Watching her from across the room, I see the laughter glint in her eyes. I don't need to hear what she speaks of; I only know that I received the same affection on our first meeting. I yearn to take her in my arms and whisper low that I love her. I yearn to tear her from the clutches of this schemer and to show her what passion is.
But how can she hear me when he is already speaking? How can she focus on me when her attention is already captured by him? Why she appreciates his advances is beyond me, but all I can see is happiness. After so long, the happiness I longed to experience for myself is attached to another man, another soul. I no longer feel compatible with her. I try to show her that he shall only lead her into trouble, but she brushes me off, smiling an irritably relaxed smile that tells me she is innocent to his devious nature.
Truly, I have no recollection of a moment over the past months when I have not been battling with her struggling conscience that constantly demands approval. I love her, I love her, but how can she be interested in the matters of the estate, and of the tenants, and the land? How can she want to understand such fundamental, banal things that only a man has the right to know? Granted, Mary involves herself, but she is closer to the planning and discussions. Cora needs to realise there are things that she doesn't need t concern herself with.
I lean on the arms of the chair, my breathing ragged and halting. Everything has crashed about me, and I have no way of picking up the pieces. Her heart-broken, weary face is etched into my brain as I climb into bed in the cold dressing room. How can I ever trust her again? But...as I lie, trying to force sleep into claiming me, I realise how much her presence means to me. I realise the truth.
She loves me.
And I wouldn't change our relationship for the world.
She has a right to know, to be involved. I have been so careless, so ignorant.
I know that now.
I know that.
I must move on, with her hand in mine.
