Here we go, the next couple chapters! Terribly sorry it took me a while to post, thank you so much to you guys who alerted/ favorited the story – it means so much to me. I have the last two chapters mostly written, so just a short while until those are up as well! As always, I own nothing but the plot line of this story, I am merely playing with the characters created my Mr. Fellows.
Her recovery was a long one, the emotional wounds taking much longer to heal than the physical ones, even though the whole process was greatly shortened by Matthew's constant presence. He had practically moved into the Abbey, hardly ever leaving her bedside, and her first steps outside were taken with the unwavering support of his arm. Matthew never faltered in his delicate care and attention, nor did his strength waver. Nothing seemed to faze him; not even when Mary confided in him the extent of her pain, the months of abuse she had endured.
The wind whipped around them as they sat quietly on Mary's favorite bench in the garden, under the big tree. Matthew's jacket hung over Mary's shoulders and she was grateful for the extra warmth, for she had been terribly cold, but she still could do nothing to stop the shivers that had nothing to do with the bitter wind. Matthew looked over at Mary just in time to see a tear slip down her snow white cheek.
"Darling?" He asked softly.
"The inspector is coming to talk to me tomorrow," she replied slowly.
"Yes, I was told. You don't have to see him alone Mary."
"You will come in with me?"
"Of course, should you wish it."
"I do. Although, I have yet to tell you the whole truth, and I don't want you to hear anything tomorrow that you haven't heard before." She looked at him with big eyes.
"The whole truth, Mary?"
She looked away.
"The bruises you saw where not made that day, I'm sure you heard Dr. Clarkson. He said maybe a week old and I think he may be right, however, those are just the ones that had yet to heal."
"How long?" Matthew asked, trying to remain calm.
"I'm not really sure to be honest. I try to forget; three months, maybe four, whenever I said or did something he didn't approve of," she paused. When she spoke again, her voice shook with the memory, "or when he had too much to drink," she finished, closing her eyes as more tears slipped out.
"All this time you've kept your silence, and no one noticed." Matthew had hardly seen her in the past months, though he was inwardly repulsed that he had not noticed anything amiss when he had seen her.
"What could I say?" she responded sadly. Then her voice took on a more scathing tone, "Sir Richard was always very careful never to leave a mark where it would be seen, only ever in places that would be improper to reveal. I was trapped," she hissed through her teeth.
"But Mary, you could have told someone, you could have ended the engagement!"
"If only it was that simple! Matthew, should I do or say anything against him, he, he has the ability to ruin my family!"
"Whatever do you mean?" Matthew asked bewildered.
"That awful night, when you came under the blankets with me, I told you I have no virtue left. You didn't question me, so I presume you have heard the story by now."
"Actually, I was rather confused by that," he stammered, his face going slightly red, "but it seemed like a good enough excuse for me to climb in with you, so I let the matter drop."
Mary looked him straight in the eye and let it out.
"I took a lover. A lover, with no thought of marriage! It was the Turkish gentleman, Mr. Pamuk."
"The one who – "
"Yes, the one who died. He came into my room uninvited and unwanted, that is true, but I didn't turn him away for fear he would expose he had been in my room. He died in my room, in my arms, and I was forced to carry his corpse back to his room. I had help, but I won't dirty their names buy revealing them." She stopped to gather her breath before continuing her tale, "Last year, Mr. Bates' ex-wife somehow got a hold of this story and was trying to sell it to the papers, so I told Sir Richard and he bought the story, ensuring he had sole control over it. Vera Bates was bound in silence. That's the reason I agreed to marry him, if I didn't, he would run the story, but now, I suppose there is no hope of it staying hidden," Mary finished, eyes shining with tears. Every aspect of her face begged for his forgiveness and understanding. Matthew was horrified, barely able to comprehend what he had just been told.
"He was blackmailing you?" Matthew spat. Mary was surprised, she had been sure he was going to say something about the affair.
"Is it still blackmail if I gave him the information?" she responded sadly.
"Yes, yes it is Mary! You must tell the police everything you have just told me; it will be another criminal offence against Carlisle. We will stop him." The utter conviction and confidence in Matthew's voice calmed Mary.
"Very well, I shall tell them."
"You may, however, choose to leave out the particular details of your, umm, affair," he added with a slight smile.
"Oh Matthew, do you see now? This is why I never answered your proposal; I knew I could never accept without telling you. I couldn't bear the thought of losing your love, so I put off telling you, and then it was too late. That is the real reason Matthew, it had nothing to do with the baby or your inheritance, nothing at all, it never did!" Mary was crying again, pleading with him, desperately hoping that he could understand.
"Can you forgive me?" she whispered.
Matthew tucked away strands of chestnut hair the wind had pulled lose, and gently whipped away her tears with a brush of his thumb. He lowered his lips to hers, gently kissing her. When he pulled back, he looked into her impossibly deep eyes and said,
"Mary you've made a mistake; quite a few, I dare say. But then, so have I. How could I possibly be cross?"
"But I am not virtuous."
"You forget, I was not raised as you were. To me, your situation is to be frowned upon, but I would not end a marriage over it. You have paid dearly; I only wish I could have prevented so much heartbreak." He pulled her into his arms and she sighed deeply, falling into his embrace. He could feel her silent tears moistening his shirt as the wind continued to give flight to the leaves around them, and he looked around; the rolling green grass, the swaying flowers, the great house he had come to love dearly in the distance. This was his future. The thought of living, running, being in that house without her, he knew he couldn't do it. It was their future.
