More Than Duty Chapter 3
Robert's unexpected request had keep Matthew up for hours last night as he struggled to decide not only what he wanted to do, but what he ought to do. Sadly, no answers were quick in coming. He sincerely wanted to give Robert the peace he needed, but to marry someone who was so clearly not in love with him was not something Matthew was sure he could do.
He had tossed and turned for hours as he tried to sort out his feelings for Mary. There was no point in denying that he was physically attracted to her and had been for ages now, but he knew his feelings for her had grown beyond that in the past few weeks. He was not sure it was love, but he was almost certain it could be given time. No, it was't because of his feelings that he was hesitating, it was because of hers. He was fairly certain that she enjoyed his company now and at least felt friendship for him, but could that friendship ever develop into something more?
After hours of tossing and turning, he had finally fallen asleep, but he in his sleep he was tormented by most improper dreams of Mary. Dreams in which she lay beneath him, smiling up at him with love in her eyes as she met him kiss for kiss and stroke for stroke. When he woke panting from one of these dreams, he cursed his subconscious for adding to his confusion.
A glance at the clock revealed that he had woken late. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rose from the bed and dressed himself rather than ringing for his valet.
When he entered the breakfast room, Mary was already sitting at the table sipping tea as she flipped through a magazine. Her finger was idly running up and down her tea cup, and he felt the heat rush to his face as he thought of what she had been similarly stroking in his dream.
A cough that escaped him alerted her to his presence. "Matthew are you feeling well? You look quite flushed," Mary said as she took in his reddened face.
Matthew assured her that he was fine as he settled into the seat across from her. Ignoring him, she stood and gently pressed her hand to his forehead.
"Mary you needn't…"
"Oh hush. We can't have you getting sick," she said, frowning in confusion as she felt no trace of fever on his forehead. "Your temperature seems normal," she announced although her hand lingered longer than was necessary. Standing this close to him, she had an urge to run her fingers through his hair. She had no idea where such an inappropriate thought would have come from. Quickly, she yanked her hand away from him before her traitorous hand gave into temptation.
Settling back into her seat, she stole a glance at him as he busied himself reading the newspaper. There was no denying that he was a handsome man, but these recent urges frightened her. Somehow, over the past few days, she had become more aware of him. Now, whenever she stood close to him, she noticed his inviting scent, the way his hair was blown gently in the wind during their walk, and the strength in his arm when she squeezed it in encouragement at an idea he had proposed. She had strange yearnings to lean in closer, to find an excuse to touch him, and on more than one occasion, she had contemplated what it would be like to kiss him. These feelings were most unsettling for her because she had only felt them once before and that had ended in tragedy and ruin. No, she must shut away these feelings. She might be starting to want him, but he would never want her - not if he knew the truth.
"Friday is Papa's birthday," Mary announced, trying to focus her mind on something else.
"Is that so?" Matthew said, pleased to have something to focus on other than his lustful thoughts.
"Yes, I thought perhaps I would invite Aunt Rosamund down from London and arrange a nice dinner."
"I think he would enjoy that - give him a sense of normality."
"Then it is settled. I will arrange it this afternoon."
"If you are doing that this afternoon, perhaps we could walk out this morning instead," he offered, feeling oddly put out that they might miss their daily afternoon walk that he had begun to look forward to each day.
"Or perhaps we could ride instead? I have neglected poor Diamond for weeks now."
"Certainly. We could ride across the estate and inspect the cottage that needs repair," he suggested.
"What a good idea. Shall we meet at the stables in an hour? That will give me time to arrange for some refreshments?"
"I shall look forward to it," he said, smiling at her as she left the room.
An hour later, the pair was ridding across the grounds. Mary was enjoying the feel of the sun and wind on her face. Looking over at Matthew, she had to admit that he cut a fine figure on a house. He may not have been raised as a gentleman, but he certainly had the look of one.
"How well can you ride?" she asked.
"Well enough. Why?" he asked in confusion.
"Well enough to give the horses free rein to run?" she asked, craving the feeling of a good gallop.
"I haven't been unseated in years. I think I can handle a race against a lady," he assured her.
"Well then," she said, spurring Diamond into action and laughing as Matthew was left stare at her in shock. It only took him a moment to react before he was urging his horse to take chase. Despite his encouragement, Matthew's horse was unable to catch Mary's and he was nearly a minute behind her when she stopped Diamond as a small stream. Pulling his horse to a stop next to her, he found her laughing and grinning freely in a manner he had never seen before. This free Mary was absolutely enticing, and he had the overwhelming urge to reach out, pull her to him, and kiss her senseless. He shook his head at the thought, thinking not only was it inappropriate, but it would likely result in him getting a well deserved slap.
He dismounted and then helped her do the same. "To the victor," he said as he offered her a drink from the bag Mrs. Patmore had packed. Still laughing, she took it from him and drank greedily from it. Matthew's eyes followed a tiny drop of water that escaped her lips and slid slowly down her chin, chastising himself for his desire to lean in and capture that drop with his lips.
"I think perhaps you cheated," he teased.
"I certainly did no such thing."
"Perhaps you gave me the slowest horse in the stables."
"He is not the slowest, and Lynch selected your horse - not me."
"And who is Lynch loyal to?" Matthew asked playfully as he sat down and leaned his back against a tree.
"Matthew! You will get your clothing all dirty," she scolded.
"Well, we haven't a blanket," he said with a shrug, not really worried about the state of his clothing.
"Still, it is not very proper."
"Well, I suppose I am not very proper. Now, come sit down. You need a rest."
"I can't. The damp ground would ruin my dress." Her protest was cut off by Matthew standing and removing his coat. "What on earth are you doing?"
"Making it so you can sit down," he replied as he placed the coat on the ground in front of where he had been sitting and then resumed his previous position motion for her to sit on the coat.
"You cannot be serious."
"Why not? You can sit on the coat and lean against me and you shall be just as tidy when you get up as you were when we arrived."
"Oh very well. But it is highly improper so you mustn't tell," she said as she gave up her protest.
His laughter was cut short by the sensation of Mary's back coming to rest flush against his chest. Improper indeed, he thought as he tried to create a little space between them. "Comfortable?"
"A lady wouldn't answer that question," she said thinking that comfortable is not exactly how she would describe her current position. She was intensely aware of the feeling of him pressed up against her back and the smell of him that she found so pleasing seemed heightened. She desperately searched for something to take her mind of these dangerous thoughts.
"You look tired Mary. Are you sleeping properly?" he asked with concern.
"I was plagued with unpleasant dreams last night," she said. He didn't need to ask to know that those dreams almost certainly included losing her father. "Tell me a story," she suddenly said.
"What?"
"When I was little and I needed my mind taken away from some childhood hurt, Papa would always tell me a story to take my mind miles away to another place - sometime he told me about places he had been or tales that he had heard. Never mind. It was a silly idea."
"It is not a silly idea. I am not a very good story teller, but I could try," he said knowing that he would be willing to try just about anything to take her hurts away even if was only for a little while.
"Something nice mind you."
"Alright, just give me a moment to think," he said as he racked his brain to try to find a story to share with her. "What do you know of Welsh history?" he asked.
"Almost nothing. Why?"
"I thought of a story that might do. Several years ago I traveled with a few chaps from university to Welsh island of Anglesey. It is a beautiful place with amazing coastline. My traveling companions wanted to go shooting one day. I am truly terrible at it and not wanting to be the butt of their jokes for the rest of the trip, I feigned a headache and stayed behind. So instead, I explored the village of Llanfaes. I decided to stop into a pub for something to eat and met a most interesting gentleman who shared with me a story I have never forgotten." He paused and looked to Mary who, while facing forward, appeared to be interested.
"He told me of a woman who lived long ago and was buried on the island. She was called Joan, Lady of Wales. She had been born the illegitimate daughter of King John of England, and he had arranged for her marriage to Llywelyn Prince of Wales. You see being illegitimate, there was nothing her father could give her in England, but the Welsh were not as concerned about illegitimacy so in arranging this marriage, he gave her fortune, security, and title."
"She was lucky."
"More than you yet know. For you see, this arranged marriage became one of love. It endured despite all number of obstacles including a series of wars between her husband and her father. But one day, Llywelyn came home unexpectedly, and found his wife in their bedchamber with a lover."
"I thought this was supposed to be a nice story," Mary complained, not wanting to let on that she actually pitied Joan, since as Mary knew, it may not have been entirely her choice.
"Don't judge the story before I have finished it," Matthew said, noticing that Mary had twisted around to face him as he continued with the story.
"So what happened next."
"Well Llywelyn was obviously upset and had the lover executed. He would have been within his rights to have Joan executed too or at the very least to divorce her and keep custody of their children. But he could not bring himself to do. Instead, he sent her away and had her kept under house arrest."
"This is not a nice story," Mary companied again. She was beginning to get agitated as the story was touching too close to home for her liking.
"Just listen. Before even a year had pasted, he realized that he could not live without her - that he loved her enough to forgive even that great of a betrayal. So he braved the humiliation of having an adulterous wife by his side, brought her back, and restore all her to all honors. He loved her enough to forgive her completely. Years later when she died, he was heartbroken. He founded a Franciscan friary on the shore at Llanfaes in her honor and buried her there."
"She must have been very beautiful," Mary commented, wondering how it was possible to forgive adultery.
"I suppose she probably was, but it must have been more than that. There are many beautiful women, and being a Prince, it would not have been hard for him to find another one, so it had to be something more. Something about her that he knew he could not find anywhere else. Ever since I heard that story, I was astounded by it. His love must have been greater than any I had read in the classics for this story really happened. I wonder how many people have known love like that."
"Could you ever forgive something like that," Mary asked earnestly, her eyes meeting his and waiting patiently for his answer.
"I don't know. It seems like a very hard thing to do, but I suppose if you love someone enough, you could forgive just about anything."
Mary silently contemplated his answer and wondered for the first time if perhaps he might forgive her for the incident with Mr. Pamuk. She quickly scolded herself for such a thought. While her sin was perhaps a lesser sin than adultery, Matthew did not love her and therefore had no reason to forgive.
TBC
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. The story of Llywelyn and Joan is true and if you wish to read an amazing book about it, I highly recommend Sharon Penman's Here Be Dragons. I used the story here because it fits nicely with the path I plan to have Mary and Matthew follow here. It will be rocky but I promise it will end well. I hope you will take the time to let me know what you think.