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princess-geek · 2 months ago

Text

White Peonies (Part II)

Book: Desire & Decorum

Series: Unspoken Desires (Modern Desire & Decorum AU)

Summary: Another peek into the past, this time to lift the veil on Mary’s life and three generations of fascinating women of the Howard family. (Parte I here)

Main Pairing: Vincent Foredale x Mary Howard.

Word Count: +/- 7572 words

Rating: General (but with light mentions to adult/violent situations, sickness and death).

Notes: 💖English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors. 💖Special thanks to @rosesnink for proofreading.

💖 This is my submission for @choicesficwriterscreations ‘Fics of the week’

On the previous chapter...

Hurting her finger, Mary snatched the ring and threw it at him. Her hand was bleeding, but what were a few scratches on a finger compared with the abyss that he had opened in her heart?

Vincent took the ring from the floor. “Mary, my love, please, don’t do this.”

“Don’t dare to call me that ever again! Get out of my house! Now!”

Vincent did as she had told him. Tears ran down his face as he collected his belongings. She couldn't look at him.

As soon as he closed the door, Mary collapsed, crying her pain and screaming her fury.

The young woman lost count of the hours she spent in that dark hole. When Mary came to her senses, she looked out the window and saw that it was a starry night.

Her whole body hurt. As for her heart, Mary wasn't sure if it was there or not. She felt frozen. With great effort, she dragged herself from the floor to the sofa, covering herself with a blanket forgotten on the floor. It was impossible to return to the same bed where hours before they had worshipped each other and pledged their love.

Mary didn't know if she had slept or not, but in the morning, she felt desperately hungry, despite not feeling like eating. She tried to eat a couple of biscuits; however, her stomach didn’t hold them for long.

At some point in the day, she heard Vincent at her door. He stayed there for hours, begging her to listen to him. Fortunately, a neighbour threatened to call the police if he didn't leave, and Vincent eventually did. This happened repeatedly all week.

For days, Mary barely moved from the couch. When her tears dried up until the next round, lethargy took over her.

Around the weekend, Mrs. Lemay could persuade Mary to open the door. Although she had not read the article on Sunday, articles about the upcoming wedding multiplied in the newspapers over the week.

She found her friend a wreck. Mrs. Lemay was not going to allow the young girl to sink into heartbreak. She made Mary have a bath, changed the bedsheets, and cooked her a proper dinner.

“Luckily, there is not a word about you. At least, you will not be publicly persecuted by this shadow forever.” Mrs. Lemay tried to console her.

“Screw my reputation.” Mary mumbled between spoons of soup.

“Vincent was in my office looking for you, desperate for any information about your whereabouts.”

“Screw him too! He was at my door several times. I am not interested in anything he has to say.”

Thinking that it might bring Mary some peace, Mrs. Lemay told her that there were rumours going around that the Foredale were broke and the marriage was purely a business deal, despite the excitement about the engagement in the magazines.

“She’s a fat cat widow. It’s the tale as old as time: She gives the money, and he gives the title.” Mrs. Lemay concluded.

“It's always nice to know I am worth less than a couple of thousand pounds.”

“If the rumours are true, he is being sold as a horse. It’s a pity.” Mary mumbled something unintelligible. “I know you are hurt and furious, I’d be too.” Mrs. Lemay continued. “Nevertheless, this is all very odd, Mary. Vincent is in love with you in a way I've seen few people in love with someone. Since that night at St. James's, I have seen nothing in him but devotion to you. He'd rather lose an arm than make a scratch on you. I can't stop thinking there has to be a reasonable explanation for this.”

“Of course there is. In that case, there are thousands of reasons… in her bank account.” Mary sulked.

“He was not convinced when I claimed I couldn't help him. I’m sure he will keep trying to reach you, and I think you should give him a chance to explain himself. You might regret it if you don't,” Mrs. Lemay insisted.

“He betrayed my trust in him. I think I would rather have caught him in bed with her than this circus. He has been playing with me for months, like I was a doll. I won't be his or anyone else's doll.” Mary was adamant.

“Anger and pain are not good advisors. You need to clear your head. Why don't you go spend a few days in your hometown? Some days away from London will help you organise your head and heart.”

“I will not change my mind.”

“You may not change your mind, but you need to think about what you're going to do from now on. Life doesn't stop just because your heart is broken.”

Following her advice, Mary decided to spend a few weeks in Grovershire.

Mrs. Lemay was right. Leaving London didn't glue the pieces of her heart together. However, focusing on making repairs to her grandparents' cottage and garden made Mary find some serenity in the midst of the chaos.

That house was full of so many good memories that even sadness gave her some respite.

While she was cleaning up things in the kitchen, Mary found her grandmother's handmade 'Moka'. It was one of the few things that Elena had brought with her from Italy.

“I only had three things in my suitcase: an old coat, the 'Moka' and the recipe book that I stole from my mother.” Elena told her granddaughter many times.

When she was a little girl, Mary fascinatedly watched her grandmother prepare coffee there, as if it were a magical ritual. Her favourite part was sucking on the spoon after Elena added the sugar.

It was the best coffee in the world, and Mary could still almost taste it. She ran to the grocery store to buy coffee beans. Replicating her grandmother's ritual made her feel really good for the rest of that day.

Grovershire itself had little changed. Mary missed many familiar faces and came face-to-face with new ones in the neighbourhood.

The new and old neighbours were curious about her extended stay, and, of course, theories about it soon emerged through the inhabitant’s small talk. To avoid uncomfortable questions, Mary said that her fiancé, Vincent Ford, had died in a car accident, and she was spending some time there to get herself together.

Although it was a hoax, for her it was not entirely a lie. She really felt that the man she loved had died on that day.

Right across the street, George Daly, her former classmate and neighbour, had married Pavarti, an Indian girl who had arrived there in their final year of high school.

They weren't very close at that time, yet Pavarti was the first to go to the cottage to visit her. Although she was in the last trimester of her pregnancy, Pavarti helped in whatever way she could, especially in the garden.

Between pulling weeds and planting flowers, there was time for long conversations. A deep friendship blossomed between the two young women. Pavarti was the only one who knew the truth about Vincent.

George spent many days away because of his work, so it was common for them to cook together. One late afternoon, Pavarti was cooking dinner. Mary suddenly left the kitchen, without saying a word. Pavarti found her on the balcony.

“If you don't feel like my fish curry and chips, just say so, you don’t need to run away from my kitchen. I have some roast lamb from the weekend in the fridge...”

“I'm sorry, Pavarti, but I think I'll have dinner. I think the tea house's chocolate cake wasn't as fresh as it should have been.”

“Are you sure it was just the chocolate cake? You barely touched it. In fact, you have barely eaten.”

“Nerves are bad for my stomach. It has always happened to me since I was little.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

“I don’t know exactly, maybe for a few weeks now. Not just the stomach. Everything in me has been messed up since...that day.” Mary still had difficulties referring to the topic.

“Have you considered the possibility of being pregnant?” Mary looked at Pavarti as if she had uttered the most absurd of statements. Parvati went away for a while and came back with a small box in her hand. “Take it! You can do it here or at home, but the sooner you know, the better.”

After spending most of the night looking at the little box, Mary did so. After the time stated in the instructions, the result appeared. She was so nervous that it took her some time to understand the meaning of the two lines.

Becoming a mother was one of Mary’s dreams. They had planned a family. They joked about having a child born in that millennium and the next in the new one. They agreed on almost everything except where they would raise them. London was off the table.

Now that dream was real, and Vincent wasn't there. And for the first time, she didn't want him there either.

This was no longer just about her and her broken heart. On the one hand, she was terrified. It was impossible not to think about her mother's case. More than raising a baby alone, Mary was afraid that something would happen and prevent her from taking care of him or her. Unfortunately, the child would not be as lucky as she was. There were no loving grandparents to watch over her. On the other hand, finding out that a child was on the way was an unexpected comfort to her. No matter what twists and turns life had on its sleeve for her, Mary wouldn't be alone anymore.

The blood tests confirmed her calculations. The baby would be born around November.

“When will you tell the father the good news?” Pavarti asked her some days later.

“I will not tell him.”

“You should, and, deep down, you know you should. Who knows, maybe this is an opportunity for the two of you to find a way...”

“If our love was not important enough for him to care and come to me and give a decent explanation for what happened, then I don't consider him important enough to be part of the baby's life.”

“You are the one who didn't want to give him that opportunity!” Pavarti tried to reason with Mary.

Mary knew she was contradicting herself, but the young woman was irreducible. Her wounded heart and pride only fuelled her stubbornness. “The wedding will be on May 2nd, do you think there is any point in doing or saying anything, Pavarti?”

Mary told Mrs. Lemay about her new situation. Although Mary's absence caused her inconvenience and money loss, she was the first to advise the singer to take a break to take care of the baby and herself.

The music producers were not very happy with the news. Even though without stating it clearly, they implied that if the baby was her priority at the moment, she would lose the 'privileged place she had on their artists’ list'.

Mary imagined that would happen. A woman with a baby was the eighth plague of Egypt. Now that she was so close, she was going back to square one.

Baby Briar came into the world on Easter Sunday, keeping her busy while Pavarti recovered from the tough labour. Around that time, the symptoms of the first few weeks gave her a truce, and Mary began to feel better.

The most difficult thing was the ban on coffee. When she felt like drinking coffee, Mary opened the ground coffee pot and smelled it until it satisfied her craving.

Days later, when trying to put on her jeans, Mary became aware of her belly for the first time. It wasn't very prominent yet, but it was already noticeable that things were changing.

By the end of the month, Mary went to London for a few days. With the wedding so close, it would be very unlikely that Vincent would be there.

She had her first ultrasound. Hearing her baby's heartbeat for the first time made her worries disappear for a few minutes. She would never forget that beat.

The midwife noticed that Mary was looking worriedly at the white spots that were appearing on the screen. “Don't worry, my dear, the baby is fine. With a little luck, within a few days, we'll be able to find out the baby's gender. Let me guess: You want a boy, and the father wants a girl.” She smiled.

Mary pretended she didn't hear the question. The midwife took her hand and placed it on her belly. “You two are already a wonderful family.”

Her savings wouldn't last forever, so Mary took the opportunity to give some concerts that Mrs. Lemay had arranged for her.

Returning to her flat after a concert, Mary found a man in a suit at her door. He was tall, had grey hair and a beard, and had a stern face. She recognised the same shade of blue as Vincent's eyes, but instead of his sweetness, Mary only saw coldness.

She instinctively covered her belly with her handbag and took a few steps back. Two men grabbed her.

“Good evening, Mary Howard. I've been looking for you everywhere. I would like to say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, but I hope this is the first and last time we meet.”

“What do you want from me?” Mary tried to free herself from their arms.

“Put her inside.” The Earl commanded.

While one grabbed Mary tightly, the other found the key and opened the door. They dragged her inside and locked the door. She tried to shout, but a hand covered her mouth.

“I thought that if I saw you with my own eyes, I would understand my son's fascination, but you are not even that pretty.” He mocked, as his eyes roamed her body. Mary noticed that he saw the bump. She felt a shiver run down her spine. “Are you with a child?” He asked. Mary didn't answer him. She could see his fury rising. “It cannot be my son’s!” Mary remained in silence. The Earl slapped her face with such force that if it weren't for the two men holding her, she would have fallen to the ground. “You damned whore, how dare you get pregnant? Wasn't it enough to be a bastard yourself? I can guess what your plan was, but this ends here!”

For few seconds, Mary could barely hear the insults he spewed from his mouth. Her mouth was still numb from the slap. She felt the taste of blood on her tongue. “My baby will never be a bastard. I will be a mother, a father, and everything my child needs!” She cried.

“I don't care what you or that creature you are carrying will be. You will disappear from my son’s life forever!”

“Breaking news, Rupert Foredale: I'm the one who wants my baby to have nothing to do with your family. Unfortunately, I couldn't prevent this child from having your blood. No baby deserves to have a father who is a coward, a cheater, and liar, and much less such a despicable being like you as a grandfather.”

The Earl was going to slap her again. Luckily, or out of charity, the bodyguards moved her out of the way of his hand.

“I never trusted people like you. With some luck, the baby isn't even Vincent's. I warned my son several times that he could have fun, but not to be foolish. I should be used to his weaknesses by now. When I was young, I also had a lover who was an artist, a sculptress. She was very skilled with her hands...for everything.” A wicked smile appeared on his lips for a moment. “She was my lover and, I later learned, the lover of every young man in London with any money in his pocket.” After saying it, Rupert took some papers from inside his coat. “Listen very carefully to what I will say to you, whore: you will sign the papers and disappear from my son's life forever. As I am a good Christian, in return, you will get 10,000 pounds. If you dare to open that mouth of yours about my son or what happened between you, you will rot in jail!”

Mary spat at the contract. “My dignity is not for sale. And, unlike you, I would never sell a child to pay for my mistakes.”

She was pushing him to the limit. The Earl was blind with rage. He wasn't used to being defied like that. Rupert tore up the agreement. He took a pistol from his pocket and placed it against Mary's forehead.

“This was your last chance. If you or your bastard ever try to get close to us, I won't be so benevolent. I will make you botg disappear from the face of the earth even if I have to do it with my own hands.”

In a matter of seconds, the lights went out, and they dropped Mary on the floor. As quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared into the night.

Mary couldn't believe what just happened. From what Vincent told her, Mary knew that Earl was not a model of kindness, not even towards his own blood. She didn't expect him to rejoice over the baby; However, not even her greatest fears could imagine such brutality.

After the shock of the first few minutes, the adrenaline subsided. She was feeling a very intense pain, but she couldn't pinpoint where it was. Her baby. The panic set in. If something had happened to the baby, she would kill the Earl with her own hands.

Supporting herself against the wall, Mary managed to get up and call Mrs. Lemay. She didn't care about her bruises. Mary just wanted to hear her baby's heartbeat.

Mrs. Lemay called for a favour and rushed Mary to a private clinic. She refused to be examined without knowing if the baby was okay first. The doctor assured Mary that the baby was fine, but she only calmed down when he showed her the baby on the monitor.

He was silent for a few minutes, looking at the small screen. Mary was about to panic again. “What’s wrong, doctor?”

“Don’t worry, Miss. It's nothing bad. Do you know your baby’s gender?” Mary waved no. “I wasn't going to mention it because I am not absolutely sure. I think you are having a girl.”

Upon learning that the baby was fine, Mary went into autopilot mode. Besides the bruises, the doctor found out she had a broken rib. After taking care of her, Mrs. Lemay took the singer to her home. Exhausted, Mary slept for hours. When she awoke, Mrs. Lemay was waiting for her with a light meal.

“What happened was a crime, Mary. You should go to the police.”

“I have no proofs besides my bruises. Who do you think they would believe? An Earl or a pub singer?

“He is dangerous, Mary, and you confronted him!” Mrs. Lemay insisted. “If he was capable of doing this now, there's no guarantee that he won't do it again... or do something worse.”

“He's afraid I will look for his son and ruin his marriage with the widow. I believe that as soon as they get married and the Earl sees I didn’t lift a finger, he will forget about me and my daughter.”

“So, what are you going to do now? London is not safe.”

“I'm going back to Grovershire and staying there for a while. The Earl doesn't know about my grandparents' house, or he would have gone there. It is far enough from London and from them. I need calm and security for my daughter. Then I will see what my next step will be.”

“Have you thought about names for the baby?” Mrs. Lemay asked to change to a happier subject.

“Beatrice.” Mary smiled, caressing her bump. “Vincent would have liked it too.” She couldn't stop herself from thinking about it.

“Why don't you ask him in person?”

“Even if I wanted...which I don’t want...I can’t take that risk now. Even if we survive Rupert Foredale's wrath, you know the fate of the bastard children. My child will not be exiled to a boarding school.”

Mary did as she said. With the help of Mrs. Lemay and other friends from work, all of Mary's (few) belongings were loaded into a van the following night. As Vincent's forgotten objects appeared, Mrs. Lemay discreetly saved them from the trash. She was thinking that perhaps the child would later look for a connection with the father.

Back in Grovershire, Mary kept as low a profile as possible. Trying to camouflage, she began to introduce herself as ‘Helen’. Those who knew her found it strange. Mary justified her choice, saying she was known in London by that name. She had chosen it as a stage name in honour of her grandmother.

People thought it was eccentric, but they eventually got used to it.

Her belly was becoming less and less discreet. Comments on her obvious situation were inevitable, as well as comparisons with her mother's case. The most charitable hearts felt sorry for her situation. Losing her fiancé in a tragic accident and now having a child to take care of... It was a very hard blow from fate.

The poisonous ones were not so compassionate. Their tongues distilled all kinds of gossip about her: that she was a luxury escort in London (the nastiest said directly prostitute), others that she was the rejected lover of a married man, that the child's father was in prison... Mary knew her truth, yet some days weren't easy with that background buzz. Fortunately, she had the Daly’s on her side.

She didn't like perpetuating a lie, but it was the best truth she could tell. It would be better for both the child and her. Like her, Beatrice would not suffer for someone she had never met. Following her grandparents' example, Mary would make sure her daughter received so much love that she wouldn't miss a thing. It would protect her from Rupert and more heartbreak.

The following ultrasounds confirmed that it was a girl and that she was growing strong and healthy.

Meanwhile, Parvati returned to her work as a seamstress. Mary took care of Briar and in return, Pavarti was sewing her a layette fit for a princess.

During the day, between helping out at the Dalys' house and preparing her own for the baby's arrival, neither Mary's head nor her heart had time to worry about the past or the future. However, many of the nights were full of nightmares about Rupert; others were sleepless, planning all possible future scenarios.

On Halloween evening, Mary felt the first contractions. While Pavarti was finishing the hem of a dress, she was playing on the floor with Briar and felt an intense pain that paralysed her. Recognising the signs, Pavarti helped her get up and set her down on the sofa.

That night was just a warning, but on Tuesday early morning, the contractions came back in force. Mary was terrified of what was happening. What the doctor and the midwife had explained, the books she had read, Pavarti's advice...all of her preparation and plans were gone.

George and Pavarti drove her to the hospital.

As the hours passed, the pain increased, becoming intense and almost constant. Despite telling her that she was doing great and that the baby would soon be in her arms, Mary was losing her strength.

During one of the strongest contractions, for the first time in months, she wished Vincent was there beside her. For a few moments, she was filled with a whirlwind of memories with him. She could almost hear his voice smoothing her. Another strong contraction brought her back to reality. There was no use dwelling on the past. Her daughter was all that mattered now.

After hours of pain and fear, at nightfall on November 2, 1994, her daughter was born. Hearing the sweet shrill sound of her daughter's cries was a relief. Having Beatrice in her arms for the first time was a new kind of happiness she never thought possible.

Even though she was ruddy and grumpy like all newborns, in Mary's eyes, Beatrice was the pinnacle of cuteness, with her full cheeks, thick brown hair, and big eyes.

Around midnight, Beatrice fell asleep in her mother's arms. Exhausted, Mary also fell into a deep sleep.

A couple of hours later, she woke up with a start, thinking she heard the baby crying. Everything was quiet in the ward, including her daughter. However, the door was ajar. Mary saw a pair of eyes watching them through the crack. “Who is there?” She asked instinctively, placing herself in front of the crib. The pair of eyes disappeared.

The next morning, after making sure that everything was fine with both of them, the issue of the father inevitably arose. Again, Mary told the best truth she could:  she had met the father at a party, they had spent the night together, and they had never seen each other again. She claimed she didn't know any information about him other than his first name.

While she was trying to breastfeed Beatrice, a social worker with dubious intentions came to talk to her, asking some questions, pointing out the challenges of being a young single mother and the possibility of giving her baby up for adoption.

Mary was about to lose patience with her when the Dalys came in to visit them. The couple promptly shooed the nosy woman away. Pavarti helped Mary dress Beatrice and put a small pink bow on her head. Then, George took the first portrait of Beatrice. 

Briar was very curious about the new baby, whimpering if they moved her away from the crib.

Rocking her daughter by the window, the light illuminated every detail of her features. Mary noticed that Beatrice had a lot of Vincent in her. How she wished she could make Rupert eat his words.

A couple of days later, mother and daughter were back home. “Welcome home, my love.” Mary kissed her daughter's head. “It may not be Buckingham Palace, but we're going to make it our realm.”

As long as she was well fed, Beatrice was (most days) an easy baby. Despite some sleepless nights, the many health scares typical of newborns, and hormone shenanigans, Mary felt like she was in a bubble of happiness. Her daughter's birth had not miraculously healed her heart, but she was the glue that was holding the pieces together.

As the weeks went by, Beatrice was growing healthy and becoming more active and playful.

Mary's savings were dwindling at the same rate.

There weren't many job opportunities there, so Mary had to take a job at a local pub. Since Pavarti worked from home, she took care of the two babies during the day. At the end of the day, Mary helped her friend taking home some simpler pieces of clothing and making small sewing arrangements. She had never felt so grateful for the hours her grandmother forced her to learn how to sew. Despite it, she felt like she could never repay the kindness they showed her.

The young mother felt exhausted every night, but holding her daughter in her arms, playing with her, smelling her sweet scent, seeing how much she was growing day by day gave Mary the strength to carry one each morning.

Beatrice never lacked anything necessary, even if that sometimes meant just soup for Mary’s dinner. There were many things she wanted to give her daughter, but she couldn't afford them, even if it might be lacking, Mary made up for it with love.

-----

The year 1999 began full of hope. Although it wasn't technically the turn of the millennium, there was in the air the excitement of the end of an era, with a world of possibilities knocking on the door.

Now that the girls were a little older, the Dalys were planning to have another child. Mary was considering changing careers. Her idea was to return to the music world by giving private lessons.

Unfortunately, in April, a series of attacks shocked the United Kingdom and destroyed the dreams of the young family. George Daly was passing through Brick Lane on his way to meet his last client for the month when a nail bomb exploded. He did not survive his injuries and passed away a couple of days later.

Parvati was devastated. She cried for the loss of the love of her life and the loss of everything that Briar would not have with her father, even though she was too young to fully understand what had happened.

Mary knew what a broken heart felt like. However, what Pavarti was suffering was beyond her understanding. Despite the troubled separation, the hurt, the anger, she knew that the love of her life was alive and well. There was always a faint light in her heart, even if her mind denied it.

Part of her friend had died with him that day. Mary knew it would not be possible to heal that wound. For months, every day, Mary fought the darkness that threatened to swallow Pavarti. She was determined to take care of the parts of her friend that remained, just as Pavarti had done with her.

-----------------------

All children grow up too quickly in their parent's eyes, and Mary felt that it was in the blink of an eye that Beatrice went from a baby to a primary school girl.

Apart from the struggle to get her up from bed in the mornings, some occasional tantrums, and some shenanigans here and there, Mary felt blessed. Beatrice was very curious, eager to learn, always exploring the small world around her and asking many questions, some trivial, some more philosophical.

Even though she was little more than a child, Mary realised that her daughter had inherited her wit and passion. It gave her some peace of mind. Having a sharp spirit would protect her and help her succeed in whatever path she chose.

Mary wanted to teach her how to play the piano, but her daughter didn't seem to have the muse of music awake inside her, although Beatrice's voice was naturally in tune.

Nonetheless, as she grew up, the Vincent features stood out more and more in her, and not just physically. Like her father, Beatrice loved books, always asking to read stories. When an adult couldn’t read to her, she made up her own stories with what she saw in the illustrations and told them to Briar or to her dolls.

One night, Mary was sitting on her daughter's bed, dog-tired, praying for Beatrice to choose a small book. What was her surprise when her daughter appeared in the bedroom with her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' in her hands.

“It's too long for a bedtime story.”

“I didn't ask you to read me everything at once. I was thinking about one chapter per night.”

“It's a story for older girls. You're going to find it boring.”

“How older?” Her inquisitive mode had just turned on.

That was a good question. Mary used her own example to answer, “Girls who are fourteen or fifteen.”

“I am five, it’s not that different! Plus, you always choose good stories, so I'm sure it won't be boring. I have seen you read it more than once.”

“You're going to regret asking me for this. It would be much more fun when you read it by yourself.” In vain, Mary tried to change her mind. She started reading the famous first lines.

“IT IS A TRUTH universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

Night after night, chapter after chapter, Beatrice paid close attention to each line. Sometimes the sleep overcame the girl: however, there was use in trying to trick her. She always knew which page they were on before falling asleep. The reading took weeks, which ended up making story time easier for Mary.

With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

“The end.” She dramatically closed the book. “So, what do you think?” Mary asked.

“It's a little like fairy tales, but without fairies? Mr Darcy is a little grumpy for Prince Charming. Her aunt fits the evil witch role, though. But I loved it!” As she tucked her in, Beatrice asked, “Do you think there are many Mr Darcys out there?”

“If you look for yours, you will find him.”

“How will I know?”

“You will know it. You will feel it. Your heart will scream it.”

“Papa was yours?”

Mary still had difficulty dealing with questions about Vincent. For Beatrice, she had chosen to keep the narrative of the father who died in a car accident days before their wedding day. Despite her inquisitive nature, Beatrice rarely questioned Mary about it. Probably because the girl saw the pain in her eyes when the subject was mentioned.

She had only asked her once to see a photograph of him. Mary made up the excuse that all his photos had been lost when they moved to Grovershire. She was sad but didn't ask again.

“All love stories are different. Like Darcy and Lizzie, there were some differences between us, but, unlike her, I think I loved your dad from day one.”

Mary had only seen him again in person once. They were visiting Mrs. Lemay in London for a weekend. Walking through Hyde Park, Mrs. Lemay was further ahead with Beatrice by the hand. Mary had stayed behind, enjoying the rare moment of peace that a mother of a toddler can have. There was a street stall selling ice cream, and she decided to go over to buy some. As she got closer, she saw him. She saw them: Vincent, his wife, an older boy, and a boy a little younger than Beatrice, buying ice cream as well.

That sight left her breathless and with a piercing pain in her stomach. It was a difficult feeling to explain. It had been a little more than a couple of years, however, while it seemed like the same Vincent, it was as if their past was just a dream or the delirium of a feverish night.

The youngest son was throwing a tantrum, and Vincent patiently tried to calm him down. He seemed to have become the fantastic father she knew he could be and that she had dreamed of for her and their children.

Mary turned away and walked forward, quickening her pace. There was no reason for her to torture herself with the past, suffer the present, and tempt fate. Such an encounter would only make things worse.

-----------------------

As soon as Beatrice learned to read, Mary got her a library card. If on the one hand this freed her from the daily bedtime story, but on the other, it stirred even more her daughter's eagerness. Mary often had to go to the library to return books that Beatrice stubbornly brought home, despite not being appropriate for her age.

Every night, Mary had to go back to her room to make her turn off the light and go to sleep. On Friday nights, she knew that her daughter, after being caught in the act, would read another chapter under the blankets by flashlight, however, she decided to pretend that she didn't know about it.

-----------------------

February, 2004

Sitting in the doctor's waiting room, Mary tried to focus on the gossip magazine. Her limbs were heavy and sore from trying to control her nerves.

It wouldn't be anything serious, Mary repeated to herself. She had always been a healthy lass. She was just an exhausted mother, like many others. Like Pavarti, who had insisted on accompanying her to the appointment. There was a wedding dress to urgently finish, yet there she was. The years did not expunge the loss, but they brought back the light of her best friend.

Daughters full of energy in Year 5, long hours of work, little sleep, months without a moment for themselves, bills hard to pay alone, the need to start preparing the girls' future... No wonder they were both in shambles.

At Pavarti's insistence, there she was, fearing the worst, hoping for the best.

“Helen Howard!” the nurse called. Mary wanted to get up, but her legs didn't allow her to do so for a few seconds.

After some small talk, the doctor delivered the news in the politest and least dramatic way possible. “The cancer is aggressive, and it’s in an advanced stage. However, you are a woman in the prime. The sick cells have used your strength to multiply, but that same strength can be used in your favour...” He proceeded to explain the options available in her case.

Mary feared the suffering caused by the treatments, she feared the doctor's lack of certainty, she feared death... but, above all, she was terrified by the idea of her little girl being alone in the world.

Leaving the doctor's office, Mary didn't know what to feel or what to think. It was as if she were possessed by a sharp pain, a paralysing numbness, while at the same time she was diving into a bottomless, icy lake.

Then the anger and frustration came. ‘Why her? Hadn't she suffered enough already?’

As the days went by, Mary wasn’t still conformed to the diagnosis, but took control of what was in her hands.

For Beatrice and a future with her, Mary made her mind up to religiously follow the treatments. Even if she couldn’t escape, any chance of spending more time with her daughter would be worth every discomfort.

In the following days, Mary's biggest concern was how to tell her about it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, children are very perceptive. So, it didn't take long for Beatrice to ask her mother directly what was happening.

Mary stopped chopping the vegetables for the soup and took a deep breath. She couldn't break down in front of her daughter. To buy some time, Mary poured two glasses of juice for both of them. After a couple of sips, the first shaky words left his lips.

“As you know, I had some medical exams. I went to the doctor last week to get the results. I am very ill, my love.” She tried to find gracious words in the English language, but emotions rushed things. “I have ovarian cancer. I am starting treatments next week.”

Beatrice was silent for a while. Mary could see in her daughter's expressions that she was processing what she had just heard. “But, after it, you're going to be okay, right?” She looked up at Mary with her big, sweet hazel eyes.

Mary didn't want to lie to her, but she didn't want to be overly optimistic. "I will do my best. The doctors will do their best, and with a little faith everything, will be okay.”

+++++++

Her grandmother got a similar surgery years ago as a preventative measure; therefore, the operation didn't scare her. Mary knew the secret was to get plenty of rest, so as she did, at least, as much as mother can do.

On the other hand, chemotherapy treatments were knocking her down. Pregnancy nausea was a child's play compared to what she was feeling. After the sessions, Mary felt so weak that she could barely get out of bed for days. When she finally started to feel better, it was time to do another one.

If it weren't for Beatrice, Mary was sure she couldn’t bear it.

As soon as her hair began to fall like leaves in autumn, she decided to cut it very short. Mary had always loved and pampered her hair, and her grandmother was to blame. She loved her granddaughter's hair and spent hours doing elaborate hairstyles. Elena Howard used to say, 'Tira più un capello di donna che cento paia di buoi'' (‘one hair of woman pulls more than a hundred pairs of oxen’). Mary only many years later understood the full meaning of these words.

However, more than her hurt vanity, seeing Beatrice cry when she faced her like that for the first time was much more painful.

Since Mary couldn’t afford a decent wig, she chose to wear headscarves. Parvati, using all the scraps of beautiful fabrics, sewed her headscarves in all patterns and colours.

+++++++

Despite all the ups and downs, Mary was enjoying that summer.

One more time in her life, she has a lot to be thankful for Parvati. Her friend was being tireless with her, spending the most critical nights close to her, preparing meals, taking care of Beatrice, driving her to and from the hospital... Mary knew she could never repay her, so she prayed that life would reward her with the same kindness.

Thanks to Pavarti's generosity, Mary was able to dedicate what little energy she had to her little girl, keeping these precious moments in her heart.

Beatrice spoiled her as best she could, with little gifts and affection. She was always ready to help, no matter the task. It filled Mary's heart with pride. Her daughter's love was what kept her standing.

The fear of the future often made her think about Vincent. She was sure that Pavarti would look out for her daughter, however, if the worst happened, at least Beatrice would have someone else to turn to.

Rupert had died a few years earlier, so he was no longer a threat. The years and the paths taken changed both of them, but Mary believed that his heart had not changed.

She was convinced that when he found out about Beatrice, Vincent would not excuse himself from his obligations. She also didn't doubt that, as time went by, they would love each other very much.

So, Mary started making arrangements. Since she didn't want there to be any doubt about her daughter's paternity, she took a sample of Beatrice's hair for them to analyse.

Along with the samples and some photographs, Mary enclosed a letter from her to Vincent in an envelope. It took days, crumpled papers, and many tears to write that letter. Later, she would just need to instruct Pavarti on how to get that to Vincent.

At the end of September, hope fell away with the leaves. Despite the treatments, the new exams showed that it had spread to other parts of the body. The doctor was almost as dejected as she was.

“Just tell me how long I have.” Mary asked through tears.

“I can't give guarantees about anyone's life, Miss Howard. Sometimes there are real miracles in the human body.” The doctor tried to comfort her.

“I prefer the truth, doctor. Please.”

“A couple of months, no more than Christmas.”

“Will it be painful?”

“There are several ways to make that period smoother, if that's your wish.”

“Having to go is bad enough, don’t you think?”

Back home, Mary didn't have the courage to face her daughter. Parvati took Beatrice home for an impromptu sleepover party.

When the girls fell asleep, Pavarti sneaked over to the Howards' house. It would be a very difficult night for Mary.

After many cups of tea and many more tears, Mary resolved, “This will take me to my grave, but I won't let it take away the shreds of happiness. My daughter and I deserve better than spending our final weeks in misery.”

From that moment on, Mary focused on enjoying every minute with her girl, the epitome of her happiness.

“When are you going to tell her?” Pavarti asked.

“I do not know how, but not for now. When I feel it's closer. I don't want her to cry before the time.”

*November 2004*

Giggles were filling the air. Two little girls were playing tag, running around carefree.

Mary was sitting in her small garden, feeling severe pains, in spite of the medications. She held a mug of strong coffee in her hands, one of the few things that gave her energy.

The autumn sun in her bones was her only comfort. That and seeing her daughter happy.

Taking small, warm sips, Mary reflected on the past thirty years. So much had happened! In her short life there were adventures that would fill a lifetime. Losses along the way, setbacks, broken dreams...but also good friends, many happy days...and, best of all, Beatrice. Mary would go all the way again for the opportunity to share her life with Beatrice.

She was already missing what wasn't going to live with her. Beatrice looks at her and smiles. She is missing two teeth that fell out the other day. Mary knows she won't see her new teeth, yet she smiles back.

‘How do we prepare a child for our death, Pavarti?' Mary asked her friend, who was sitting next to her. 

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#desire and decorum #desire & decorum #unspoken desires #oc: beatrice foredale #choices stories you play #desire and decorum fanfic

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princess-geek · 4 months ago

Text

White Peonies (Part I)

Book: Desire & Decorum

Series: Unspoken Desires (Modern Desire & Decorum AU)

Summary: Another peek into the past, this time to lift the veil on Mary’s life and three generations of fascinating women of the Howard family.

Main Pairing: Vincent Foredale x Mary Howard.

Word Count: +/- 7280

Rating: General (but with light mentions to adult/violent situations, sickness and death).

Notes: 💖English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors. 💖Special thanks to @rosesnink for proofreading.

💖 This is my submission for @choicesficwriterscreations ‘Fics of the week’

(December 1945 )

After the war, the Captain James Arthur Howard returned to Grovershire, his hometown, with the love and saviour of his life, his Italian fiancé, Elena Moretti. They got married on December 24th of that year.

The couple settled in James Howard's small cottage. The war had interrupted the works, so it needed a lot of love and sweat to make it comfortable again.

The first few months were hard, but that didn't discourage the newly-weds. Together, they finished the works on their modest home.

Taking advantage of the skills honed during the war, James opened a small automobile repair shop. Elena worked at home, but no less hard. She baked cakes and biscuits in the Italian way for the village tea shop and sold the vegetables she grew in her garden at the market.

They had two children: Thomas, born in 1947 and Sophia in 1950.

At the beginning of the 60s, the Howard’s future seemed promising: James had a lot of work and had to take on an employee to help. Thomas was showing interest in mechanics and was already working as his father's apprentice on Saturdays. James had high hopes for his son. He dreamed of Thomas becoming a mechanical engineer. Besides continuing to make cakes and cookies for the teahouse, Elena had started to cook pizzas to order a few days a week. She got Grovershire hooked on her Italian flavours; Sophia had passed her Eleven-plus with flying colours.

However, the summer of 1961 was shadowed by tragedy. Thomas caught pneumonia and could not resist the consequences of the disease. He passed away on September 1st of that same year, leaving a deep scar of loss in the family.

This caused two very different reactions: James became more demanding towards Sophia, and Elena became an overprotective mother.

Sophia finished her studies with distinction. James Howard's sister, who lived in London, tried to convince her brother to send her niece to London. She was planning to get Sophia a job at the bank where her husband was working. Despite the aunt and niece's pleas, James and Elena refused to be apart from their daughter.

Nevertheless, Sophia was determined to not let her parents' fears stop her to blossom. Even though there weren't many job opportunities in Grovershire, she found a position as the doctor's secretary.

She was a quick learner, so in a short time, Sophia was helping the doctor with some procedures, showing great competence. Dr Morrison encouraged her to become a nurse.

Despite her parents' reluctance, Sophia liked that idea and was saving money for nursing school. Becoming a nurse would not only allow her to do something she enjoyed, but also conquer her independence.

Therefore, besides her job at the doctor's office, Sophia never missed the opportunity for any extra work.

However, one of these extra jobs would change her life completely.

Mr Oliver Paterson, a handsome and clever young lawyer, arrived in the small town to take over his great-uncle's office. As there weren’t many legal disputes in regions like Grovershire, Mr Paterson needed a secretary only for a couple of hours a week, so, on the recommendation of Dr Morrison, he hired Sophia.

Among legal proceedings books, letters, stacks of papers to organize, tea and Italian biscuits, the cordial relationship between employer and secretary didn't take long to become something more. Sophia didn't expect to fall in love, but in a few months, she couldn't think of anything other than a future with Oliver.

She was so confident in a life with him that within a few months, Sophia introduced Oliver to her parents. His charm won over the Howards, who welcomed him as a member of the family.

Thus, when she found out she was pregnant, Sophia wasn't too worried. That would speed things up, and soon they would get married. Even though she couldn’t work for a year or two, Oliver made enough for their little family and her nest egg would allow them some extra comforts.

Her dreams and her heart shattered when she told Oliver she was expecting a child. Upon hearing the news, he not only refused to take on the child, but also announced that he was moving to the USA, quoting the bastard, ‘to work at an important international law firm'.

If that was true, Sophia never bothered to confirm. Overnight, the charming Mr Paterson disappeared without a trace, owing her money and leaving a child without a father.

Disillusioned, ashamed and fearing her parents' reaction, Sophia fled to London to her aunt's house. Upon learning of the rumour that Oliver had gone to the USA, the Howards feared that Sophia had run away with him. The couple was losing hope when James's sister called to say that her niece was there. James and Elena came to London to join her daughter and the rest of the family for the holidays.

Despite her fears, with her aunt's help, Sophia told her parents she was expecting during the holidays. Those were the saddest holidays since Thomas' death, but her parents reacted better than Sophia expected.

They had already lost a son, so even though they were not ecstatic about their daughter's situation, they assured her of their love and support every step of the way.

Sophia returned to Grovershire with her parents. Ignoring the scandal caused by gossipers, the family prepared to welcome the baby.

This time, it was her parents who were making plans for Sophia to go to nursing school. They would take care of the baby for as long as necessary.

On August 8, 1970, Mary Helen Howard was born. The labour went well, but Sophia caught a serious infection at the hospital, and died a few weeks later.

It was another terrible loss for the Howards, but this time, they had a beacon of hope to hold on. Baby Mary became the reason for their lives. James and Elena decided that they would not let the shadows of the past dim their granddaughter's light.

Mary was a lively and healthy child. There was some drama in her teens, nothing that wasn't normal and that they couldn't deal with.

Since childhood, she had revealed a natural talent for music, dazzling everybody with her voice and piano skills on Sunday services and school plays.

Full of pride, the grandparents bought Mary a small piano, making her promise to keep good grades though. She kept her promise and finished high school as one of the best in her class.

Nevertheless, from an early age, Mary showed signs of wanting something different. Elena could understand her granddaughter's heart. Before the war, she had dreamed of becoming an opera singer. In fact, Elena had tried to escape to Milan a couple of times during her adolescence.

In addition to her talent, Mary had the aura of a diva, like the Italian prima donnas. Elena saw how she fascinated everyone who listened to her, as if her voice could cast a spell. Such enchantment power could give her much success, but it could also open the door to some heartbreak. As a grandmother, she could only prepare Mary for life the best she could…and prepare James too.

When Mary turned 18 and told them she was going to move to London to pursue her dream of becoming a singer, her grandparents buried their fears and let her fly.

Unfortunately, Elena and James didn't live long enough to see the first fruits of Mary's labour.

********

Even though she was aware it wouldn't be a fairy tale, some obstacles along the way made Mary’s heart waver.

During her first few months in London, she lived with a great-aunt. Mrs. Lee knew her great-niece's talent, so more than just a house, she wanted to help her pursue her dream. Even at short notice, she managed to get Mary to apply to the Royal Academy of Music and get an audition. Mary was not accepted that year, but her great-aunt encouraged her to take a sabbatical and prepare to apply in the following year.

Sadly, her grandfather's sister died suddenly, and her cousins sold the house immediately.

As if she had predicted what was going to happen, her great-aunt had found her a job as a live-in maid. It was far from perfect; however, it gave her a roof over her head. The job was allowing Mary to save some money but depriving her of enough time energy to dedicate to the music.

On one of the nights off, Sophia and Dahlia, one of her coworkers, went to a pub in another part of the city. It was a cosy place; the people were nice and there was live music that night. They were having so much fun that the girls didn't notice the time passing until the first ring of the bell. They asked for one more pint.

“This one's on me, girls. It’s my last night here, and you're my last clients. Cheers!” The waitress said, drinking a pint with them.

As she drank, Mary found herself watching the musicians arranging their instruments. One of them was particularly attractive, but it wasn't what lit her spirit. Mary had an idea. “Do you know if they will hire someone to replace you?” She asked the waitress.

“My boss interviewed some candidates today. I don't know whether any of them were selected.”

“I am interested in the position. I have some experience. Besides, I'm also a singer. I would save your boss some money by performing on nights like tonight.” Her experience was limited to a summer job at the town pub, though, but she tried to sound as confident as possible. It was a long shot, but at least she could do what she loved for a couple of hours a day.

“After making money, Mr Brown's favourite thing is saving money.” The waitress laughed. “I'll meet him here in the morning to settle our accounts. Show up here, maybe he'll fancy you.”

With Dalia’s help, Mary called sick day. Pretending to leave the house to go to the doctor, Mary went to the pub and presented her proposal.

“Miss Howard, are you aware that I won't pay you not a penny more for singing, right? At least, not until you give me evidence that your performances will make a profit.”

Mary nodded. Mr Brown asked to take a pint and prepare a couple of drinks. Her hands were shaking, and she could feel the sweat running down her back. Then he asked her to sing a song. From her point of view, it didn't go very well, but he didn't seem to hate it.

“You're not very fast, but you look like someone who learns quickly. Very good, Miss Howard. I'll hire her for a month to see how she goes. No guarantees! You start tonight. Welcome to ‘The Black Panther'!”

Even with guilt on her conscience, for the first few days, Mary pretended to be sick and sneaked out to the pub. After a week working there, Mr Brown showed no signs of being unhappy with her work, so Mary resigned.

She was without a roof over her head again, but she managed to persuade Mr Brown to let her sleep for a few days in a sleeping bag at the back of the pub. Dahlia let her shower and wash clothes secretly at her former bosses' house.

A few days later, Mary found a room in a flat shared by college students who hung around the pub. They were noisy and even more messy, but that wasn't what kept her up at night.

It's been almost two months since she had started working there and Mr Brown still hasn't allowed her to perform, not even a song in karaoke night. Every day she took the guitar with her in the hope of having an opportunity.

Dahlia offered to try to get her job back as a maid. Mary was tempted to accept.

Arriving at the pub in an afternoon, Mary found Mr Brown very distressed around the karaoke machine.

“This is a disaster! The machine will never be ready in time for tonight! ‘The Golden Lion’ will feast on my clients tonight!” He mumbled dramatically to himself.

Mary saw an opportunity in his drama and volunteered to perform. After thinking for a while, Mr Brown concluded that it was better to have an amateur singer than to run the risk of clients swapping him for another feline.

Mary barely had time to feel nervous over the next few hours. While carrying out the evening's tasks, she chose what she was going to sing and reviewed the chords in her head. Dahlia hurriedly brought her a change of clothes and some makeup, so Mary could get ready.

Minutes before going onto the small stage, nervous butterflies invaded her body. She was so tense that could barely open her mouth. Playing with the gold necklace that her grandmother had given her, a familiar melody began to play in her head, calming the butterflies. Although she couldn’t speak Italian, Mary had heard her grandmother sing it so many times that the verses flowed like a Milanese diva: ‘E quest' è il fiore del partigiano /O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao/E quest'è il fiore del partigiano / Morto per la libertà”.

Feeling warmer in her heart, Mary picked up the guitar and sang to the pub's customers as if she were singing at a packed opera.

She did not remember how many songs she sang that night, for as soon as the first notes left her guitar and her lips, Mary lost track of the world around her, only occasionally being awakened by applauses.

“Not bad for a girl from Grosshire.” Mr Brown said counting the money at the end of the night.

“It’s Grovershire, but thank you. I hope there will be more nights like this.” Mary tried to decipher his intentions.

Mary started to perform once a week at the pub and hosting the karaoke nights. Mr Brown was cheap, but he was fair, sharing part of the profit with Mary. Thanks to the extra money, Mary could leave the chaos of the students’ flat and rent a studio. It wasn't big, but to her it was her own Buckingham Palace.

For months, customers old and new came every week to listen to the nightingale of ‘The Black Panter’.

One night, after her concert, a woman gave her a business card. She asked Mary to stop by her office the next day. “I can’t promise you the world, but I can put you on a bigger stage.”

‘Lemay Events

– Your dream, come true’

Intrigued, Mary showed up there on the next day. Mrs. Lemay, the woman who had approached her the night before, explained that their event organisation company was growing, and they needed a full-time singer at their service.

“Your voice, Miss Howard, is divine and deserves more than weddings and corporate parties. I'm sure someone with more power than me will listen to you and take you where you deserve.”

Even if that didn't happen, at least she wouldn't have to share the songs with the beers. Despite the salary wasn't much higher, it would allow her to save up for a demo.

Working with Mrs. Lemay, Mary travelled around the British islands, singing for all kinds of people and occasions... even funerals. Wherever she went, Mary enthralled all who listened to her and made Mrs. Lemay prospers. Over time, Mary and Mrs. Lemay had become close friends. After her grandparents were dead, Mrs. Lemay was the closest thing Mary had to a family.

At times, her charms attracted some unwanted attention. Not all of them were drunk wedding guests. Some of those who tried their luck were decent and handsome guys. However, Mary ignored any advances, whether drunk or sober. Except if they brought flowers. Mary always accepted the flowers. Especially if they were peonies.

Not that her mother's unfortunate affair with her boyfriend (or ‘The Piral’1 as her grandmother referred to him when she thought Mary wasn't listening) made her sceptical about love. Her grandparents' example had shown her that true love was real and wonderful. Mary had a sweetheart in high school, but she had decided long ago to prioritise her dream over romance.

One morning, Mary and the musicians were preparing the repertoire for a wedding, when Mrs. Lemay arrived at the office ecstatic. An obscenely rich guy had hired them to organise his party at The Trafalgar St. James.

“He hinted that there will be royalty among the guests. I promised him nothing less than the pinnacle of perfection.” Then, Mrs. Lemay turned to Mary “Take care of your voice over the next few weeks, Mary. Take a vow of silence if necessary. This is a lifetime opportunity!”

Mrs. Lemay hardly slept for weeks to get everything to beyond magnificent.

*****

Mary had never been there before, but the hotel certainly never had shined as brightly as it did that night.

She was determined to shine as well. Mrs. Lemay told her some important names in the music industry were among the guests. She rented an exquisite burgundy dress for the evening so that Mary's figure would not pass unnoticed in the opulence of the room.

Before the party starts, the hosts went backstage to greet the musicians. Although obscenely rich, the Sinclaire’s did not match to the stereotype of the rich snob people. The husband was clearly the more extroverted of the pair shaking hands with everyone and exuding a good mood. Though more discreet, the wife seemed to be a very sweet person. She was holding a cute toddler in her arms. When Mary tried to play with the little boy, he hid in his mother's red hair.

Behind the curtain, the sumptuous room was intimidating. There were many famous faces among the guests, including musicians and singers she admired. She felt a knot tightening her stomach. Mary thought she was going to throw up before getting on stage.

“Head up, dear Mary!” Mrs. Lemay encouraged. “This night will change our lives forever.”

Despite the applauses from the audience at the end of the first part, Mary came back to the dressing room very frustrated with herself. Her nervousness had gotten out of control, woken up her parodic perfectionist side.

“Mary, that’s fine, no one noticed got the lyrics wrong. I didn't notice it myself.” Mrs. Lamy quickly prepared some tea to calm her down. Mary was her main asset that night, she couldn't let her lose control.

Mary was about to take the first sip, when she was interrupted by a loud noise. The loud knock on the door only irritated her even more. Annoyed, she set the cup down with such force that she broke it, staining her dress with tea. “Shit!”

Mary gathered herself as best she could to open the door. Standing t the door, there was a young man. He was very tall with an aristocratic bearing.

“There is no need to attack the door. You scared me!”

“I…I’m sorry, Miss Howard, it was not my intention.” He said in a rather posh accent. Despite his imposing appearance, he seemed to be very nervous as he faced her.

“May I help you, my lord?”

“How do you know…?”

“I didn’t know for sure, but I noticed that you seem to be very close to Mr Sinclaire, so there was a high probability that you had some title.” She made sure her words had a harsh tone. She didn’t like to sound like a diva but the last thing she needed that night was a playboy looking for an unwary girl. Men like him only brought problems to women like her.

She looked him straight in the eyes to be sure he was understanding that he had no chance with her. That technique had worked on other occasions. Nevertheless, looking at him more carefully for those seconds, she couldn't help but notice that he was very handsome, with all the attributes of the charming princes. In addition to a breathtaking shade of blue, Mary noticed something else in his eyes that was pulling her towards him with an overwhelming force.

“Vincent Foredale, at your service, Miss Howard.” He kissed her hand gently. “I have to say I’m bewitched… my body, my soul… your voice is divine…Would you be so kind as to agree to go out with me after your performance? There’s a lovely place near here that’s open until late…”

“You can stop right there! This isn’t my first fancy party, so I know how this end with men like you…or rather, how you want it to end… and I’m not interested. Did you really think you would convince me with a Jane Austen paraphrase? Points for erudition, but no thanks.” Mary closed the door in his face, scared by what he was making her feel at that moment. She leaned against the door, trying to process what had just happened.

Despite her harsh words, the young lord didn't give up and remained at the door, declaring his good intentions. “I’m sorry if some called gentlemen took improper liberties with you, Miss Howard, but I assure you I have the best of intentions. If you are still listening, Miss, I’m just asking for a chance to get to know you better. I feel your voice is just the pale reflection of your beautiful soul. Please, I will do anything to prove my pure intentions. I will be at your disposal all night if you change your mind.”

“He seems to be a very decent guy, Mary.” Mrs. Lemay smiled.

“You can’t be serious, Mrs. Lemay! I don't have time to play Cinderella!”

"Cinderella never asked for a prince charming. She just asked for a night off to have fun. You are already at a glamorous party and wearing a beautiful dress. Why don't you have some fun? I can see that you liked what you saw and heard, Mary, don't deny it. I know you better than you know yourself. Bonus, he's very handsome.”

“He is, but I can’t…” Mary was torn between following what she had set in her mind or following the impulse of her heart.

“If you have doubts that are just sweet words, why don't you test it?

“Mrs. Lemay, how am I supposed to test him?”

Mary glanced at the clock. The break was ending. She had to calm her heart and mind quickly. The singer thought that if she asked him something ridiculous, he would stop bothering her, ending the torment. “This is a terrible idea, but here I go…”

Mary opened the door, almost slamming Vincent with it. “Oh… you are still there!” Mary blushed. “It is not polite to eavesdrop behind doors. Someone like you should know that.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, Miss Howard… I…” Vincent got flustered.

“I will accept your invitation with one condition: You will have to sing tonight. You will open the second part of my concert.” She smiled playfully.  

“One song, one date?” Vincent repeated, “Do you mean, right here and now?”

“Yes, on this very stage.”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t sing very well, Miss Howard.”

“You said you would do anything… I thought gentlemen always kept their word.” Mary turned her back and closed the door. She heard footsteps moving away. Problem solved. Mrs. Lemay left her alone to get ready.

Her time was coming, so she walked towards the stage. As she got closer, Mary heard the notes of the piano resounding on her body. Peaking behind the curtain, she saw him bravely facing the shame. The fact that he has accepted the challenge baffled her.

“Wise men say/ Only fools rush in/ But I can’t help falling in love with you/ Shall I stay? / Would it be a sin/ If I can’t help falling in love with you?”

As he sang the first song verses, an intense shiver ran through her body, making her heart pounding fast.

He wasn't a nightingale, but he wasn't terrible. Although she couldn't hear, she could guess from the looks and the whispers he was going to be the laughingstock of the night among his peers.

For a moment, his voice lulled her to dreams of the love that the song promised. Could it really be true?

When he finished, the musicians hurried him out, and Mrs. Lemay hurried her entry. They just had time to catch a glimpse of each other.

Mary resumed the concert as if nothing had happened. Minutes later, he reappeared, sitting at the tables in front of the stage.

In some songs, Mary invited the audience to dance. Vincent never left his seat, even though some women invited him directly.

*********

At the end of the concert, Mary assumed Vincent was waiting for her outside the dressing room but there was no sign of him. Could he just be playing around with her? Whatever the case was, she decided to take a walk around the hotel to see if she could find him.

As she walked through the never-ending corridors, Mary crossed paths with Lydia Sinclaire. She was walking back and forth with her son in her arms. The boy was crying desperately, and his mother seemed about to start to do the same.

“Is everything all right, Mrs. Sinclaire? Is the boy sick? Would you like me to call someone?”

“No, Miss Howard, thank you. He woke up grumpy and is throwing a tantrum to go back to sleep.” Lydia sighed. “He's usually a calm baby. I don't know what's going on with him today.”

“Maybe it's because he woke up in a strange place for him and not in his comfy crib.”

“I know you must be tired, Miss Howard, but...Could you sing for him, please? I have been here for almost an hour. I have tried everything.... not even breastfeeding is calming him down.” She vented in despair. “I think he likes your voice because he fell asleep before the end of the first song.”

Mary didn't have the courage to refuse a desperate mother. Bringing back her babysitting skills, Mary gently took the boy from her mother's arms. “Shhh, my, my, why are we so angry, little angel?” She stroked his curls. “What are you up to? ‘Beatles’? ‘Elton John’? ‘Oasis’? No. I think ‘Queen’ suits you better.” Mary smiled. “I was born to love you/With every single beat of my heart/Yes, I was born to take care of you/Every single day,” She sang, rocking him softly. The crying decreased with each verse until the little blue eyes began to close. Once the song was over, Mary hummed the melody until he returned to the world of dreams.

Mrs. Sinclaire was very grateful. “Thank you so much, Miss Howard. I will make sure your kindness will be rewarded.”

Mary continued with her quest. Almost giving up, she called the elevator to go back to the dressing room. When the doors opened, she came face to face with Vincent.

“Miss Howard!” He gasped. “Thank God you are here! I was afraid you were gone!”

“I thought you would be…” The two spoke at the same time, both trying to explain themselves.

Vincent invited her to 'The Red Lion'. They walked there, all the way in silence, arriving almost at closing time. Fortunately, Vincent knew the managers and they let them stay after hours.

After ordering something to eat and drink, Vincent tried to make conversation, but all his eloquence stammered before her.

“Something tells me you don’t have much in the way of picking up a girl!” Mary laughed.

Vincent turned red. “No, I don’t have. My friends tried to give me speed lessons tonight, but as you may notice at your door, they were useless.”

“Good thing I like Jane Austen.” She smiled. “Which is your favourite?”

“’Persuasion’. It's not a popular choice, but I like the idea that true love always finds a way.”

“Good choice of words. You should try more often. With practice, you will certainly be able to persuade more women.”

“I mean it when I say I would very much like to know you better. I don’t want to just ‘pick up you’, Miss Howard. You or any other woman. I collect pens, not lovers.” Vincent fidgeted nervously with his glass.

“Does that mean you see me as a potential lover?” She teased him.

“Miss Howard, that wasn’t…I...” He almost dropped the glass.

“Or I am not handsome enough to tempt you?”

“No, it's quite the opposite...You are rather alluring... I'm sorry, maybe that wasn't the best choice of words this time.”

“You can call me Mary and it’s okay, I was only teasing you.” She took his glass and put it on the table. “If it’s not a lover, what are you looking for, Viscount Vincent?”

“I have never wanted a lover...I have always wished for someone who I can share all my secrets with.”

“Don’t you have a best friend for that?”

“I do, but...Miss Howard...Mary... My soul has been dormant, and you awakened it with the first note you sang. I have felt nothing like this.”

“How can you say that? It hasn't even been a couple of hours yet since you met me!”

“Singing the way you sing, with that passion and depth... I can feel that you are certainly the sharpest and most ardent woman I will ever meet.”

From those first sentences on, the conversation between them never stopped, extending from the pub for the rest of the night at The Green Park. The young viscount's embarrassment faded into conversation, allowing Mary to glimpse an intelligent and sensitive man. Although his noble bearing never wavered, Mary found no trace of vanity or pride in him.

Despite the obvious gulf between their lives and some of their ideas, he never, even for a moment, seemed upset or irritated by what she was saying, listening to her with respect and attention.

He obviously put on his coat on her back before she even felt cold. Even in that moment of closeness, Vincent didn't try to touch her, he didn't even look at her cleavage, despite the dress exposing that area.

Mary was truly enjoying her time with him. Maybe enjoying too much, as the voice in her head was warning. She had a plan for her life and was determined to stick to it. And her plan didn't include falling in love.

However, the more they talked, the more she wanted to know about him, to be closer to him.

Mary didn’t remember falling asleep, but somehow, she woke up with her head resting on his chest, snuggled on his body. They were surprisingly warm under his coat at that hour. She inhaled the soft scent of his shirt. The last few hours had been a beautiful dream, but it was time to come back to reality.

He insisted on driving her home. Mary accepted it. She would sing at a wedding mass in a couple of hours and couldn't be late (and being with him a little longer was a bonus).

Vincent got out of the car and helped her out. ‘God, why you have to be so nice?’, Mary thought to herself.

“Thank you for this lovely night, Mary.” He kissed her hand. “May I hope to see you again?”

Her head said no, but her heart went ahead. “That depends.” Mary flashed him an enigmatic smile.

“Of what?” Vincent had an adorable, confused look on his face.

“If you kiss me. I have been waiting for it all night.” Mary had wanted to kiss him since he left the stage. Vincent cupped her face. She felt his hands shaking. “And promise me that we won’t fall asleep on the grass again. Even the peasants back don’t survive a night on the ground.” His arms gently circled her body. Mary’s hands instinctively grasped his shirt. “I am not a crystal glass, Vincent. I will not break.”

Vincent bent down, his lips against her cheek, brushing it lightly. “I am afraid if I kiss you, you will vanish in the air.

“I am not Cinderella, and we are a long way from midnight, my lord.” Mary smiled sweetly, reaching up and pulling him closer to her.

Once, she had read in a book that after a first kiss, there is no going back. It changes both people. At that time, she thought it was exaggerated. It only took a few seconds to change her mind. Kissing Vincent was as natural as breathing. It wasn’t just the touch of two lips. It was the meeting of two souls. And they talked, through the lips, the heart beatings, the soft sighs… Mary tried to deepen the kiss. Reluctantly, Vincent pulled away, whispering against her lips. “If I don’t stop now, I will never be able to let you go from my arms.”

“Is that a promise, Viscount?” She grinned at him, dizzy with the intensity of what his lips had told her.

Vincent peaked her lips. “So, I suppose that this opens the door to a second date?”

“What are you doing to me, Vincent Foredale?” Mary thought aloud as she caressed his face.

From that day on, there were not many days when they were apart, both arranging their lives to spend as much time as possible together. For almost two years, Mary felt like she was living in heaven on earth.

It didn't matter if it was a romantic weekend away, a Sunday lazing around on the sofa, an afternoon playing cards, making him coffee in the early hours of the morning while he wrote down new ideas for his novel or a morning trying to teach Vincent how to cook... all these moments were precious and only made her fall in love even more.

Besides Vincent’s heart, Mary had caught someone else's eye on that night at 'The Trafalgar St. James'. A music producer contacted her sometime later, offering their services to book her some concerts at small festivals and opening the concerts of some renowned singers. He also asked her to write some original songs to record. If they liked it, there could be good news soon.

As the months passed and their feelings deepened, Mary found herself wondering when Vincent would introduce her to his family. When she asked about it, he avoided the topic. He justified the delay with the need to prepare both sides.

Like most noble families, his parents would certainly still have many of the old prejudices. The encounter between their worlds would be a shock for them and herself. Mary had agreed that the moment would require preparation and patience.

Besides, it was also in the interest of Mary's career to keep a low profile for a while. A malicious article in a tabloid would be a damage difficult to repair.

Although Mary understood his reasons, she noticed there was something wrong with her boyfriend. Over the last couple of months, Vincent looked tired and worried all the time. He was spending less time with her and, sometimes, when they were together, she could say his body was there, but his mind was away.

In those moments, she felt the shadows of doubt take over her heart 'Would Vincent be ashamed of her?' 'Did he truly intend to take her to his parents?' 'Was she just a rich boy's entertainment?

On the holidays in 1993, Vincent whisked her away for a surprise travel. At first, she was a little disappointed upon arriving in Scotland. She hoped his surprise would be Christmas at Edgewater, not a cottage in de the middle of the fields.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Vincent asked her to dress warmly, let him blindfold her, and follow him. Although Mary found it a strange request, she followed Vincent. After walking for some time, they were climbing a small hill. When they reached the top, Vincent removed her blindfold.

Opening her eyes, Mary was lost for speech, enraptured by the northern lights above them. On the night they met, among the many things they said, Mary had commented that she would love to see the northern lights one day. Mary didn't know what made her happier: if she finally saw the lights, or if Vincent remembered that little detail.

“They are so beautiful…so magical! Don’t you think, Vincent? Aren’t they the most wonderful thing?” Mary beamed at the sky.

“No, they aren’t.”

Mary turned to him, staggered by his response. Then she saw him kneeling before her. He gently took her hand and kissed it. “You, my dearest Mary, you amaze me every day with your heart, the wits of your mind. When I met you, my soul was almost extinguished, but you became the light of my life. People say that I was born with the best life has to offer, but in reality, it is with you that I discovered the best life there is. Neither lands, nor treasures, nor titles have done in years what you have done in these months... You make me a better man with your love. My Mary, would you be so kind to accept me as your husband?”

The intensity of what Mary felt at that moment raptured her. She was shaking, laughing, and tearing up all at the same time.

“My dearest Mary, please say something…even it’s not what I wish to hear…” Vincent was getting worried.

“What your family will think? I am just a…” Mary stammered.

“You are the most important person in my life. I will find a way for us; whether like it or not.” Vincent hugged her tenderly.

“No, Vincent. We will find a way.”

“That means…”

“Yes, my love. My heart has no choice but to love you forever and furthermore.” Mary caressed his face.

Vincent twirled her in the air, deliriously happy. They kissed wildly, reasserting through their lips all the affection, admiration, devotion and passion for each other.

In the intensity of the moment, the ring box slipped from Vincent’s hands. Fortunately, it fell at Mary's feet. Vincent took it out of the box and gently placed it on her finger. It was made of gold, with three flowers. The central flower was made of small pearls and adorned with a discreet diamond.

“It’s stunning, Vincent.” Mary beamed.

“I designed it myself. I know it's simple... I tried to make it look like a peony...at least it's white...You deserved a bigger diamond... I can’t afford it now, but I will spend my life making up for it.”

“I don’t care about what it’s made of. It means hope, a promise of a future with you. Nothing else matters to me. Our love is the is the greatest treasure of all.” Mary kissed his hand devotedly.

*****

The following weeks were crazy for Mary, between services for Mrs. Lemay and some scheduled concerts. Vincent had something prepared for Valentine's Day, but it was impossible to be with him. Her concert ended too late for his plans.

To make up for him, Mary convinced Mrs. Lemay to give her a weekend off to “rest her voice”. They didn't do anything special. They barely left their castle (aka Mary's flat). Not like they needed anything else anyway. Their hearts always had a lot to tell each other.

It was a mild February Sunday morning. Some rays of sunlight coming through the window woke her up. Vincent was still sleeping soundly. The morning light illuminated her hand resting on his chest. Every time she looked at her engagement ring on the hand her heart skip a beat with so much happiness. Mary had never spent much time fantasizing about wedding plans, but after singing at so many, she had some ideas.

She planted a kiss on her lovers’ chest. Maybe they could discuss it over breakfast. It was time to go get bread.

Mary rarely had any problems getting up in the morning, but for a few days now, she's been struggling to get out of bed. Mary was exhausted, but she couldn't stop now that there was light at the end of the tunnel for her music. Rolling her body off the bed, Mary felt her head heavy, and for an instant, the small room was spinning around her.

After coffee, Mary was sure she would feel better. Nothing was more wrong. The coffee tasted horrible that morning.

As usual, there was a queue outside the bakery. With no coffee to sip, Mary bought 'The Sunday Times' to entertain herself. She was so distracted reading some trivial news that she almost dropped the newspaper when a lady asked her if she could see the headline.

Mary opened the newspaper wider so the woman could see better. The woman seemed shocked by the headline.

Intrigued by the woman’s reaction, Mary turned it to her. There was something controversial about Princess Diana, but that was hardly new lately. Then, her eyes reached the bottom strip of the headline.

‘Viscount Foredale and Mrs. Marlcaster announce their engagement! - Read everything about the wedding of the year on page 20.’

She couldn’t believe what her eyes were reading. That couldn't be true. Mary ran out of air as a sharp pain coursed through her body, making her throw up.

When she could breathe again, Mary flew back home. Fury, disappointment, anguish, fear... hope. She was feeling everything at once. Although it was difficult to think through the hurricane of emotions, something inside her was screaming it was true.

Her mind wanted to get home as quickly as possible to find out, but her heart was terrified.

Vincent was still in bed. Mary couldn't say anything right away, frozen by dazedness. She was clutching the newspaper on her hand, trying to come back from the shock.

“What happened, Mary?” Vincent asked, feeling that something was wrong.

His question made her blood boil. Mary threw the newspaper at him, hitting her fiancé hard in the face. “Congratulations on your engagement, Viscount Foredale! Wishing you a lifetime of joy, love, and happiness. Now get out of my house immediately!”

Vincent picked up the newspaper and read the headline. “Mary, I know what this sounds like, but believe me, I have an explanation. I should have talked to you earlier…” He stuttered, losing his colours.

“I don’t want an explanation! Look me in the eye and tell me it’s a lie!” Mary cried.

The moment Vincent looked her in the eye and admitted it was true, her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. Mary loved him more than life, but she refused to be the other woman. She had given him her soul and body and would accept nothing less from him than the same commitment. It would be better to live without him than to live in the shadows.

To show him she was kicking him out of her house and her life, Mary tried to take the ring off her finger. Vincent knew her so well that the ring was just the right size, making the task more difficult.

“I mean what that ring symbolizes. You are my true betrothed.” He tried again.

Hurting her finger, Mary snatched the ring and threw it at him. Her hand was bleeding, but what were a few scratches on a finger compared with the abyss that he had opened in her heart?

Vincent took the ring from the floor. “Mary, my love, please, don’t do this.”

“Don’t dare to call me that ever again! Get out of my house! Now!”

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