by Regina Darcy
Ann swallowed but did not speak, her heart was much too painful to allow her to talk openly.
“If would do you well to rise,” the doctor finished, stepping back and smiling kindly at her. “Your sister is well able to take care of you, I understand?”
Theodora, who had been standing quietly to one side of the room, moved forward at once.
“Of course, of course,” she said, quickly, giving Ann an encouraging smile. “I should be glad to assist you in any way, Ann, once you feel able to rise from your bed.”
Ann said nothing but merely turned her face away. She did not want to speak to the doctor nor to her sister, for her heart was so heavy that it was as though it weighed her down, pinning her to her bed. She heard the doctor and Theodora talking quietly together for a few minutes but paid them very little attention. She did not want to rise from her bed and return to society or face the Marquess. All she wanted to do was lie in bed and forget about him entirely.
And yet, as much as she wished for it, Ann’s mind could not let go of him, her heart could not free itself from the affection that lay there still. It did not bring her any delight now, however, but instead teased and mocked her for what she felt for the Marquess.
He did not care for her, as she had prayed and hoped he might. It was clear that he considered her nothing more than a fool, for he had returned to Lady Hedley only a few days after promising her that the lady meant nothing to him. He had vowed to remain faithful only to her, promising that he would not seek affection from any other, and yet that was precisely what he had done. Ann could not remove the image of his hands on Lady Hedley’s from her mind, could not forget how the lady had smiled up into the Marquess’ eyes, her beauty seeming to capture him entirely.
“Ann?”
Sitting up against the pillows, Ann turned her gaze back towards her sister, realising that the doctor had left them.
“He will not need to return,” Theodora told her, encouragingly. “He says you are well enough recovered to slowly begin to return to society.”
“I do not think that I am,” Ann replied, dully. “I think I should remain abed for a time.”
Her sister frowned, placing her hand over Ann’s gently. “You are in pain still?” Her eyes moved to Ann’s forehead. “There is some bruising there still, I grant you, but it will recover completely in a few days.”
Ann closed her eyes, finding that she wished for nothing more than for Theodora to leave her side and allow her to remain alone, in silence.
“It is not your head that aches, then,” Theodora commented, quietly. “It is your heart.”
Ann opened her eyes but found her vision blurry what with the tears that she was holding back. “I do not wish to speak of it, Theodora.”
“But you must,” Theodora replied, firmly. “For how else are you to begin to allow your heart to heal?” Leaning forward, she looked into Ann’s face, her expression determined. “And I should tell you this, Ann. The Marquess is desperate to speak with you. He has told me repeatedly that there is nothing of importance between himself and Lady Hedley and that what you and I witnessed has been completely misconstrued.”
Ann shook her head before turning her face away.
“I do not believe him,” she whispered, hoarsely. “I know that he is a gentleman who cares only for the affections of those that surround him and does not truly consider me with any fondness at all.”
There was a short pause.
“And what if you are wrong, Ann?”
Ann closed her eyes tightly against a sea of pain that threatened to crush her.
“I am not mistaken,” she whispered, her voice broken with emotion. “I believed him once. I shall not do so again.”
“But consider, my dear sister,” Theodora replied, urgently. “What if all that you seek is there waiting for you? What if the Marquess does truly care for you and his conversation with Lady Hedley is as he says? Then might you not be missing out on something so wonderful that it would bring you more contentment and happiness than you have ever known before?” Her expression was filled with earnestness. “He carried you across Hyde Park until he found a hackney and then took you carefully back to the house as though you were his most treasured possession, Ann. There has to be something in that, surely?”
Something like anger began to curl upwards in Ann’s chest. Anger that her sister, who had been so against Ann’s affection for the Marquess, was now doing her best to press him into her heart again.
“I cannot understand why you would ask me to reconsider!” she exclaimed, throwing herself to the other side of her bed and glaring at Theodora.
“I have found myself broken-hearted over the Marquess and his persistent eagerness to grasp the affections of Lady Hedley, and now you ask me to reconsider the matter?”
She saw Theodora’s eyes widen in surprise at her outburst, but it was as though something had ruptured inside her that she could no longer hold together.
“I thought myself in love with the Marquess, thought him to be the most courageous, most excellent of men, and yet now I see that I was entirely mistaken. He is not the gentleman I believed him to be. I looked past his foibles, chose not to believe that he was the rogue that everyone believed him to be – and now I am paying for such foolishness. Do not try to soften my heart towards him again, Theodora. I should never have allowed myself to trust him, should never have allowed myself to hope. If I could do anything, it would be to beg the Marquess to free me from this engagement.”
Theodora’s eyes were huge, her mouth working for a moment or two before she let out a long breath and finally shook her head.
“To end the engagement is a serious matter, Ann,” she said, gently. “I know that you are angry and upset and clearly are frustrated even with my attitude, but I say and do all of this in the hope that you will reconsider. If there is even the smallest chance that the Marquess is speaking the truth, then will you not allow yourself to even consider him again?”
Ann shook her head vehemently.
“No, I will not,” she stated, decisively. “I have made my choice. I was foolish to pursue the Marquess and even more foolish to believe and to hope that one day he might find a similar affection within his own heart for me.” Swallowing the lump in her throat and dashing the tears from her eyes, she lifted her chin and kept her gaze steady. “I would write to the Marquess this very moment.”
Theodora said nothing for a minute or two, looking back at Ann steadily as though she were deciding what to do.
“The writing table is in the drawing room, as you well know,” she replied, evenly. “Once you are dressed, I would be glad to ensure that you are able to descend the stairs to the room below.”
Ann narrowed her eyes. “You know very well that I do not feel able to leave my bed at this present time.”
“Then I suggest you wait until you have recovered your strength a little more,” Theodora replied, with a small smile. “For then you shall be able to go about your business and do as you wish without hesitation.”
Anger burned in Ann’s chest all over again. “You will not oblige me by having all that I need brought here?”
Theodora hesitated and then shook her head.
“No, I will not,” she replied, calmly. “The doctor has stated that you need to rise from your bed and go about as you normally do if you are to recover completely. Therefore I think it only best that I encourage you to do as he has instructed.” There was no malice in her voice, only compassion and encouragement in her expression but still, Ann remained angry.
“Then leave me to my own thoughts!” she exclaimed, turning over away from Theodora. “I shall not be forced into doing what I do not wish to do.”
Her sister rose, her skirts rustling softly.
“Very well,” she murmured quietly, the gentleness of her tone dampening Ann’s anger somewhat. “Do call for me should you need me, my dear sister. Good day.”
Ann closed her eyes tightly but even though she did so, moi
sture still escaped from under her closed lids and seeped out to run down her cheek. Stifling her sobs, Ann tried to cling onto her anger, onto her fury, but felt it begin to slip away from her. As it ran from her heart, all that it left behind was pain – and a pain that Ann felt fully.
It tore at her, biting at her, mocking her and deriding her. She had trusted the Marquess, let herself hope that he had told her the truth. The night they had been in the theatre, he had rejected Lady Hedley and turned towards her, choosing not to ask Lady Hedley to join them in the box.
She had felt a flush of hope at that, seeing how he had turned towards her and had rejected Lady Hedley. Lady Hedley had been angry at that but the Marquess had not seemed to either notice or care. How much delight she had felt in that! But now, only days later, all of her hope and trust had been shattered with what she had seen. Mayhap Lady Hedley’s anger had been nothing more than pretence.
Mayhap both she and the Marquess had decided to behave in such a manner in front of her, so that she would not become suspicious or upset over their continued acquaintance.
What does it matter now?
What pained Ann even more was that her heart still clung to the Marquess with a fierceness that would not let her go. Whilst being stubbornly resolute in her desire to bring her engagement to him to an end, Ann knew that her heart would continue to pull towards him regardless. Perhaps, in time, she would be able to free herself from him but it would not be soon. Even though he had shattered her with his behaviour, the love that had grown steadily over the year still remained within her heart.
“I shall write to him just as soon as I can,” she whispered to herself, as tears continued to stream from her eyes and soak into the pillow. “And my engagement shall be broken.”
Ann did not even consider the consequences of doing such a thing, knowing that there would be a good deal that would come after but finding that she cared very little for them. To have gossip and whispers trailing after her, to have her reputation dented or for the ton to even reject her seemed more palatable than having to continue on with her engagement to the Marquess. The only thing Ann wanted now was to be free of him, even if she had to go to his house and speak to him herself. Nothing would prevent her from regaining her freedom once again.
TEN
“I swear to you that I speak the truth.”
“You need not make vows to me, Penderstone,” the Duke of Sotheby replied, dryly. “For it is not I who has been hurt.”
Charles groaned and collapsed into a chair.
“I am well aware of that,” he admitted, softly. “I received Ann’s letter only this morning.”
“And came around to call upon her at once,” the Duke finished, with a slight lift of his brow.
Charles looked up in desperation.
“How could I not?” he replied, urgently. “I do not wish to end my engagement!”
The Duke nodded slowly, considering this statement for a few moments. “And yet you have often been seen in the company of Lady Hedley,” he said, quietly. “And it is well known that she is the sort of lady to offer her affections without hesitation to any gentlemen she considers worthy.”
Charles shook his head.
“I have never accepted them,” he replied, honestly. “The day Miss Winters saw myself and Miss Hedley speaking, I was informing the lady that our acquaintance could no longer continue. I have been a fool in continuing our friendship for as long as I have but that is only because I was fearful of what I felt with regards to your sister-in-law.”
The Duke’s brows shot up in surprise.
“I care for her,” Charles finished, not holding the truth back anymore. “I have found an affection in my heart for Miss Winters that can no longer be denied.”
“And are you being truthful in all that you say, Penderstone? Matters of the heart are not to be toyed with.”
The door opened to reveal the Duchess, who had clearly heard this last declaration from Charles.
Charles got to his feet at once and bowed, whilst the Duke went to pour two brandies – one for himself and one for Charles, before ringing for tea for the Duchess.
“It is the truest thing I have ever said,” Charles replied, honestly. “If it were not so, I would have been delighted to discover that Miss Winters wished to bring an end to our engagement, would I not?”
This made the Duchess frown slightly, her sharp eyes – so like those of Miss Winters – looking from place to place before coming to rest on him again.
“If I did not care for Miss Winters in the way that I have confessed, then surely you would not expect to find me here, desperately seeking a way for our engagement to continue,” Charles finished, seeing how the Duke and the Duchess exchanged a glance. “Surely instead, you would have found me replying to her at once, thanking her for her letter and promising to do as she asked?”
The Duchess sighed, ran one finger over her forehead as she lowered her head a little and then, eventually, nodded. “I have hoped, my lord, that what I saw in your expression the day you saw my sister at Hyde Park meant that there was something within you that might have some fondness for her.”
“It is more than fondness,” Charles replied, “I have come to find that my heart is filled with her. I cannot even think of another, for she has captured me completely. It is only now that I fear it is too late for me to both realise that truth and share it with her.”
The Duchess sighed again and sat down, just as the Duke handed Charles a snifter of brandy, which he accepted gratefully. Once the three were seated, Charles took a sip of his brandy and let the warmth fill him, chasing away some of the uneasy thoughts that had been running around his mind.
“I think that you must speak to Ann,” the Duke began, only for the Duchess to shake her head fervently. “You think not, my dear?”
The Duchess shot Charles a quick look before spreading her hands out in apparent helplessness.
“I have tried to speak to my sister but she will not listen to a word that I say. I told her that she had to rise from her bed in order to write to you, my dear Marquess, and eventually she did so. However, once the letter was written, she returned to her bed and has not removed herself from it since then. That has been almost two days now.”
Charles’ shoulders slumped. Clearly, his betrothed was in despondency which he had sole blame for.
“Then my words will do no good.”
“They will only do good if she is willing to listen to you, Penderstone,” the Duke replied. “It is a struggle to see how else she might be willing to speak to you about such things.”
Silence reigned for some minutes.
Charles drank his brandy and tried to think of what he might do that would encourage Miss Winters not only to speak to him of the pain and sorrow in her heart but also, in turn, to listen to him. However, nothing came to mind, leaving him struggling as though he were standing knee-deep in clay.
Then, the Duke cleared his throat.
“Penderstone, are you still eager to marry Ann?”
Charles looked up from his almost empty brandy glass.
“I am,” he replied, honestly. “I can think of nothing I wish for more.”
“And the banns have been called?”
Charles nodded again.
“The final banns were called only yesterday.”
The Duke’s expression brightened, his eyes turning back to his wife who sat looking back at him in confusion.
“Then I know what we can do.”
“I – I do not understand,” the Duchess said, confused. “What is it that you seek to do, Sotheby?”
Slowly, Charles began to realise what the Duke was thinking. It came as something of a shock to him although, as the idea began to take hold, Charles found that his mind was not rebelling against it but rather clinging to it, drawing it in closer and closer until it had captured his heart.
“It may fail completely,” he murmured aloud, rubbing at his forehead in an attempt to think clearly. “If she
appears, then she may very well reject me and I shall be left without any hope whatsoever.”
“But if you do not,” the Duke responded. “Then you shall find yourself as you are now. You have a choice to make, Penderstone. Either you take a risk and attempt to prove to my sister-in-law that your heart is full of her and only her, as you have said, or you take the letter she has written you and decide to respond.”
Charles frowned.
“I could refuse to allow our engagement to end,” he suggested, knowing that such an idea was quite within his rights but would make for a very unsatisfactory marriage.
The Duchess shook her head, a wry laugh escaping from her. “Ann would not be particularly pleased if you refused her request and forced her to wed you, my lord,” she told him. “Although you have every right to do so. I just do not believe that your marriage would then go on to find any semblance of happiness.”
“That was precisely what I was thinking,” Charles replied. “Therefore, I shall have to do as the Duke has suggested. It is an idea which will bring this matter to an end one way or the other.”
The Duchess, who clearly now understood what was to occur without it having to be explained to her, nodded.
“I think that is wise, my dear Marquess,” she said, gently. “However, consider carefully what you are to say to her. Ann feels as though she cannot trust you and believes that what she witnessed was a breaking of your promises to her. Therefore, your words must be sincere.”
Charles considered this carefully, feeling a weight of responsibility landing on his shoulders. If he failed, then it could bring an end to his engagement and that would leave him in utter torment. All he wanted was to wed Miss Ann Winters, to share with her the affection and the love that was growing within his heart. It was astonishing to him that he felt such a way and yet he was grateful for it and for all the changes it had brought.
“I shall write to Miss Winters at this very moment, if I may?” he asked, finishing the rest of his brandy and setting the glass down. “Thereafter, I shall have some time to prepare.”