Staring in her mirror, Mary watched her personal maid twist the last curl just so. She wanted everything to be perfect.

"Thank you, Liana. It looks wonderful."

"No problem Mrs. Would you like for me to help with your gown?"

After receiving an affirmative answer, Liana quickly and efficiently helped with her corset and gown. As soon as she finished, Liana was dismissed from the room and Mary turned to study her reflection in the mirror. Her dress was solid in color, a deep blue that was so dark it appeared black until the light shined directly on it. The bust, cuffs, and length of the skirt were accented by a simple black lace. The neckline, although by no means immodest, was different than her normal wear. When she had ordered the dress, the designer, Madame Deluge, had taken it upon herself to change the neckline. Mary did not return to her shop after her impertinence.

Mary stood debating whether she should wear the dress for a long while. Giggling nervously, she told herself that she was being silly. It was still far more modest than the day's fashions called for, and she was wearing it for her husband after all. No one else would see her. And it was very flattering. The dress, rather than beginning at her throat, wrapped around her shoulders, exposing her collarbone. It fit tightly down to her hips, showing off her small waist made tiny by the tightened corset, before flaring out in flowing waves of silk and light fabric, reaching to the floor. To complete the ensemble, Liana had pulled her hair up in a soft design that suited her face well, and she wore small black heels.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she headed down the stairs to check on dinner preparations, then settled on the coach to wait for James to arrive home from work.


"Really and truly, Uncle James?! Yay! Mother, Mother! Guess what? We're going horseback riding with Uncle James! Hurry Mother!"

Laughing, Sylvia let herself be pulled along by little Jack. "Now what's all this about? I'm quite sure I haven't heard a word of any of this from James!"

"That's because I just thought of it myself." Sylvia gasped and spun around to see James leaning against a tree in her front yard. "Oh, you startled me. What did you just think of?"

"Horseback riding at a friend's country estate, along with a picnic at the end of the trail. Well, what do you think?" He developed the tone of a child. "Please? We promise to be good - most of the time anyway."

Giggling, she gave in to the pleas of the most important men in her life. They all had a marvelous time together, as usual, with James playing make-believe with the boys the whole evening.

It would be very late that night before James returned home to find Mary asleep on the couch, the evidence of tears on her cheeks.


Mary woke to a familiar scent, a sandalwood cologne that she would forever relate in her mind to her husband, and a soft, slightly moist pressure on her cheek. Did he just kiss me? But when she opened her eyes, he was settled on the table in front of her and gave no sign of having kissed her. She stared at him with sorrowful eyes, a little embarrassed and still upset. The look of admiration in his eyes as they slowly took in her dress helped the matter greatly, however. Finally, after a long period of silence, she spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, Mary?"

"I'm sorry I read your journal without your permission, James."

"I'm the one that should apologize. I overreacted. I only wished you had asked. It's not that I mind that you know my thoughts. Not really. It's just…why? Why the sudden interest?"

"Curiosity I suppose. I wanted to know who my husband is."

James reached out, pushing a curl out of her eyes.

"You don't have to steal my journal to get to know me, Mary."

"I don't? How else then James?" She grabbed his hand before he pulled it away. "Would you finally be willing to put me first? Would you willingly give us the chance to get to know one another?"

James stared down at their hands. He knew what she wanted, knew what she meant. From the evidence around him, he could see that she wanted them to fight for whatever they might have left. But would he be able to go back? Could he bring himself to back away from his current commitments enough to give another try at something he had come so close to giving up on?

"What more do you want of me, Mary?" The words themselves were harsh, but his tone was soft, his accent sounding a bit stronger than normal.

She cringed, knowing he referred to the fact that he had loved her when she hadn't loved him. Still, she refused to lash out in defense, but instead gave a calm reply. "I want you to come home to me, James. When rehearsals are finished, I want you to return home rather than going anywhere but here – rather than going with them. Can you do that James? Can you give us just that much?"

He stared at her for several minutes, considering her words and weighing their value. A small, sideways grin came across his face. "And what of you? Will you be here, or will you be off helping with your latest charity social?"

"I'll be here James. But if you're not, then I'll know that there isn't anything left for us. I will know that you don't want me here any longer."

Before James could object to her statement, she went up the stairs and returned to her dark bedroom. James followed soon after, but turned instead to the left, returning once again to the world of light within his imagination.


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