Rules to Be Broken

by Bree Wolf

  However, the moment her hand came to rest on the door handle, Diana shrank back as though it had been seared by fire. Again, the night four years ago flashed before her eyes, and she knew she would only be fuelling gossip if she ventured out into the night alone. Who knew what would happen? Her husband would be most displeased.

  And yet, for a split second, Diana was tempted to go nonetheless. Could her life truly become any worse? Didn’t people already gossip, already shun her, already ignore her? What else could they do to her that they weren’t already?

  Resisting the lure of the gardens, Diana stepped away from the doors and instead headed in a safer direction: toward the refreshment table. With her heart still hammering in her chest, she felt parched as though it was sheer exercise to merely be in the same room with London Society. As she reached for a glass of refreshing lemonade, her hand collided with someone else’s and she shrank back. Her head snapped up, and she stared wide-eyed at the young woman before her. How come she hadn’t noticed her before?

  “I’m sorry,” the young woman assured her, a large smile on her face as she gestured for Diana to take the glass. “I guess I was lost in thought.”

  “As was I,” Diana mumbled, wondering why this woman would address her so kindly. Did she not know how she was? Had she not heard the whispers? Had no one warned her not to socialise with Diana?

  An expectant look in her eyes, the young woman then reached for the glass and handed it to Diana. “Here, you seem in need of a refreshment.” As though in trance, Diana accepted the drink. “Have you been dancing a lot? I suppose it must be wonderful to…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes drifted to the side, looking at something or someone beyond the twirling couples.

  Unable to ignore the sadness that had suddenly come to the young woman’s eyes, Diana sighed. She, too, had been young once. And although only a few years had passed since her first Season, Diana felt as though she had lived a lifetime in those years. In fact, she felt like an old woman who looked back upon her youth with wistful melancholy, regretting the turn her life had taken.

  “Are you all right?” Diana asked, wondering if she had sunken too deep into her own misery to not have noticed the pain others suffered.

  The young woman turned back to face her, a reluctant smile drawing up the corners of her mouth. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” Then she drew in a deep breath, and a touch of determination came to her features. “My name is Eleanor Abbott. I’m Lord Stanhope’s sister.”

  Diana drew in a sharp breath. Clearly, Lady Eleanor did not know who she was, and once she did, her kind smile would surely die faster than Diana could mumble an apology. “I’m Mrs. Reynold, Diana Reignold,” she finally said, watching Lady Eleanor’s face with rapt attention.

  Strangely enough, the smile on the young woman’s face stayed where it was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Reignold. Is your husband here with you?”

  “He is,” Diana answered still as though in trance. “However, he prefers the gambling table to the dance floor.”

  “But surely he has danced with you at least once, has he not?” Lady Eleanor asked, a jesting tone to her voice as she reached for another glass of lemonade and took a sip.

  “He has not,” Diana admitted, feeling a sudden but desperate desire to keep their conversation going…by any means necessary if need be. “To be frank, I do not mind. He is an awful dancer.”

  Lady Eleanor laughed, and once more her eyes shifted to the other side of the room.

  “Is there someone special you wished would dance with you?” Diana asked, wondering if everybody was in love but her…or at least happily in love.

  Lady Eleanor sighed, and a slight blush came to her cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

  Diana nodded, feeling her heart go out to the young woman who seemed saddened despite the obvious fact that her hear almost overflowed with love. “Does he not return your feelings?”

  Again, Lady Eleanor’s mouth curved upward and the blush on her cheeks deepened. “I do believe he does.” Then she nodded her head as though needing to convince herself. “No, I know he does.”

  Diana frowned. “If that is indeed the case, I am surprised to see you so miserable.”

  Lady Eleanor sighed, and for a moment, her eyes came to rest on Diana’s face, studying her, determining how much to say. “My mother does not approve,” she finally explained, her shoulders suddenly slumped in resignation.

  “Is he not of your station?” Diana asked, feeling a touch of guilt for the delight their conversation brought her. Despite Lady Eleanor’s misery, Diana could not help but savour the rare moment that someone addressed her as though she were worthy of their attention. Years had passed since that had last happened.

  “He is the fifth son of a baron,” Lady Eleanor explained. However, her eyes had become distant as she spoke. “Still, I do not believe that to be enough of a reason for my mother’s vehement objections. I do feel as though she knows something I do not.” Then Lady Eleanor blinked, and her gaze returned to meet Diana’s. Instantly, a bashful smile came to her features. “I apologise for ruining your night with my worries. Surely, there are friends and acquaintances you wish to attend to.” Nodding her head in appreciation, Lady Eleanor stepped back. “Thank you for listening though.”

  Before Diana could object, urge her to stay, assure her that her worries were not a burden but a blessing instead, Lady Eleanor walked away, and Diana was alone again.

  Once more, her heart plummeted into the black void that usually engulfed her upon leaving her home and subjecting herself to the judgement of others. At least for the duration of their conversation, Diana had been able to ignore the occasional stare or frown cast in her direction. Would it ever end? She wondered. Could one error in judgement truly live on forever?

  In the beginning, Diana had been certain that she only needed to be patient until another piece of gossip would arise, overshadowing her own mistake and allowing people to forget a little more every day. However, although other rumours and whispers now sounded louder than those directed at her, Diana now knew that society never truly forgot, and she had come to realise that her parents had been right: a reputation once lost was gone forever.

  The rest of the evening progressed as expected−as it always did. Keeping to herself, Diana observed the happy lives of those around her while desperately trying to shield her heart from the torturous sights before her eyes: Her cousin in love with the man Diana had once thought her soul mate.

  And although she knew that Rose meant well by including her, by seeking her out and asking if she needed anything, for Diana it only increased the sense of loneliness she had felt these past years.

  On their carriage ride home, Diana kept her eyes out the window, unable to look at her husband as he sat slumped in his seat, reeking of liquor. As impeccable as he liked to appear to the ton, Diana knew by now that her husband merely wore a well-crafted mask, and she had to admit that he deserved credit for hiding his own sins from the world at large with such skill. If only she had had the foresight to do so as well.

  A moment after the carriage drew to a halt in front of their townhouse, the door was opened and the steps lowered. However, her husband remained in his seat, merely nodding his head at her, bidding her a good night.

  Taking a deep breath, Diana allowed the coachman to help her out of the carriage before he once more closed the door and climbed back up onto the box. As Diana ascended the few steps to their front door, the carriage drew away from the kerb and was soon lost in the dark.

  Shaking her head at the unfairness of life, Diana retired to her chamber, wondering why it was merely frowned upon if a man had a mistress but if a woman spent even one moment in the company of an unrelated gentleman she was ruined? Irredeemable. Forever.

  Who had made these rules?

  Diana scoffed. Men, of course! Those who benefit from rules were usually the ones you’d set them.

  Blowing out the candle, Diana slipped into bed, pulling the sof
t blanket tightly around herself and decided to count her blessings. If her husband was with his mistress, then at least tonight, he wouldn’t bother her.

  Chapter Three - Life & Death

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Diana stared at the pale creature she saw there. Dressed in black from head to toe, her white skin in stark contrast to the gloom of her gown, her gloves, her scarf, her hat, she felt as though dead.

  Had she died and no one had told her?

  For a moment, her lids closed and then opened, and her gaze focused on the pale blue colour of her eyes, the only colour in an otherwise colourless apparition.

  No, it was her husband who had died, and yet, she could not say she knew how. No one had told her. After all, she was a woman, and women were shielded from the ugliness of the world. They were not strong. They could not bear the weight of knowing the truth.

  At least that’s what she had been told.

  Not in such direct terms, of course, but Diana had understood nonetheless. What she also understood was that it was a lie.

  A lie that was not meant to protect her, to shield her, but instead to protect her late husband’s reputation for although no one had breathed a word of the circumstances of his demise in her presence, Diana knew very well why that was the case.

  Her husband had died in the arms of his mistress.

  And although rumours probably already ran rampant, Diana knew that once the initial shock had died down, it would not be her husband who would be held accountable. If the past few years had taught Diana anything, it was that blame was rarely bestowed where it was deserved.

  Even today, the day of her husband’s funeral, Diana knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she, his widow, would not receive sympathy for losing him, for the circumstances of his death. She would not be pitied. She would not be comforted and consoled.

  No, eventually she would be blamed. Maybe not for causing his death outright, but for driving him into the arms of a mistress, for not being the kind of wife whom her husband would have deserved, for failing him.

  Diana’s heart sank at the thought of what awaited her.

  Would it ever end?

  Or would only death set her free?

  Not her husband’s.

  But her own.

  ***

  Returning home from the funeral, Diana realised she had barely heard a word that had been spoken, barely remembered a face she had seen. It was as though she saw everything through a black veil. Faces looked distorted and indistinct. Voices sounded muffled and dulled in comparison to the constant thoughts coursing through her head.

  All she could focus on was: what now?

  “Are you all right?”

  Lifting her head, Diana blinked, turning toward the familiar voice. A moment later, Rose’s face came into focus, her brows drawn down in concern. “Do you need to lie down?”

  Diana took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” she whispered, wondering what that meant.

  Glancing at the other mourners, Rose drew her aside and led her into the library where they were out of earshot. “Please, Diana, tell me what I can do to help you.”

  Forcing her thoughts to focus, Diana looked at her cousin, noting the signs of honest distress and concern, and a slow smile came to Diana’s face. “Thank you, dear Rose.” Then she shook her head. “But there is nothing you can do. My fate is sealed. It has been these past four years. Nothing will ever change.”

  Rose swallowed, her eyes slightly narrowing, and Diana could see that her cousin had meant something else. “You were referring to my husband’s death?”

  Rose nodded. “How do you feel?”

  “You know better than anyone that I did not love him,” Diana said, her voice slowly growing stronger as a sense of impatience washed over her. For the past four years, she had done her best to appear the devoted wife, and yet, it had done her no good. Would she now have to continue as the devoted widow for the rest of her life?

  Rose sighed. “I do know, yes. But lately, you seemed less…displeased with him,” she stated carefully, her bright green eyes searching Diana’s face. “At first, you were so forceful in your rejection of him, that I had hoped you would have come to care for−”

  “I gave up!” Diana interrupted, surprised by her sudden outburst and the one lonely tear that spilled over and slowly ran down her cheek. Swallowing, she held her cousin’s pitying gaze. Maybe pity was worse than blame after all! “I gave up,” she repeated quietly, stepping back as Rose reached out a comforting hand toward her. “I do not know how to live this life as I am forced to pretend from sunup to sundown.” She shook her head in resignation. “I didn’t have the strength to hold on to the woman I once was and still attempt to please my husband. At some point, I suppose I stopped caring. Or at least, I tried to.”

  “Oh, Diana, I’m so sorry,” Rose exclaimed, her arms once more rising with the intention to comfort. However, when she saw Diana’s rigid posture, she let them drop once more. “I had no idea you felt that way. How could I not have seen it?”

  A wistful smile came to Diana’s face. “Because you’re happy,” she said, remembering the blissful ignorance of those early days when she had believed herself in love. “You married the man I wanted. He refused me, but he chose you.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rose whispered once again, tears brimming in her eyes as she wrung her hands, desperate for something to do, to help, and still knowing that there was no such thing.

  “It was not your fault,” Diana said, wondering when she had come to that conclusion.

  In the first year after Rose had married Lord Norwood, Diana had despised her with all her heart for her betrayal. However, slowly over time, Rose’s gentle insistence to remain in Diana’s life had worn her down, had breached her defences…and today Diana was glad for it for Rose was the only one she dared to speak to and hold nothing back.

  “It was not your fault,” she repeated. “It was mine. I know now that I acted wrongly, and yet, I still feel that the punishment I suffered was too severe. It still is.” Diana drew in a deep breath. “You know how he did, do you not?” she asked, noting the slight paleness that came to Rose’s cheeks as she averted her eyes.

  “What he did was far worse, and yet, it doesn’t matter. Soon, it’ll be forgotten. Maybe referred to here and there as a hushed whisper, but people will not think less of him. Not truly. Not the way they think less of me.” Shaking her head, Diana fought down the urge to grab a book off the shelf beside her and hurl it at the wall with all her might. “Tell me that’s fair! Tell me that I deserve this! Because the more I learn about the life I am forced to live, the less I understand it. And I don’t know what to do next. I simply don’t know. Tell me, Rose, what am I to do?”

  Chapter Four - Widows & Brides

  After a fortnight of sitting at home and mourning a husband she never wanted to marry in the first place, Diana was no closer to an answer than on the day of the funeral. What was she to do?

  The mere thought of continuing her life in the same manner turned her stomach upside down, and yet, she could not see an alternative.

  Possibly after the end of her mourning period−which was a year away−she could return to society and look for another husband. But would anyone even want her? Would she want to subject herself to the same degrading treatment she had suffered at her late husband’s hands?

  Maybe she simply ought to remain a widow. It certainly was the easier, the saver option, and yet, Diana knew that she wanted more.

  A part of her felt as though it had been awakened from a long slumber as though prince charming had ridden up on his white steed and broken the spell with his kiss. Only there had been no prince and no kiss.

  Her husband had died…and set her free…if only in the sense that her desire to taste life beyond the dullness of her home had reawakened.

  In a word, what Diana wanted was to feel. Something. Anything.

  “Maybe we should take a stroll through the park,” Rose suggested, setting down
her teacup, as her eyes shifted over Diana with the same concerned expression that had been there constantly in the past fortnight. “The sun is shining, and there is a gentle breeze.”

  Sighing, Diana nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Encouraged, Rose almost jumped to her feet and immediately drew Diana to the foyer lest she change her mind. There, they reached for their jackets and hats held at the ready by attentive footmen and turned to the door without delay.

  However, the moment Diana stepped forward to follow her cousin, she caught the soft shimmer of light blue out of the corner of her eye. Turning back, her gaze narrowed as it slid over the armchair in the corner, all the way down to its leg. There, she saw one of her scarfs, half-hidden in the shadows, its radiant blue shining even more brightly after a fortnight of gloomy black.

  Diana drew in a deep breath, and an involuntary smile curled up her lips.

  Without thinking, she stepped forward and pulled it out from behind the chair’s leg. Running it through her fingers, Diana did not see the occasional speck of dust that had settled onto the fabric here and there. All she saw was the shimmering colour, and in that moment, Diana could not have parted with it for anything.

  “Is something wrong?” Rose said as she walked up and came to stand beside Diana. “Did you change your mind?” Then her eyes shifted down to the blue scarf clutched tightly in Diana’s hands as though it was a priceless treasure before they returned to her cousin’s face, a hint of suspicion in Rose’s emerald eyes. “You’re not…?”

  The corners of Diana’s mouth rose into a wide smile that she simply could not suppress even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t. “Yes, I am,” she declared triumphantly, winding the scarf around her arms so that they ends hung down in the front, gently swaying as she walked.

  “But you’re in mourning!” Rose objected as she followed Diana toward the mirror. “You simply cannot! You’re husband’s funeral was barely a fortnight ago. Diana, be reasonable!”