by Abigail Agar
He wanted the focus off of him, which was why he acted in such a way. Edmund never usually spoke to the woman he loved more than anyone else in the world like that. It was not right.
Luckily, she knew him well enough not to be offended. “I shall get dressed when I see fit. I do not see why I always have to follow the unwritten rules inside my own home. Not if there is no one to see me.”
“I can see you.” Iris gave Edmund a shrug and a smile. She felt too old to worry about silly little things anymore. “Or do I not count?”
“Oh, you count.” She picked up her tea again and took a sip. This time, her eyes slid closed as she enjoyed the sensation of the warm liquid running down her throat. “I have just been thinking a lot about the things I do just because I think I must. Such as getting dressed for breakfast.”
“Why is that?”
Edmund tried to lose himself in what his mother was saying, but the constant distraction of the unopened letter was never far from his mind. It burned his fingertips as if it was on fire, sparking his curiosity deeply. If he were alone, he would have torn it open already.
“Your father passed away fifteen years ago. Since then, I have not had any marriage offers.” For a moment, Edmund felt certain he could see some sadness reflected in his mother’s gaze, but it passed before he could comment on it. “Not that I want any, really. I shall never find a man who I love as much as I did him.”
Edmund had heard the story many times. He could not remember his father well, but his mother kept him alive with her constant stories. His parents held on to a love story like nothing he had ever seen with anyone else. It was the very reason he had not hunted out marriage for himself. He did not wish to settle for someone he did not love just because the woman had the right title. He wanted his very own love story to cherish.
“So, now that I am not looking for marriage, why do I need to behave in a certain way?”
“Because that is how polite society behaves,” Edmund commented idly. “It is simply the way that things are done.”
“In public, yes,” Iris agreed. “But I am not in public now, so I do not see any reason not to do exactly as I please.”
Edmund chuckled as a self-satisfied smile spread across his mother’s cheeks. Her fiery nature always made him feel happier. There was no one like his mother, and that was what he liked best about her. She inspired him to be better himself.
“Well?” Iris nodded back towards Edmund’s hand, reminding him once more of the letter he held. “Do you ever intend to open that?”
He glanced down at it with his heart beating wildly. Edmund knew now that his mother would not let it go. He would never be granted the privacy he so desperately required.
“I suppose so,” he mused quietly. “It is written on rather fine stationery, do you not think? Who could have written it?”
“You will not find out unless you open it.” Iris could feel herself growing impatient. She could not understand how her son had left it unopened for so long. “Let us see now before I drive myself crazy.”
Finally, Edmund could find no more excuses, so he tucked the letter opener into the envelope, and he tore it apart.
“Oh!” His eyes grew wider as he scanned the words. Of all the things he had been expecting – not that he really had any idea what it might be – this was not it. “How very strange.”
“What is it?” Iris could barely contain herself. “Who is it from?”
“A man named Walter Thompson.”
“Walter Thomson?” Iris narrowed her eyes in confusion. “I do not know that name.”
As if simply to frustrate her further, Edmund ran his eyes up and down the page a few times. There had to be something about the information that made him need to continually reread it. It had to be something very exciting ... or utterly terrible.
“He is writing on behalf of William Roberts, which is a name you might recognise?” Edmund peered over the top of the page. Judging by his mother’s confused expression, she still did not know what was happening. “I trained with him once after I finished school. He is the one who taught me all that I know about business.”
“So we have him to thank him for that.” Iris smiled widely. She knew that her son worked with many men during his career in finance, but she did not know the details of any of them. If her husband were still alive, that would have been his job. “That is good to know. What does William Roberts want with you now?”
“William Roberts passed away years ago. We went to his funeral. Do you not remember?”
Iris felt bad, but she did not like to pay too much attention to any funeral these days. Especially as they became increasingly regular with each passing year. Her husband’s funeral was the worst day of her entire life, and she did not like to be reminded of it by the passing of others.
Not that she could explain that to Edmund. He did not have such an emotional view of the world.
“Of course, I am sorry. So please tell me what the letter says.”
“William Roberts left a clause in his will all those years ago that affects me now.”
Iris had to clench her fist tight to prevent herself from snatching the page from her son’s hand. She could not understand why he was being so cryptic with her.
“And this has just come to light now?”
Edmund’s skin paled as he continued to speak. “His youngest daughter, Mary Roberts, has just turned eighteen years of age. He wishes her to inherit the family home, but not without being married.”
“I see.”
Iris did not see why this news was letter worthy, but she was doing her best to patiently wait for Edmund to finally get there.
“He wishes for her to marry me.”
Iris’ heart stopped dead in her chest. She did not expect her son’s sentence to end in that way. Her hands gripped onto the teacup so tightly she feared she might smash it. Yet she could not let go; it was almost as if she had no control over her body anymore.
“You must have made quite the impression for him to make such a will,” she replied in almost a whisper.
“He did like me a lot,” Edmund admitted. “We always got on very well, and he was impressed with my strong work ethic.”
Edmund did not say this part aloud for fear of upsetting his mother, but he liked William Roberts a lot too. He helped him in a way that his father would have, had he been alive. They had a family-like bond. He was utterly devastated when the man died. He did not want his mother to think that he ever wanted to replace his father, though. That was never the case.
“Did he ever mention his daughter to you?”
“He did not.” Edmund shook his head firmly. “But I suppose we were both too young then to even think about marriage.”
“You certainly are not too young now.” Iris cocked her head to one side, examining her son curiously. Now that the initial shock had passed, she could see the situation a lot more rationally. Surprisingly, it made a whole lot of sense for this to happen. “At four and twenty years old, you do need to find yourself a wife.”
“I do not see it that way.” Edmund thrust his arms across his chest. “I do not want a wife I do not know. I want a wife I can love.”
“This Lady has a title and wealth; she is exactly the sort of woman who you should be marrying ...”
“Which is exactly why I do not wish to marry her,” Edmund interrupted. “I have not yet met a Lady who I like.”
“What is wrong with the Ladies you have met?”
“I do not know exactly. They seem dull and uninspiring.”
Edmund could not quite put his finger on it; they just never inspired anything within him. He kept waiting for that exciting moment when he met a woman who would bring him to life and make him realise just what he was looking for. When it happened, he would know it. If there was one thing he felt certain of, it was that.
“I did not know I would love your father when I first met him,” Iris warned as she spotted the dream-like quality in her son’s eyes. “T
hat did not come right away.”
“I understand that ...”
“I do not think you do,” Iris interrupted firmly. “I think you assume that things will happen like they do in a fairy tale, which is not the case.”
Edmund’s entire face reddened and steamed up. He felt utterly appalled by his mother’s comments. “I am not a child,” he hissed back. “I know what the world is like. I just do not wish to have my future dictated for me.”
“Even by a man that you respect?” Iris asked with one eyebrow raised in amusement. “I thought that William Roberts meant a lot to you.”
“He did ...” Edmund did not know where his mother was going with this, and the uncertainty shook in his voice. “But I do not think ...”
“I do think that you at least need to meet his daughter. It would be terribly rude not to. You do not wish to be seen as rude, do you?”
She had him there. Edmund was a ruthless businessman, which helped him to get very far, but the one thing he always kept up was his level of politeness. His mother was right; he might not wish to marry this stranger – or anyone for that matter, at least at the moment – but he did not want to be seen as someone who was rude.
Even if William was no longer around to judge him for it.
“Fine,” he eventually agreed with an air of nonchalance. “I will send a reply to Walter Thompson and tell him that I will meet Mary. But I will make it clear immediately that I am not agreeable to this plan; I do not think it will work.”
“It would be wonderful if it did, though, would it not?” Iris’ imagination ran away with her. “It would be so lovely to see you with a wife and child. I do believe it is time.”
Edmund pushed his chair back, scraping it along the floor. “Now who is living in a fairy tale?” he shot back sarcastically. “I am warning you now, Mother, do not get too excited. I do not think this is going to work out as you imagine.”
On that note, Edmund strode from the room with a serious expression on his face. Iris might have believed that he was not terribly excited about the news, but with the letter clutched tightly between his fingertips as he went, it seemed he liked the idea more than he was letting on.
For that, Iris felt truly grateful. Edmund seemed to grow lonelier the older he got. He was so focused on the business and making a success of himself to maintain the household that his father left behind, Iris feared he shut people out far too much. He used to have friends, but he did not get to see them as much anymore now that they all had families of their own.
It was not a friend that Edmund needed anyway, it was a wife.
Iris desperately hoped that this situation, however unusual it was, led to that. She feared that he would spend so much of his life searching for someone perfect that he would end up alone. Iris was alone now, but she would not trade the years that she spent with her husband for anything in the world.
As Edmund left his mother behind, his mind churned. His mother’s words made this letter so much weightier than it was before. Now, it was about to force him to do something that he truly did not want to.
It shall be fine, he tried his best to convince himself. I shall meet Mary Roberts, do what is required of me, then continue on with my life.
No one could judge him for not wishing to marry Mary once he met her. He would not be letting William down. Surely, the woman did not have to marry him specifically to gain her inheritance? That would be far too much to put on him.
I will have to ask Walter for more information once I see him. I shall read the document myself.
It was a shock to Edmund to have someone from his past come back into his life in such an unexpected way. It stunned him, turned his life upside down, and left him unsure of what would happen next. And Edmund had a very strong suspicion that was only going to get a whole lot worse ...
Chapter 3
As Mary walked into the home that her elder sister, Charlotte, shared with her husband, her eyes widened in surprise. It did not matter how many times she came to visit, it would always come as a shock. The home they shared was incredible; huge, elegant, and filled with luxury. Right in the heart of London, it was almost a castle fit for royalty.
Lord Jones, Charlotte’s husband, and his family made their wealth from banking and finance. It was a lucrative company that meant her sister could afford anything in the world. It hardly mattered that he was two decades older than her sister. He was chosen for her because of the lifestyle he could offer her.
Just like this Duke was for Mary, she supposed ...
Mary could not help herself; she felt very jealous of what her sister had. This home, the exciting life of going to the sort of society events that her husband’s wealth opened up to her, the clothes and jewellery ... it was all like a dream come true. It made their family home look utterly tiny; it made Mary feel like she had nothing. She did want something so lovely herself; Mary was keen to inject a little more excitement into her life, but that did not mean she was ready for marriage and to be thrown into society just yet.
Still, no matter what she had, Charlotte never looked happy. Her plump, bee-stung lips were always turned down, and her round brown eyes were filled with utter sadness. Even her pale, milky skin looked drawn and distressed under all the make-up that she wore. Just looking at her made Mary’s heart ache.
“Please, Mary, take a seat,” she told her sister much too formally. Mary could remember a time when all they did was bicker over silly things. Now Charlotte was acting like she was a stranger. “Would you like some tea?”
Mary nodded to agree, but only to try and get rid of the butler that seemed to follow Charlotte everywhere. “Yes, please. Thank you very much.”
Once they were alone, Mary leaned forward and examined her sister carefully. The silk dress that flowed from her body appeared perfect, and her hair finely adorned, but she was definitely wearing a mask to try and hide her feelings. Mary needed to delve right in to find out more.
“Charlotte, are you alright? You do not appear to be quite well.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened with shock, but she quickly rearranged her expression until her face was blank once more. “I am utterly fine, Mary. I hope that you are well too.”
Mary bit down on her bottom lip as she considered carefully what she needed to say next. She wanted to confide in her sister, but it was a challenge to find the right words. “Actually, I am not. I had a meeting with Walter earlier in the week.”
“Father’s friend?” Charlotte screwed up her face in confusion. She could remember the man well. Being older than Mary was when their father died, everything stuck in her mind much more clearly. “Why did you have a meeting with him? I have not seen him since ...”
“Father’s funeral, I know.” Mary nodded slowly. “That was sort of what he wanted to talk to me about.”
“Why would he talk with you now? Father passed away five years ago. Why would he be speaking to you now?”
“There was a clause in Father’s will that affects me now.” Charlotte turned her whole body to face Mary. Her hands remained tightly clasped in her lap, but her fingers wrung around one another showing her anxiety. “Now that I am eighteen years of age, he wishes me to get married.” She breathed deeply, all of this suddenly feeling much too real. “I will not inherit the family home if I do not get married.”
“What?” Charlotte felt utterly horrified by that statement; she could hardly believe it. “Why would Father be so cruel? I can hardly believe it!” She could feel her body trembling. “Why would he not just allow you to have the house?”
“Walter believes that Father has my best interests at heart.” Mary’s heart sunk. “He thinks that Father just wants to persuade me into a wedding because it is what is best for me now that I am eighteen.”
Charlotte was filled with an utter sense of ice-cold dread. The mask that she kept on her face at all times slipped slightly. Despite the fact that she did not like anyone to know how she truly felt, her emotion almost peeked through. “Has
Father suggested a man for you?”
“Yes,” Mary whispered. “He is a Duke that he has worked with in the past.”
“Oh, no.” Charlotte shook her head vigorously. “No, no, no.”
Mary parted her lips and started to ask why her sister was having such a terrible reaction to her statement, but the words fell away from her mouth when the butler returned to the room with the cups of tea. She looked desperately at Charlotte, but her sister had very clearly returned to ‘Lady Jones’ mode. Mary was now starting to see that she spent a lot of time playing a character.
“Thank you very much, Arthur. I would love some privacy now, please. Can you alert the staff members that I would like to be left alone?”