My Dearest Darling

Chapter 9

She could feel the tears stinging in her eyes, the wet stains still lingering on her cheeks. She was aware that her face must be flushed, with red blotchy spots visible on her otherwise pale skin.

Mary had always been an ugly crier, which is why she avoided it at all costs, especially when around others. She much preferred keeping her emotions to herself, only letting go of her inhibitions in the comfort of her bedroom at night when nobody else could see or hear her. She did not want to be seen as a weak woman, no matter by whom.

Lady Mary Talbot wasn't a weak woman, everybody knew that. They all thought her tough, maybe even unemotional at times. If only they knew how deeply she felt all these things, but how could they when she usually hid it all so well? No, it wouldn't do for others to see her like that, not at all.

Quickly, she went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face and maybe get rid of some of the treacherous stains on her face before Anna came to get her ready for bed. Not even her lady's maid had ever seen her like this. She had seen her shed a tear here and there, but she had never witnessed this.

Just when Mary had washed her face, Anna's voice rang out in her bedroom: "Milady?"

"Just a second, Anna!" Mary replied through the door she had left slightly ajar. She looked around her bathroom, trying to spy a towel to dry her face. Luckily, the maids had not taken all the towels that day to be washed and she took the one they left to pat her face dry.

Anna Bates was patiently waiting near Mary's big bed when she entered, neatly folding her silken pyjamas and the cream-coloured nightgown on top of her red bedding.

"Is everything alright, my Lady?" she asked when she caught sight of her as she entered the bedroom.

"Of course, yes," Mary replied hurriedly, feeling caught. She knew she shouldn't, there was nothing wrong with being emotional every now and then, but she did feel bad about it. No doubt, Anna would soon ask her again and she knew that she could not deny anything being the matter one more time. Not with everything in her life going so terribly wrong.

After eyeing her with a concerned look, Anna did exactly as Mary anticipated. "No, there is something deeply upsetting you. At the risk of being impertinent, but what is it? You know you can tell me anything, I'd never tell a soul," she said, her tone gentle and worried.

Mary felt a pang in her chest at the compassion the smaller woman had always shown her, and she felt the tears accumulating in her eyes again. She had always been treated so exceptionally well by the maid only a few years older than her. There were only very few people she trusted as much as she trusted Anna. With a sigh, Mary decided to tell her of the horrible news that put her in this state.

"I really shouldn't be telling you. But I assume that Mister Bates already knows, or at least I suspect he will when he returns from America, so there can't be too much harm in telling you now. I can only beg you to keep this from the others, as it is not really my tale to tell."

"Of course, milady. Nothing of what you say will leave this room, I promise."

Mary nodded and stood near her vanity. While she and Anna went about the business of getting her ready for bed, she told her about her mother's illness and the decision she had made.

"And his Lordship was certain that she will not change her mind about the treatment plan?"

"He was, yes. I am sure that he doesn't appreciate me saying this, but I have never seen him like this. Just getting the words out was so painful for him, and I cannot imagine how he must be feeling. They have been married almost forty years and she only tells him of this decision she made because of the doctor's visit. I think it would have been much easier on him had she told him before then, but she had not. Papa has never cried in front of us, truly never. He was always this calm and collected man in the face of such things, he kept it all in, but not tonight. I guess one just cannot when faced with a situation like this one. Granny has passed only a few weeks ago and now he has to come to terms with losing Mama as well."

"That seems to be the price people pay when marrying someone they love, it makes situations like these so much harder to bear. I remember when my father died — my mother only kept going because she needed to take care of us children, we were too little to fend for ourselves or even help her. I don't know what she would have done had he died more slowly and not as suddenly as he did. She never spoke of my father again after he died, she said she couldn't whenever we asked about him, especially not after she had married her second husband."

While Anna spoke, Mary took a seat at her vanity, fully dressed in her pyjamas and nightgown. She watched as Anna was folding her clothes while taking off the last of her jewellery to be put away for the night. Her gaze dropped down to the rings in the palm of her hand and then wandered over to the small wooden box with the soft velvety inlay she was about to drop them into. There were two other rings there, rings she had worn years ago, when life seemed so much easier and simpler — because of him. Mary froze mid-action, her mind showing her scenes from a life that seemed so fundamentally different to the one she led now.

"Milady?"

"Oh Anna, why must love be so complicated, and why must death be so cruel and final?" she asked while reaching for the rings she had been looking at. Mary inspected the wedding and engagement rings, both of which she had not worn for nearly as long as she would have wanted. Her darling husband had tragically been taken from her long before either of their time should have come. Maybe they could have made it to forty happy years of marriage, like her parents, or maybe even longer. It would have been such a good life, and she would have had him to lean on whenever she needed him, she was so sure of that.

"If only I knew an answer to that. Have you heard from your husband recently, is he coming back for the holidays this year?"

Anna hoped to steer the topic of their conversation in the direction of one that would cause her mistress less pain than her Ladyship's health. Maybe, though, that was not her wisest decision that night.

"I don't know, I haven't heard anything from him since the telegram that arrived the day before the funeral," Mary replied, avoiding her maid's eyes.

"He has been rather distant this past year, hasn't he?"

"I think he rather has. One should think that seeing his daughter might have been reason enough to at least visit once, but apparently it is not. He has no idea what is going on here, how everything is different to when he left. I doubt he even cares."

The tone of her voice was flat, she sounded so defeated, as if this thought had crossed her mind more often than she would have liked to admit. When she looked back up at Anna, her eyes were filled with tears yet again. That seemed to be a recurring thing that night.

The maid dressed in her usual black clothes walked closer again, saying: "Oh, I doubt that, milady. He might just be very busy with his work and once he comes back, he will be there for all of you again. He loves you."

"I am not sure that he does, his actions show differently, Anna. Honestly, when I married him I hoped I would finally find some happiness again, but I was wrong. I have not found happiness the way I felt it with Matthew, and I doubt I ever will. Nothing can compare to what we had together after everything we went through. He was all I could have ever hoped for and more and sometimes I wonder if I jinxed it, our marriage and our lives."

Mary was twisting and turning the rings in her hands, looking at the simplicity of the gold wedding band and then at the splendour of her first engagement ring with the beautiful stones. Looking up at Anna, she was met with an inquiring expression.

"Do you remember the night before the wedding, when Matthew and Tom as his best man were suddenly knocking on the door after the fight I had had with Matthew, how I questioned whether there would even be a wedding? You and Tom left us to talk after we promised not to look at each other. I wanted to obey my own condition to keep with tradition, I truly did. We kissed that night before he left again, he kept his eyes closed the entire time like he promised, but I did not. When we parted, I looked at him. Only very briefly, but I did. I sometimes wonder if there is more to this superstition of not seeing each other before the wedding than I thought, I wonder if I truly am the source of all the misfortune that has ever befallen me and those around me."

"I doubt that, my Lady. It is just that, a superstition. Why should looking at the man you love be the reason his car crashed a year later? It was just so incredibly unlucky that the cars happened to both be meeting at that narrow point. You are not the reason for any of that, nobody is."