with two pairs of the coldest eyes she has ever seen.
Mary looks down and sees that the ground below is black as night. She panics, fearing that there is, in fact, no ground, but a dark abyss that will swallow her whole when she reaches it.
Then, she sees Duncan. He has his back to her, holding something she cannot identify.
Suddenly, she realizes that she has hit the ground. The impact caused no pain, but she is disoriented, surrounded by the blackness she witnessed from above.
Fear seizes her and she realizes that, although uninjured, she cannot move. Duncan still has not turned to face her, but she glimpses his face from the side, and he looks frightened.
Despite her anger with him, she tries to call out to him, but her mouth will not open.
Then, she feels herself being lifted roughly from the ground, and she finds her paralysis releasing her from its grip.
Before she can turn her head to see who is lifting her, she is spun around gruffly, and brought face to face with… Theodore. He is holding something shiny in his hand, and…
Mary awoke in a cold sweat.
Chapter 28
Duncan sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He briefly considered writing Mary yet another letter, but he knew deep down that she likely had not read any of the previous ones he had sent.
He was as worried about her wellbeing as he was desperate to talk with her and straighten out everything, but he had not so much as accidentally bumped into her in town. He had even closed his clinic for a few days so he could keep an eye out for any sign of her, to no avail.
After much debate and fretting, at last Duncan came to a decision. He was determined to find and talk to Mary. With a deep breath, he called for his butler and ordered him to begin preparing a coach. As he waited, he tidied his clothes and selected a fresh coat.
He rushed down the stairs just as his butler came in to tell him that the carriage was ready for departure. He gave his butler a quick nod of thanks as he bounded out the door. He leaped into the awaiting carriage and ordered the driver to get to Mary’s home as quickly.
As the carriage rushed along, Duncan mentally rehearsed what he intended to say to Mary. He knew that she was strong-willed, so he needed to know exactly what he would say in advance.
He also silently prayed that she would be there, if only so he could see for himself that she was alright.
After what felt like an age, the carriage turned into the long driveway leading up to Mary’s estate. Duncan’s heart began to race, and he took several deep breaths to steady his nerves.
As the carriage came to a stop in front of the door, Duncan jumped out and strode toward the front door.
He grabbed hold of the large knocker in the center of the door and gave it three firm knocks. Within seconds, Mary’s butler pulled open the door.
“Milord,” the butler said warily, bowing.
“Good day,” Duncan said.
“Are you looking for Lady Linden?” the butler asked slowly.
“Indeed, I am,” Duncan said, swallowing the urge to tell the man that he knew damn well he was looking for Mary.
“My apologies, milord. The lady is away,” the butler said.
“When is she expected to return?” Duncan asked. He knew that asking where she had gone was futile, but perhaps he could come back later in the evening and catch her when she came home.
“She did not say when to expect her,” the butler said.
Duncan’s face fell. He did not know if the butler was withholding information, or if Mary had instructed him to answer thusly, but he was still no closer to rectifying the situation with her.
As the butler eyed Duncan’s dejected expression, his face softened.
“She left with her luggage prepared,” the man offered.
Duncan nodded, puzzled as to where Mary might have gone with luggage. Then, his face lit up with realization. There was likely only one place she would go to.
“Thank you,” Duncan said sincerely.
The butler bowed.
“Of course, milord,” he said.
Duncan returned the bow before quickly boarding the carriage, ordering the driver to take him home. He now knew that Mary must be at her uncle’s estate, but he felt great unease at the idea of showing up there and attempting to see Mary.
At the very least, it was likely that it would cause a dramatic scene, and undue stress to Mary. At least now he knew that she was safe and unharmed.
However, he knew that she must still be distraught over what she had heard Duncan’s father say in his office. That would be causing her a great deal of stress, as well. He wrestled the desire to seek her out at her uncle’s home, until his courage found him at last.
“Driver,” Duncan called sharply. “To Mr. Hillington’s estate at once.”
The carriage stopped promptly and changed course, heading directly for the Hillington mansion.
A cold dread settled in Duncan’s stomach as the carriage approached Kent Hillington’s estate. Even in the remaining daylight, it looked uninviting and forbidden.
However, Duncan felt a bit more encouraged when he saw that Mary’s carriage was, indeed, sitting in front of Hillington’s house. He took another steadying breath and prepared to exit the carriage.
Duncan approached the door to the foreboding mansion with more hesitation than he had to Mary’s home. He was still filled with much self-doubt, and for a moment he wondered if he had made the wrong choice.
Since he had come this far, however, he would press on. He hoped again that his visit would not further upset Mary. That was the last thing he wanted.
As he had at Mary’s home, Duncan knocked on the door. He waited for several long moments, expecting to see a servant open the door at any second. When none did, he knocked a second time.
Several more minutes passed, and Duncan was preparing to knock a third time, more loudly, when at last the door did fly open, and he found himself standing almost nose to nose with Kent Hillington himself.
“And just who do you think you are, showing your face here on my property?” Hillington bellowed.
Fresh courage filled Duncan at the man’s insolence.
“I am here to see Mary,” Duncan said.
“What makes you believe she is here?” Kent asked, giving Duncan a smug smile.
“Do not play games with me, Hillington. That is her carriage sitting just over there,” Duncan said, pointing behind him.
At this, the man’s face reddened. He grunted something inaudible, apparently irate at not having been successful at lying to Duncan.
“Surely, you are not foolish enough to believe that she would wish to see you,” Kent said with a scoff.
“I believe that, once she hears what I have to say, she might change her mind on that,” Duncan said.
“There is no one in this household who wishes to hear anything you have to say, you cad,” Kent said.
“Do you not think that Mary should be the judge of that?” Duncan retorted.
“Now, see here,” Kent said. “This is my house, my property, and I want you to leave at once.”
“Not until I get to speak to Mary,” Duncan said.
“Give it up, Winstanley,” Kent said, scowling. “She has seen you for what you really are; what we have all known you to be from the beginning. And, now that Mary has seen the truth, she does not wish to see or speak to you ever again.”
“Mary deserves an explanation, and I intend to see that she gets it,” Duncan hissed, refusing to back down from the man’s harsh stare.
“There is nothing to explain, Winstanley,” Kent said. “You are a liar, a sham, and a fool, and now Mary, like I, knows it.”
“You do not know any of what you believe you know,” Duncan said.
“What I d
o know is this. You will leave this place this instant, and you will not return, or I shall see you rotting in prison for a great many years,” Kent said.
His gloating expression had returned, and Duncan cursed silently. He knew that Kent was as good as his word, at least in this instance, and he knew he was beaten. Still, Duncan stared at him for a few moments more before taking a step back.
