Mary ran straight through the hall and up the stairs. She sat at her dressing table in her room and stared at the mirror in anger, remembering that night with Matthew.
After a jovial evening, the family went up to bed, leaving Mary and Matthew to catch the last gusts of warmth in the living room, watching the embers die in the fireplace.
"Mary?"
"Hmm?" She blinked.
"There's something you must know before you turn me down."
"Can't you see? I already have, and I know what you're going to say - but there just isn't a way out, unless you should want to despise me for the rest of your life."
"Mary. I - I believe this makes a difference." Matthew pushed. The lighting flirted with his complexion as he studied her earnestly.
"Oh fine, I'm listening. But after this I don't want to hear anymore."
"The thing is, I think I know the reason now. I think I... I know why you say we can't marry. Unless I flatter myself of course," he smiled.
"I'm sure you don't, but go on."
"Pamuk," he held his breath.
Mary's heart skipped. She stared disturbed. "You can't possibly - how?"
"I don't know, an anonymous letter came for me yesterday afternoon. I didn't recognise the hand. I wasn't sure what to believe, but I figured what other reason would you have?"
"Oh Matthew. I can't look you in the face. Not now."
"But you see, I can. The way I see you hasn't changed, and if that's the reason you say we stay apart then I'm afraid I can't agree. Marry me, Mary."
She didn't look like she could manage a word, it felt like a lifetime before she spoke. "Do you have the letter with you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. I thought you'd need evidence though I felt obliged to burn the thing." He handed it to her from the inside of his dinner jacket.
Mary read, wide-eyed. "I didn't drag him you know, I have a little more integrity than that which is the most I can say for myself. I had help. Whoever wrote this really illustrates with the most vulgarity," Mary breathed in stress.
"I thought so."
"But what else is there to say other than the fact that I went to bed with this man and he died the same night? I didn't kill him?" Mary cried. "I can't believe this... Oh - the whole thing - I don't understand - who told you? How can't it matter? Can't you see I'm ruined, and if I marry you I'll only drag you down with me if enough strangers know about it to be sending letters to your door."
"Mary, look at me," he placed her hand in his. "Of course I've been more than shocked for the past twelve hours, but I've had time, and... I love you, that matters."
She had never felt more cherished or more humiliated in her life. And to know the whole time it had been her own sister, this meant revenge.
The door behind her opened, Mary pivoted to see her husband, standing in the doorway. "Matthew, but we weren't expecting you back from London until tomorrow evening?"
"A nice surprise I had hoped."
"Oh darling don't mistake my mood for finding you unwelcome."
"What is it, Mary?"
"It was Edith!"
"What? Who?"
"It was from Edith, the anonymous letter."
"What letter?"
"Before we married."
"...That letter. How - why would Edith...? I don't believe you've got it right, my darling."
"Oh I've got it right. It's like living with Satan."
"How can you be sure? How could Edith have known?"
"I can only guess, it turns my insides out thinking about it. And I'm sure, you need only ask her. She's in the library."
"My darling," he sat on the bed behind Mary looking stricken. "Come here."
She sat next to him and Matthew enveloped her with his arms. "I can hardly look at her," Mary seethed.
"Mary, it was a long time ago now. Don't let it upset you so much, it's not what you deserve. After all, however you felt in the beginning, I'm sure looking back you feel better with me knowing."
"I'm not sure I deserve a husband like you" Mary said morosely, but with a smile on her face.
"Speaking of letters," Matthew started. "I've just have a most peculiar invitation to tea tomorrow from Anthony Strallen."
"What does he want?"
"I'm not sure, but it sounded as if he wanted my help with something."
"Something?"
"'A sensitive topic' is how he phrased it."
"Perhaps he has a testicular problem to concern you with."
"... don't be so risqué'." Matthew reprimanded with every sign of a smirk in his voice. They laughed.
