by Abigail Agar
Chapter 12
“I will come back soon …” Edmund said to Mary as they stood by the bookshelf once more. The dusty book that she dropped lay between their feet as a reminder of the chemistry that they shared. One brush of her hand, and Mary was tipped over the edge. “I will come back and take you away from all of this because I have realised that I am utterly in love with you.”
“You are?” Mary asked just as breathlessly. It was so lovely to hear those words; they filled her with such an intense and powerful warmth. “But how can you know for sure that you love me? We have not spent that much time together.”
“You know that you love me, do you not?” he asked while placing a hand ever so gently on her hip. His deep green eyes penetrated hers and made her lungs constrict. At that moment, she felt like he could see into her soul like he knew her better than she knew herself. “We have all the time in the world to get to know one another better, but I do not need to know more to understand that what I am feeling deep inside is love.”
With his spare hand, he grabbed onto Mary’s hand, and he rested his forehead against hers. They breathed one another in; they inhaled each other, and at that moment, Mary felt that they were becoming one. A union more powerful than any marriage could ever give them.
“Yes,” she whimpered back. “I do love you too. I think I have done so ever since the very first moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Well,” Edmund replied in that teasing manner, with his head cocked to one side ever so slightly and his left eyebrow raised. “Not from the very first moment you saw me.”
He edged his lips closer to Mary’s, which only made her pulse race even faster. There was something about this incredibly handsome man that made her entire body react powerfully to him. She did not even know how to explain how he made her feel, only that it was a sensation that she never wanted to end.
“No,” she whispered back. “Not from the very first moment. But from every second after that.”
As soon as she had realised that arrogance was not Edmund’s strongest trait, she had started to see him for who he really was. Giving him a second chance was the absolute best thing she could have done. She did not have much to thank Walter for, but pushing her into yet another meeting was certainly one. If she had stuck to her initial assumption about Edmund, she would never have been given the chance to feel this incredible love.
He moved closer still, amping up the anticipation that tore through Mary. She lifted herself onto her tiptoes, feeling much bolder as she pursed her lips out towards Edmund. There was only one way that this would end; they were going to kiss, and both of them knew it, so why delay the inevitable? Mary wanted to give into temptation this time; she wanted to cave to the magnetism between them and judging by the happy expression on Edmund’s face, he did too.
“I love you,” she murmured again, allowing her breath to tickle his lips. “I do not think I will ever tire of saying it.”
She wanted to stand on the top of her house and to yell it for all of London to hear. She wished that everyone could know just how much she loved this man, and how he belonged to her. She wanted the whole world to know that she had found the man of her dreams. Despite all the odds being stacked against her, her father had found the perfect man for her.
“And I shall never tire of hearing it.”
Then their lips connected, and happiness burst in mini-explosions all over Mary’s body. Edmund’s lips made her feel so wonderful they were worth ruining her reputation for. She did not care about anything else other than him. Her arms snaked tighter around him, and she held him so close it was as if their bodies had fused together.
It was the best sensation in the world …
“Miss Roberts?”
“Huh?” Mary muttered as she thought she heard her name being called by someone who was not Edmund. The last thing that she wanted to do was pull away from the amazing moment with the most wonderful man on the planet, but there was something else trying to grab her attention, and she could not help giving it. “What?”
Her body could no longer resist; she pried her eyes wide open and let the brightness of daylight enter her vision. It was unwelcome and unwanted. She did not want to leave Edmund at all, even if he was only a figment of her imagination in her dreams.
“Are you quite alright, Miss Roberts?” Daisy asked again. “I do not like to wake you, only you were talking quite loudly in your sleep.”
Mary bolted into a sitting position, and cool humiliation flooded her. She knew what she had been dreaming and could not imagine what on earth she had been saying aloud. “I, erm, I was?” she asked while rubbing her head hard. “I am terribly sorry; I must have been having a deep sleep.”
Daisy did not break from the routine of clearing up Mary’s room as she talked. She did not want the young Lady to be embarrassed by her sleep talking which was why she would never let her friend know what she had been saying.
“Of course,” she replied evasively. “You do not need to be sorry; I just wanted to check that you are alright.”
“Hmm, yes,” Mary said as if she was not truly listening to Daisy. Her eyes were fixed towards the window, and her mind was somewhere else entirely. “I am just fine.”
Daisy dusted around, growing increasingly close to Mary with each passing second. There was a lot that she wanted to ask her friend, but she was not sure where to begin. The last thing that she wanted was to hurt Miss Roberts’ feelings. She had seen signs of progression between her and the Duke, but she did not know how to address that, or even if she should.
“Is there anything you wish to discuss?” she eventually said quietly. “You seem like you have a lot playing on your mind.”
Mary turned to stare at Daisy, almost as if she had only just realised that she was there. The dream had continued to affect her mind for a few moments longer, and she had not even managed to shake off the intensity yet. She needed to get some of her feelings off her chest. While she knew that she could talk to Charlotte about it, she did not feel right rubbing her happiness in her face. Daisy was a safe bet, and she could speak to her easily.
“You were right about His Grace,” she said calmly. “You were right to convince me to give him a second chance. The first impression that he gave me was not him at all.”
A bright grin broke out on Daisy’s face. She perched on the edge of the bed and turned to look at Mary. Yes, she still had work to do, but that could wait for a moment. Since learning of her friendship with Lady Roberts, all the other staff members were keen to know where their future lay. Some positive information was what they all needed right now because morale among the workers was incredibly low.
“I am glad to hear that,” she prodded. “So what has been happening?”
A blissful expression came across Mary’s face which really cheered Daisy up. That had to be a good sign. She found her fingers gripping onto the bed sheet below her while she waited for Mary to answer.
“We have been spending a lot of time together,” Mary told Daisy with happiness lilting her tone. “And the more I get to know him, the more I like him.”
Daisy forced herself to pause for a second so that she did not sound too keen. She did not want to be seen as selfish, only concerned with keeping her place of work. That was a large part of it; Daisy could not deny that she did not want to lose the amazing position that she held with the Roberts family, but it was also about Mary and her happiness.
The Lady was sweet; she deserved true happiness.
“You think you might want to marry him? You think your father was correct?”
As Mary turned to look at Daisy, her heart froze in her chest. Maybe her keenness had shone through without her intending it to. But then the Lady’s face shone like the sunshine was pouring out of it, and she relaxed.
“I think my father did a much better job than I gave him credit for. I think Edmund might well be the one that I marry. I believe that we might even be happy together. He is kind, and he also makes me laugh
which is something that I never expected. I did not know that business-focused men also liked to have some fun … maybe that was just me being naïve.”
Daisy clapped her hands together gleefully before she leapt forward to embrace her friend. She did so with much more ease than Mary could ever manage, which Mary assumed had to be down to the class that she was born into. She held onto her and celebrated internally. This was incredible news and needed to be treated as such.
“I am so happy for you,” Daisy murmured into her hair. “You deserve to have such a wonderful life.”
“Thank you so much; that is very kind of you.”
Mary was touched; she could not believe how lucky she was. Daisy sounded genuinely happy for her, and while she was aware that a part of that would be to do with her job, she could also tell that some of it was real.
As Daisy pulled back, Mary was still smiling, but as the maid got back to work and eventually left her bedroom so she could rise from the bed in her own time, that happiness fell away. It did not matter to Mary how wonderful things were going for her, she could not get over her sister’s sadness. That was always there, playing in the back of her mind.
Mary forced herself to stand, and she padded across the bedroom to the window where she stared out over the land that surrounded her family home. Her brain wrestled inside her head. One part of her wanted to return to the dream about Edmund; she wanted to get back to that imagined kiss and the wonderful declarations of love to see where they might lead, but the other side of her, the more powerful part of her brain could only think about Charlotte.
That sadness in her eyes, that true fear … she is going through a very terrible time.
Mary tried to think back to when Charlotte got married; she tried to recall whether her sister was looking forward to the day or not, but she could not remember anything. She was young at the time, and a lot had happened since such as their father’s passing. It was just not something she could remember the details of. She wished that she could, and she felt like it was something that could help her right now, but her brain would not let her do it.
If only there were something that she could do. If only she could sneak to Charlotte’s home in the middle of the night to steal her away and keep her safe. Maybe she had not mentioned it, but Mary had not forgotten about the bruises that she saw on her sister’s body. Lord Jones never seemed like the sort of man to be violent, but she could never tell what went on behind closed doors. Injuries like that did not come from nowhere.
What should I do? She glanced up at the sky as if someone was going to somehow give her an answer to her desperate plea. How should I help Charlotte and her unborn child? No one wants a child to grow up in such a toxic situation. There has to be something that I can do; I cannot just do nothing while she suffers in silence. But what can I do?
Of course, Mary did not get any answers. She was left more helpless than before. The only real solution she kept coming back to was the same one as before. She needed to marry the Duke to ensure that she inherited the house. She needed the house; she needed that security. She needed to give Charlotte somewhere to go if that was what she wanted, and marriage was the perfect solution to that.
It was just lucky that now it was something that she actually liked the idea of.
As she thought of that idea, Mary was not considering what Lord Jones would do if he found his young wife missing. She did not consider how society would take the news of her running away but remaining in London. All that she cared about was getting her sister far away from him. She did not want her to be in a place where he could ever put his hands on her again. Charlotte did not deserve that.
All that Mary could do was persevere and hope that one day a proposal would come in one way or another. She did not know how it would work; as far as she was concerned, it was rather uncommon for parents to make such requests from beyond the grave, but it had to occur somehow. She felt certain that it would now.
If Edmund felt anything like she did right now, he would be keen for things to progress just as much as she was. He would be looking forward to their wedding day and everything that came afterwards.
Mary wrapped her arms tightly around herself and held onto that warmth deep in her chest. She had never felt so much love swimming around in her before, and it left her with what felt like a lot of pent-up energy that she did not know what to do with. She wanted to skip and jump and run … she wanted to fill her day with something incredible while she waited for Edmund to come back for her, just as he promised that he would.
But first, before she did anything, she needed to get dressed. She could not stand around in her nightwear all day long; it simply would not do.
Chapter 13
Edmund could barely contain himself. Ever since he shared that intense moment with Mary at the bookshelf, he had been absolutely certain. He knew now that this was the woman that he could love, that he would share a long and happy life with, just like his mother and father had when he was alive.
“What are you doing, Son?” Iris asked him as she found him pacing the floor of the drawing room with his hands behind his back as if he were plotting some large business deal. “You look very fraught. Is there something going on?”
She hunched up her shoulders, preparing for what she assumed would be a long and slightly dull conversation about something to do with a ship or a trade deal, but what she got instead relaxed her and filled her with glee.
“I wish to marry Lady Mary Roberts,” he told her as if it was obvious. Iris had suspected that things would go this way, but it was wonderful to get the confirmation. She knew that her son needed to be happy, and she hoped that this would be the first step towards that. “But I do not know how I should go about it. It is not a typical matter, is it?”
“No, I suppose not.” Iris paused thoughtfully. “Without her father around, I do not know what the next step should be. Plus, I do not think that you can ask her directly because of the clause in the will.”
“Yes.” Edmund waved his hands towards his mother. “You are right. That makes it all the more confusing. I do not know how to address this situation. I want to do things right because I know she would like to organise her inheritance properly.”
“So, maybe you should send a letter to the gentleman in charge of the will?” Iris offered. “Maybe he is the point of contact.”
Edmund screwed up his nose; he did not like that plan at all. Anything that allowed Walter more power than he should have over their relationship, he did not like. Then again, it was the right thing to do if he wanted to be respectful. William Roberts had left Walter in charge of his will for a reason. If he trusted him, then maybe Edmund needed to as well.
“Yes, I think you might be right,” he finally said agreeably. “That is what I shall do.”
It did not feel very romantic. Edmund was sure that Mary deserved romance, but this was the way it had to go. Maybe afterwards, once all the practical arrangements were sorted out, he would go to her with a ring and ask her properly. That was not the way that things were necessarily done, but he wanted to give Mary some adventure.
“You should go and write it now,” Iris encouraged him. “You have time this morning, do you not?”
“I suppose so.” Edmund wanted to get started with the marriage arrangements. Now that he had made up his mind about Mary, he could not wait for her to be his wife. This was just a practical hump to overcome. “Yes, you are right. I shall do it now.”
Iris did not say it aloud, but internally she cheered. Her husband died before she got a chance to have any more children which was a shame because she loved being a mother. Now, maybe she could have her second chance at being a grandmother. It would not be exactly the same, but it would be close enough. Maybe it would even be better. As she imagined it, she could almost feel the bundle of joy forming in her arms.
“That is a great plan, Edmund. I am terribly proud of you.”
With a smile, he left the room and walked towards his offic
e where he kept all of his writing equipment. As he moved, he considered how amazing it was that he had found someone that he could truly have feelings for. In the back of his mind, he always felt that he was asking for too much wanting what his mother and father shared. Now, he had found it. Or at least the beginnings of it. He was the luckiest man alive.
Edmund whistled to himself as he pushed the door to his office open. Inside, he stared at the same four walls where he always locked himself away to get his paperwork done. The white of the walls was the same, and the mahogany desk with the matching coloured chair had never changed, nor had the desk lamp … but now everything felt that much more pleasant to look at. The bookshelf behind his desk contained just some of the literature that both he and Mary shared a love for.
Edmund moved over to the books before he took his seat at the desk, and he tugged out his own copy of Frankenstein. The pages were battered and well worn from the countless times that he had read the book, and now he felt the incredible urge to read through it again. It did not matter that he could pretty much remember every single word; he wanted it fresh in his mind for when he discussed it with Mary again.
He thumbed the pages, inhaling that smell that could only come from a book, and he grinned. This was just one more piece of confirmation that he was making the right decision.
Edmund gently placed the book on his desk so that he could look at it as he wrote what promised to be the most complex letter of his life. Or maybe it would be easy. Maybe once he started writing, the words would flow. He would not know until he got started.
He pulled out a blank piece of paper and delicately spread it in front of him. Then he grabbed his quill and dipped it into the blackest ink that he had. He needed Walter to know that he was serious when he finally opened it.
‘Dearest Mr Walter Thompson,’ he started carefully. He took the time to craft each letter perfectly on the page in the best handwriting that he could manage. ‘I am writing to you again today with some news. Good news, I believe.’