Part Twelve

 

 

 

Please marry me. Those words resonated through Harry’s head.

He had climbed out of her bed as the first daylight had filtered into her room. Before the sun and the servants had fully risen.

Please marry me.

Had she meant those words? Had they come from her heart and not from the embers of passion?

Please marry me.

He rose from his own bed early, shaved himself, and dressed. He expected the breakfast room to be empty, but it was not; Drew and Mary occupied it. They had been laughing over something when he walked in.

“May I have a sheet of paper from you? I wish to send a letter. And may I ask one of your men to take it to the post?”

“Of course.” Drew stood. “The paper is in the library, and all else that you will need. I will show you.”

Harry felt odd today—twisted out of shape.

Drew’s arm settled about his shoulders for a moment as they walked from the room, then it dropped away. “Who are you writing to?”

“Emily’s father.”

Drew walked beside him. There was no excited exclamation. But Drew knew him well enough to spot a day that Harry was out of spirits.

“That is a surprisingly quick progression.”

Harry smiled. Last night, after the women had retired to their beds, he and Drew had talked. He had not said that Emily had invited him into her bed, only that things had been progressing well and at a surprising pace. They had changed the subject after that.

“I hope so.”

“I hope so, too. For you both.”

All the time they had continued talking and drinking last evening, sitting in the chairs in the drawing room, there had been a warm, heavy sensation low in Harry’s stomach. It had known Emily was awaiting him in bed in her room. While Mary must have awaited Drew in theirs.

Harry had understood for the first time what marriage might be like. How it might feel to be married to Emily.

He had proposed to her at her home out of a hunger to have her as his; he’d spoken out of want, without understanding. Now he understood exactly what he was asking for. What he wanted.

Drew pulled the paper from a drawer, lay it on his desk and then pointed to the other things Harry needed, before leaving Harry alone.

Harry’s hand trembled as the quill scratched out the letters in ink.

He begged her father’s pardon, but he had now cleared his debts and was in a position to offer for Emily. He wished for her father’s permission to do so. He hoped that her father could see past his initial dislike and consider Harry’s suit because Harry had a considerable affection for his daughter and never wished to see her hurt.

He blotted the letter, folded it, then slipped it into an envelope and wrote her father’s address. Then he carried the letter out into the hall. A footman stood there.

“Please take this to the village and have it sent in the post.” Harry withdraw coins from his pocket, and gave them to the man, for the cost of the stamp and his time.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you.” He nodded at the man then crossed the hall to return to his breakfast.

His mood refused to lift, though. This meant too much to him. She meant too much to him.

Please marry me.

In Devizes, if she had said yes, then he would have married her and said nothing of his past. Yet now the truth hung over him like a dark storm cloud. He wanted her to know. He wished her to know everything about him. If she married him, he wanted her to marry the man he was, with all his faults—regardless of his faults.

He wished her to know why he was estranged from his family.

They had turned their backs…

Perhaps it was a test. Perhaps that was why it was suddenly so important.

But… Please marry me.

Then he would know if she did care enough for him to really mean those words.

 

~

 

Emily walked out into the garden. They had eaten luncheon together on the lawn. A small sort of picnic, the six of them, Caro, Drew, Mary, her and Harry, with George, who had succeeded in walking five steps unaided, to receive a cheer from everyone other than Harry. But Harry had been very quiet. He’d been quiet during breakfast too. In fact, he’d scarcely said one sentence in her hearing all day. She had become worried; he was so silent.

She had come looking for him, now that Mary, George, and Caro had all chosen to retire to their rooms and Drew to the library. Harry had not come in when they had. He was still in the garden somewhere.

“Harry!” she called across the lawn. She could not see him.

She walked across the paving near the house, and was about to walk over the lawn, in the direction of the woodland path, when she saw him. He was sitting on a stone bench against the wall of the house, with his back resting against the wall. “Harry…” she said more quietly. “What are you doing?”

He had been looking at her, and his eyes watched as she walked towards him. “I am thinking,” he answered eventually as she neared him.

“About…” She sat down beside him, her fingers clasping together and dropping into her lap.

“About you.”

“And that makes you maudlin, because you have been looking maudlin all day and it is unlike you. You have worried me. I do not like seeing you like this.”

He reached out and her hands separated so that he might hold one. His warm naked hand held hers. She wrapped her fingers about his, looking at the union.

“I would like to ask you to marry me again.”

She looked at him, her heart suddenly swelling and pumping harder as she awaited his next words.

“But there are things you should know about me first. Things that are not easy to say.”

She swallowed. Her throat had dried. She wanted him to ask. “Tell me, what things? I will listen.”

His eyes held the same sadness she had seen on the day he’d walked out of her parents’ house.

“I am estranged from my family. My brother is a baron, but we do not speak. I cannot offer you a connection to the breeding of old money, Emily.”

“I do not care.”

He did not listen to her response but continued. “I had debts, I have not lived wisely, but Drew has paid them off for me. It does not mean that I am hugely wealthy, though. I have five-hundred a year; I am not rich as Peter is rich.”

“I would not wish to marry you for wealth, I have given up the error of that idea.”

“Emily, please, just listen to me. There is more to say. I… My family… I…” He breathed in deeply. “I have no idea how to say this.” Her hand gripped his tighter. “I… I… Was assaulted, as a child. A young child.”

She felt a frown carving lines into her brow. That was not what she had expected to hear. How?

“You see, there was this tutor. He taught my brothers and I, but when I was naughty he would make me do things…” His Adam’s apple shifted up and down as he swallowed, and his eyes began to glitter. “Bad things, Emily. Wrong things. He would tell me to do them and threaten to tell my father that I had been bad if I did not do them. I do not speak to my family because my father discovered what was happening and he blamed it upon me. I was shut in my room and fed bread and milk for a week, and then I was sent to school. I never returned home. Not once. I met Drew, Peter, and Mark, and I always found a way to stay away from home through the holidays. I will not have anything to do with them. I am sure my brothers knew what was happening too, but they had done nothing to stop it.”

She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms about his neck, just holding him as he’d held her the first night he’d come to her bed. “I am sorry.”

“You were nothing to do with that crime.” His arms surrounded her and his cheek rested against her hair.

“But I am sorry it happened.”

He did not answer.

She wanted him to ask the question he’d said he wanted to ask.

“I told you,” he said against her hair, “because I need you to know the true me. That has left scars in me. I hid the pain with humour as a child, and then the humour became a habit. If… If you will marry me, then you should know. There are days when I am maudlin, days I hide away.” He breathed in, letting go of her. But then he held her hands as he looked her in the eyes. “Would you have that man as a husband? Will you marry me now? Have you changed your mind?”

Her fingers squeezed his. “Yes, Harry, I have changed my mind since you asked me at home. Yes. I will marry you.”

A crease pinched between his eyebrows. “Truly?”

“You cannot ask me and then refuse to believe the answer. Yes. I will marry you. Truly.”

“Oh, Lord, Emily. Good Lord.” His hands braced her head and then his lips were on hers, and the kiss was as powerful and sudden as the first kiss behind the tree in the garden at home. Her arms lifted to rest on his shoulders.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “Good Lord, Emily. Am I dreaming?”

“No.”

“May we tell Drew and Mary?”

A smile pulled at her lips. “Yes.” She loved to see him so happy, and she had made him happy.

“Come along then.” He stood up as he spoke, and grasped hold of one of her hands. “We shall tell Drew first, he is in the library.” His hand held hers tightly, but gently and protectively as he walked her back into the house. “We shall be happy, shan’t we?” he said, stopping before the library door.

She nodded. “We shall be.” It was strange to be the one reassuring Harry.

He opened the door. “Drew!”

Drew looked up as Harry walked her in, gripping her hand, and he lifted her hand as though that was his evidence. “We are engaged!”

“You are?” Drew stood up, looking from Harry to Emily. “My goodness that was quick. Although I doubt it feels so to Harry. Congratulations.” He walked across the room, holding out a hand to take hers. She offered it to him, he kissed the back of her fingers. “I am thrilled for you. I know you shall be happy now.” He turned to Harry.

They embraced each other. Did he know about Harry’s past? She would not ask. She would never make Harry speak of it unless he wished to. She had seen how difficult it was for him to say.

When he let go of Drew, their eyes glistened.

Mary had told her; he is like Drew too. Yes. Harry was like Drew. He would love and care for her with the same depth that Drew did Mary. Emily had found her happy ending. She had no need to be envious of Mary now. She had Harry.

“We must tell Mary.” Drew turned to the door.

“There is no need to wake her,” Emily said.

“Nonsense, she will want to be woken by such news.”

And so Mary was called for, and champagne. Then they spent their afternoon drinking the bubbly wine, and laughing. It felt very homely and natural. It felt correct in a way that her engagement to Peter had never felt.

When Harry came to her room later, in the dark, he held her as they whispered about their wedding.

“We will marry in St George’s, in London. I shall ensure you have the wedding you desire. There will be a fuss made over you, I will insist upon it. Though I will not invite my family, there will be a Duke in attendance, we shall invite Mary’s family.”

She laughed, and burrowed further into his embrace.