A Lady's Fate

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Edmund

Edmund's heart pounded in time with the beat of his horse's hooves as they thundered down the road towards Alverton Hall. One hand grasped firmly at his stallion's reins; the other was wrapped around Mary's limp shoulder, clutching her tight to his chest to prevent her from swaying with the motion of the horse's lithe, powerful body.

He despised how helpless and fragile she looked; it was not a state he was accustomed to seeing her in, and it was his doing only which had caused her this pain. She would surely be catching a chill in her thin cotton gown, but Edmund was fearful of placing his overcoat about her shoulders, for it was still slightly damp from the torrential rain he had ridden through earlier that afternoon.

How could he call himself a chivalrous gentleman, when he had neglected the person he cared for more than any other in the world?

Time and again, Edmund returned to the moment he had turned his back on Mary beside the fountain at Alverton Hall, storming off to the stables before riding out into the pouring rain. Each time he replayed the scene in his mind, so grew his dismay and vexation with himself for ever having left her in such a way. 

She had infuriated him beyond belief; to such an extent that he knew he had to take his leave as soon as possible, for fear of truly losing his temper. How could she have believed him to be so despicable? Had all the time they had spent becoming acquainted over the festive period truly given her so little insight into his character?

Edmund had felt betrayed, certainly – he was indeed vexed with Mary for deceiving him for such a length of time. He was vexed, however, not because he no longer cared for her now that he knew her true station in life; but rather, because he cared too much.

Although it had long been hoped that he and Lady Helena would marry, Edmund had never truly imagined what it would be like to be her husband. With Mary, however, his mind had begun to stray towards the rather terrifying prospect of asking her to become his wife. He had never met someone as full of life as Mary, nor – he had thought – someone so genuine. Both were qualities Edmund found very endearing, bringing him to the conclusion that he would, indeed, ask for Mary's hand in marriage upon her return to Alverton.

Upon discovering Mary to be a maid, Edmund had watched in horror as all his dreams shattered around him. Mary's true identity changed nothing in the way he viewed her – if anything, it made him admire her all the more for her resilience and strength – but society would not view it the same way. If he and Mary were to marry, society would eschew them with a firm hand. Edmund would no doubt lose his title and any future inheritance, leaving him with no funds with which to provide for Mary and their future children. And what sort of husband would that make him?

These tortured thoughts had swirled violently around Edmund's head as he pounded across the sodden ground, almost blinded by the torrential downpour which the frequent gusts of wind whipped across his face. His anger carried him most of the way to Chester – but just as he reached the outskirts of the city, Edmund had found his heart softening.

Mary had masqueraded as her mistress not for any selfish reason, he realised – it had been an entirely unselfish move to protect the true Miss Thorpe. Now that reality had been given an opportunity to sink in, Edmund found himself experiencing a great deal of admiration for Mary and her willingness to navigate the unspoken rules and etiquette of polite society, despite having never been bred for it.

As his anger with Mary subsided, Edmund's anger with society had only increased. Who were the gentlemen and ladies of English society to dictate to whom his heart should belong? And what knew they of love? The only marriages they knew how to form were those of monetary advantage and social gain. This was what marriage to Lady Helena would have brought; but Lady Helena had showed Edmund that it need not be this way.