Christmas Wishes: The Love of a Marquess

by Emily Williams

  He had become very pale, she noticed, as she finished her thought. “My dear, whatever is the matter?”

  “N…nothing,” he replied. “I…need to get some fresh air.”

  And without another word, he was up on his feet and walking toward the doors leading outside, leaving her there all alone in the tavern.

  She simply stared at his empty seat. That had been awfully abrupt, and she wondered what she could have said to upset him. Hadn’t he thought of these very same things? Isn’t that a large part of wishing to marry someone?

  She hesitated for a moment, but she realized very quickly that there was not a soul in the room that she knew, and it was not long before she, too, was outside beneath the quickly darkening sky.

  Looking around, she pulled her traveling cloak more closely to herself, feeling the wind pick up, sweeping through the streets. She glanced up and down both sides of the street and felt a flicker of anxiety when she couldn’t immediately see Charles.

  She walked down the road in the direction they had come, toward the long, cobblestone bridge that spanned the wide river she could hear from where she stood. She wasn’t sure why, but she assumed this was where he would end up being; perhaps his adventurous, spontaneous nature was not as unfamiliar as she had once believed.

  She had been correct.

  Charles leaned against the side of the bridge, gazing down into the river below, the wind sweeping the hair from his face. He looked so young standing in the fading sun, much more like a young boy than a man who was ready to become her husband.

  The sight, she realized, made her very sad. She had found him in a very similar position when she had discovered that his mother had died. He looked vulnerable, exposed, and she wondered if she should approach him at all.

  She remained where she was, beside the storefront before the bridge, and watched him. He continually bent down, grabbed what she assumed was a small stone, and pelted it over the side into the rushing water below.

  Feeling a bit like a parent watching her child, Lady Harriette frowned. Is this what her life was to become? Would he act this way whenever they were to have some sort of disagreement? And did what they had in the tavern even count as a disagreement? She wasn’t sure, but it made her uneasy.

  She straightened her shoulders and started off toward him once more, acknowledging to herself that if this was how they were to start off their life together, she wasn’t going to have it. He didn’t even hear her coming until she reached the bridge and her boots crunched on the gravel beneath her.

  “Oh, it’s just you,” he said. He turned back to the river. “You startled me.”

  “You startled me, Charles,” she replied, rather indignantly. It was incredible to her that she could have felt so romantic just a short time ago, and now she felt irritated and upset. “You just left me in that tavern all alone. What if something had happened to your wife-to-be?”

  He winced when she said those words. “Please, don’t…don’t call yourself that.”

  “What?” she questioned. “Your wife-to-be? Why on earth should I not call myself that? Would you prefer fiancée? Or betrothed?”

  He remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead.

  “What has happened to you? Why won’t you tell me anything about what we are doing?”

  “What do you mean? I have told you what we are doing. We are going to get married!”

  “Then why were you far more excited about it the night you asked me to run away with you than you are now?” She watched the side of his face, and his jaw tightened. “We were both so happy just the other night! How is it that all of that has disappeared already?”

  Once again, he was quiet, his lips pursed together.

  “Where are we going, Charles?” she said finally, feeling exasperated. She wondered, not for the first time, if she was indeed making the right decision.

  Standing out in the cold evening air with no home to return to left her feeling suddenly frightened. She had no idea where they were, or where they planned to go. She suddenly missed her home, her family, Lord Henry, her own bed.

  She felt tears well up in her eyes.

  “Charles, I have a right to know where we are and what is happening to me.”

  He sighed heavily. “Please don’t get upset. We are in the village of Huntington.”

  “Why?” she asked before he could say anything else.

  “It’s just a stop on our way to get married,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

  “Why didn’t we just get married in Fair Haven? Or in Greenwich, where we live?”

  He kicked at some stones in the path in front of himself. His childish responses to her questions were causing her anger to flare even more.

  “Would you look at me?” she asked, feeling more and more desperate by the second.

  He slowly looked up into her face. She was surprised to see that he was as exasperated as she was.

  “I guess there’s no point in hiding it anymore,” he began, and sighed heavily. “You would have discovered it at some point. There is no point trying to hide it from you forever.”

  He looked up at her. “I never had the intention of marrying you,” he said rather flatly.

  “Wh…what?” she breathed, feeling as if she had heard him incorrectly. Of course she heard him incorrectly…hadn’t she?

  “Well, that’s not entirely true,” he said, turning to look over at the river once more. “I did intend to marry you. But it was for different reasons than what you think.”

  She couldn’t even form words because she was so shocked. Harriette just stood there, on the cold, darkening bridge, staring at Charles in utter disbelief.

  He looked at her, pleadingly, and began to pace back and forth. “You see, when my mother passed away, my father found it harder to work. I had to pick up a lot of the slack, which was fine, but I hated seeing him so discouraged all the time. I would watch you and your family, without a care in the world, not ever worrying about if you would be without a meal that week.”

  She swallowed painfully, her fists clenched at her side.

  “Then why did you never ask my father for help? Why didn’t your father?”

  Charles shrugged his shoulders. “You would think that would be simple, wouldn’t you? But my father is a proud, proud man, and would never bring himself that low as to ask for help. Not from anyone.”

  The bitterness in his voice was prominent.

  “But one afternoon, after I had just come home from playing down by the creek with you and Lord Henry, my father mentioned something that has stuck with me until today. Do you know what that was?” he asked her.

  She only glared at him.

  “He said, ‘Son, all of our worries would end if you were to marry that Lady Harriette. You would be well taken care of, and she’s rather fond of you.’ And then he sighed, and shook his head. I’ll never forget the look on his face.”

  Harriette just stared at him blankly. She could not believe what she was hearing. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding; she had to have missed something somewhere. There was no way that he simply wanted to marry her for…

  “My money?” she asked, feeling her cheeks burning. “You are telling me that you asked me to run away with you so that you could have my money?”

  “Well, it sounds quite a bit more devious when you say it like that, Harriette,” he replied, inclining his head to her.

  “Did you ever care about me?” she asked, infuriated. “At all?”

  He held up his hands, attempting to steady her. “Harriette, of course I did. I am not a man without feeling, of course.”

  “But do you love me?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. As she considered the question for herself, she wondered if she would be more disappointed about his lack of affection toward her, or the fact that he seemingly double-crossed her to marry her.

  He stared into her face, and before he even uttered the words, she knew the truth.
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br />   “No,” he replied simply.

  She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt betrayed, disgusted, and with no purpose.

  “But that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t come to love you,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I am very fond of you, Harriette. We have been good friends for a long time, and I hoped that you would understand why I did this.”

  “You have ruined me!” she shouted, turning back to him, her arms tight at her side, her hands clenched so tightly that her fingernails dug into her palms. “I am not even out in society yet, and you think it wise to betray me in such a way? Betray my family? After all that we have done for you; after all of the wonderful times we had together as children?”

  She wasn’t crying because she was sad. She had surpassed that very quickly, and now all that was left was a seething rage.

  “No,” she said, straightening the dress she wore, pulling herself together. “No, you have done nothing of the sort. The solution is easy. Yes. You just need to ensure my safe return home, and then all will go back to how it was before we left.”

  “You must be joking,” he said, a hollow laugh playing at his lips.

  “Of course I’m not joking!” she replied coolly. “We can make up some sorry excuse for why you took me away from home, and hope that my father does not skin you alive upon our return.”

  Charles rolled his eyes and took a step toward her. He lowered his voice and spoke very fast.

  “No one will take you now, don’t you see? They will assume that you are now—”

  “What?” she said, rather hotly. “A harlot of some sort? You cannot be serious, Charles.”

  “I am serious,” he replied. “Who would believe you?”

  “Everyone who knows me would believe me!” She cried, feeling the anger rise in her throat. “Why would they ever assume that something like that had happened to me?”

  “Would you be able to prove them otherwise?” he asked, crossing his arms across himself, leaning against the bridge’s wall.

  She groaned out loud, looking at him, her vision narrowing. She felt a loud, painful thumping in her skull, and her knees felt as if they were no longer attached to her body.

  “Perhaps I should tell my father that you kidnapped me,” she replied, and she was pleased to see the color leave his face rather rapidly. “And then you will have no choice but to spend the rest of your life in some cold, dark dungeon.”

  “Now wait just a moment…” he said, holding up his hands in defense. “It was never my intention to tarnish your reputation.”

  “Then what did you think would happen if you asked me to run away with you?”

  “Well, it is just as much your fault as it is mine!” he cried in reply. “You agreed to run away with me, knowing full well all of the risks that it involved.”

  “I thought you wanted to marry me because you loved me! Had I known otherwise, I would have refused outright and sent out the servants to have you thrown in the creek.”

  He sighed. “We cannot go back. Not until we are married.”

  “I am not marrying you,” she answered. “I am going to find a way home, whether you like it or not.”

  “No one will believe you without my word to back it up,” he replied.

  “No one will believe you at all,” she retorted. “You ruined that chance when you told me the truth.”

  “Would you rather have married me had you not known the truth?”

  She paused, glowering at him. “No,” she replied eventually, some of the anger dissipating. “No.”

  “I do still want to marry you,” he said. “I think that you would be the most incredible wife. And we have always had so much fun together, haven’t we?” he said, his voice quieter and more gentle.

  She looked up at him. She could see genuineness in his eyes. She could see that he did care for her.

  “I don’t know…” she replied. “How can you still ask me to marry you after everything you just told me?”

  “Because I am doing what any man would do for his family,” he said gently, looking into her eyes. “But more importantly, I do care for you.”

  She sighed heavily. Would she be able to marry him now knowing now what she did?

  “Think of it this way,” he said, looking at the ground beneath his feet. “If you continue the path with me, and we get married, your reputation will remain intact. They will consider you foolish, but your father would not have the heart to disown you. Nor your mother.”

  She bit on the inside of her lip.

  “On the other hand, if you return home, unmarried, you’ll have a very difficult time finding a husband due to the fact that you ran away with a boy before you were out in society.”

  She glared at him. He had put her in a very, very compromising position.

  “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 mome
nt, 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 -