My Darling Love

Chapter 33 – Points in Mary's Favor

"To a well deserving person, God will show favor. To an ill-deserving person He will simply be just."

-Plaut

"Oh George, it is a torrid tale. Between what Mary told me this very morning, John told me a week ago, Wendy told me just yesterday, and what Millicent and Mr. Baker have been telling me all along, I could write a sordid novel if I wasn't a man of the cloth and bound by my own vows. I still think you're going to burn in hellfire on Satan's lap and your brother will probably be sitting right beside you keeping you company. Your only salvation will be from Mary Elizabeth, so be kind to her. She not only says her penance for her own sins, she says them for yours as well and that, my good man, is love. Your penance is seven rosaries, plus you should perform a good act of contrition for wanting to kill your brother. Let us pray, have mercy on George in your kindness, dear Lord, and wash from him his sins..."

George left the confessional, and a woman who stood waiting to be the next to recount her sins, having overheard the previous evening and morning's events in George's own words, shot him a look of disgust. He lowered his head in shame and rushed to Mary's side, she still deep in her prayers.

"First mass of the morning, like when we were first married?" George asked in a whisper as mass was now beginning. Mary nodded her head. "Why did you not tell me of my brother?" George's questions continued as others around shushed him.

"Say your prayers like the priest told you to," Mary quietly directed.

"I forgot my rosary," George responded, hunching his shoulders.

"It's in your pocket, George." He looked in his pocket and found them where the bedtime fairy left it and began his penance.

It took him the whole mass and an extra hour to finish, and Mary waited with him in silence still on her knees. The Darling family in its entirety -- with the exception of George and Mary -- went to breakfast at a café on the corner. When he was finished, George sat back on the pew and tugged on Mary to follow. Alone in the church, with only an altar boy down front extinguishing the candles, they sat, both of them deep in thought. They both began to speak at the same time; both out of turn and then fell silent again.

"You go first. Start with Peter please," George urged Mary with his eyes and so she began.

"I met your brother, George, in the park when I was fifteen. I was dancing about with Penny, pretending we were at the lord mayor's ball. I was teaching her how to waltz; she spun me about and right into your brother. Now if I was fifteen, that would have made you twenty-two, and since he is fifteen years your senior that made him thirty- seven on that day in particular and he looked every inch of it. He was an older gentleman dressed in a fine suit, carrying his newspaper, heading off to work, I assumed, as Penny and I were already late for school. I apologized for my clumsiness.

"He smiled at me, not at all nicely -- well, I'm not sure how to describe it, but it made me very uncomfortable. He asked me if I would like to go dancing for real, and I declined, being only fifteen, and he said my age of was no importance to him. He would not let go of my hand, and became rather insistent that I accompany him from the park. He told me he was going to tell my father I was a flirt, and began to drag me from the park, 'I'm taking you to your father, you silly little twit,' he told me, 'and I'm going to tell him how rude you are.' He started to yell when I gave him more trouble. Penny's mother caught us at that time, for she was on her way to the grocer, and she told Peter if he did not release me, she would call the constable. Your brother tipped his hat to me, and left without another word. And from that day on, I saw him everywhere I went. I saw him when I would walk to my piano lessons, from school, to my house, to church and to the bank. He kept smiling at me with that same grin that made my skin crawl." Mary turned to George who was fixing his glasses on his face. "Did you know that?"

"Know what, Mary?" he asked, and Mary turned from her husband shaking her head.

"That your brother Peter made me skin crawl from the first time I ever set eyes upon him George..." she retorted and again there was silence.

George shifted awkwardly in his seat and offered, "I thought the first time you met him was at my parent's winter formal. But you don't remember being there."

Mary glanced heavenward and made the sign of the cross, silently asking for forgiveness for her impolite gesture of irritation. "I remember George. I remember your brother following me around the entire night, whispering the foulest things in my ear, describing in great detail what he intended to do with me when he finally had me alone with none other around. I also remember you standing next to your mother watching."

George's look of surprise and concern were unmistakable. "When I asked why he was bothering you, Peter said you were a horrible tease, playing hard to get. I felt sorry for you."

George was interrupted by Mary's bitter laugh, "You felt sorry for me? Are you sure it was me you felt sorry for?"

George jerked his head toward Mary and responded, "Yes, I did. I felt very sorry for you because I know how Peter can be when pursuing a lady he desires. So I offered you punch, thinking you could follow me to the punch bowl where your mother was standing. But you stayed with Peter, which led me to believe you were actually enjoying his attentions. As I returned to you, he tripped me and I fell into you, and ACCIDENTALLY brushed your bosom, Mary. I tried to extend my apologies but you wouldn't hear of it and slapped me, calling me, of all people, horridly cruel names. You broke my spectacles and I was blind as a bat for a week before I could replace them. And, if I remember correctly, Peter and you, my dear wife, laughed at me," he accused her, as he was already growing argumentative

"I most certainly did not laugh at you, George Darling, that was your brother who was cackling. I was so humiliated I ran from the room and all the way home with my Aunt Millicent at my heels. As far as not following you to the punch bowl, it was rather difficult, with your bother pinching the back of my dress so that if I moved any direction but closer to him, it would have torn. Peter told me you were his younger brother, although he did not call you George, he used another name, and while you were fetching me a glass of drink from the punch that had been mixed with liquor he told me what you both intended to do with me once I was drunk from it. 'You must drink it, dearest Mary, it would insult my parents if you refused.' I did not slap you, George, that I remember, nor call you names, and that is why I also deny that encounter with you ever happened. I tell everyone the story that seems to speak the truth of the situation, although I assure you, it didn't happen that way." Mary's voice had risen as she defended herself, and now her disposition cooled quicker then George's, who was still quite perturbed. "I'm sorry you think I broke your spectacles, George."

The church was quiet, they the only two left inside, and once again there was nothing but quiet between them.

"I still saw Peter around after that, not every day, but often. He would offer me a ride in his carriage, or follow me when I strolled in the park or to and from my lessons with Aunt Millicent."

"Well, Mary, if you felt him a nuisance, you should have said something to someone." George was exasperated, and it showed in his voice, "I mean, really, how foolish of you, Mary, you have a older gentleman constantly chasing after you, and you said absolutely nothing. What were you thinking?"

Her voice was soft. "I was only sixteen, George, not twenty-five or thirty. I was not even allowed to court with a boy my own age, let alone know what those vile things meant when he said them. Do you not remember our wedding night, George? I didn't even know what consummate and favor meant, and those words are acceptable formalities. Can you imagine what it is like to hear an adult speak with sentiments that sound foreign to your ears? Even with that, it was never his words that frightened me; it was the look in his eyes when he said them, his expression, and his tone. The emotion displayed there frightened me, for I was only a child. I told my Aunt Millicent, and she told me the same thing he did, 'You are a silly twit and I am going to tell your father that you are being a nasty flirt leading a older well respected gentleman on in such a way.' How do you think that made me feel? I tell you, George, it made me feel like, well, like a silly little twit." Mary kept her eyes on her husband as she explained; George kept his eyes on his shoes, not even giving her the courtesy of his attention.

"Well Mary, what of the letters? I found only one of his letters in your vanity. It said he's been writing you letters." Now he raised his eyes to her, and taking the exact stance his father-in-law warned him against, his method grew antagonistic.

"He only began writing to me after we were engaged. Peter, in his first letter, asked me to refuse you and marry him instead. I declined, and asked him politely to never write to me again. I warned him that I would tell you of his obsession with me, and he informed me you would never believe such a thing because you are brothers. He continued to write, until he found out I was expectant, then he sent one last letter, informing me that you confessed to him that you meant to leave yourself inside of me so I would have to marry you, and you would finally have one up over him, since he was a far more successful gentleman that you ever would be. I knew that was not possible, for there was never a need for you to be deceitful with me in that way. After your family disowned you, I never thought of it, and I was relieved that it was all over and I would never have to see him again. Even after he returned to retrieve your mother, he showed no further interest in me, so I did not think it necessary to bring it up and remind anyone of his old affections. Anyway, he seemed to have accepted our marriage and was happy for us." She watched George's expression change from animosity to an odd emptiness.

She continued. "He was good with the children, and I thought he had changed. What good would it have done for me to bring up the past as we were well living in the present? Then he invited us to his estate in France. From the moment we arrived I knew he had an ulterior motive, and that mess with his wife and his offer to you was my proof. He pulled me aside before we left and told me one way or another I would be his, and just because it didn't work this time didn't mean it wouldn't work another. As far as he was concerned, you had already taken the bait. All of the bait in fact, for not only did he tempt you with other women, he changed your entire personality and made you a completely different sort of gentleman right before my very eyes. There was nothing I could do, but stand and watch." She glared, hurt, at his blank face. It was almost like he doubted her words, as if it were possible to make something like this up.

"You could have done something, Mary. You could have told me," George sighed while shaking his head, the anger yet again looming deep inside of him.

"I did, George, I did." Mary clutched his arm and touched his face to turn him to her. "I told you I wanted to go home."

George yanked his arm from her violently, "Yes, Mary, home to the children."

So now she swallowed her hurt and presented him with a matter-of-fact tone, "The children had not run away yet, George, this was during the time when it was just you and me and no other. You told me not to speak ill of Peter, for he was your family. Your brother has been sending me letters since we returned from Paris. I never told you because of all the wonderful things you said of him for hosting that holiday for us, and I know how much you admired him as you were growing up. And in the back of my mind, perhaps ... perhaps I thought you wouldn't believe me anyway. You don't now, and you even read his letter. He asked me to visit with him when in London, for his business brought him here often. I always declined as graciously as I could, and thanked him for the invitation in a manner that -- I hoped --- he would interpret as me being ignorant of his intentions. Every time I received a letter, I responded quickly, as required by proper etiquette, and every letter I received, I burned in the fireplace.

She drew a shuddering breath. "As the months drew on, his letters became more troublesome, and much more descriptive of the visit and favors he was hoping for. Those I responded to with rather rude and abrupt language, to dissuade any further attempts to gain my favor. Obviously, it didn't work, and he threatened to bring the most gorgeous woman he could find in Paris with him on his next trip to tempt you away, to prove to me that you would do the same thing to me if given the chance. Between his continued torture that I hid to protect you, and the children growing up and away before my eyes, Aunt Millicent stealing Margaret and then bending my ear about what a lovely young lady she raised that would marry far better than our Wendy, and countless other insults and duties I have as wife and mother -- well, you can imagine I was quite preoccupied. I left you to your own resources, which I have discovered was my greatest mistake."

As Mary spoke, she kept her eyes forward to the altar and the cross that hung above. George watched his wife and when she took a breath after blaming herself, he interjected without thinking, "After what happened in Paris, you should have told me everything. From the time you first met him, until we were engaged, and everything in between, every single letter, note and evil invitation you should have shown me so I could have read it for myself! You allowed him to plot against me. This was just your way of testing me to see if I meant what I said after what had transpired with his wife. So I was right after all? Were you ignoring me deliberately, to prove a point to my brother that no matter how badly you treated me, I would still follow after you?" His tone was irate as he gnashed his teeth to keep what little patience he had left.

Mary tried to explain further "George, it was not deliberate, and I would never test you in such a way. I trusted you. You must believe me. I trusted my whole life to you, George. You are my life and I believed you felt the same about me. The thought that you would ever consider adultery never crossed my mind. I've been living in absolute fear of my life, George, for Peter said he was going to come over and steal me away. Not dance me off to the lord mayor's ball, but actually kidnap me, rape me, kill our children if he had to just to have me all to himself."

But George just raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. "In a letter he told you this?" Mary nodded her head quickly, "And let me see, that letter went into the fireplace instead of my hands. How convenient. He threatens to kill our children and you burn the proof of his menace. So now not only are you deliberate in your misdeeds, you are a liar as well. You expect me to believe my brother Peter capable of doing such things?"

Mary watched her husband as he shook his head back and forth so forcefully it looked as if any moment it would pop off.

"George, Peter took you away from me after we vowed to be as one forever. Yes, I think he is capable of those things. Yes, I have seen his malice for myself. You'd be sorry if you came home after what I have just informed you of and found me missing after I warned you of his threats, would you not?"

"The only thing I will ever be sorry about, Mary, is that your neglect and constant hiding of the truth about Peter left me no other choice than to take another lover. I think you liked receiving his affections and his letters, probably made you feel exceptional to still have an admirer after all these years."

Mary clutched to his arm, and, with tears in her eyes, pleaded with him one final time before she would accept the end, "George, we were married in the eyes of God, and I hold those vows in the highest regard! I have never been unfaithful to you, and there has never been anything anyone could have done to me or for me, including you, that would make me take another. He came, George, I had to beat him off with my hands! You must believe me. You and I took sacred vows to protect one another; I protected you as best I could, that included burning his letters. Either you'd be dead or he would be, maybe both, if you had seen what he had written. Do you think I want to see you murdered, do you think I want to see you called a murderer? I know I was wrong, and went about in the worst possible way. But please, I told you I would rather cut my heart from my own chest than offend yours."

With a nasty sneer, George stood, readying himself to leave without her, and retorted, "Protect me? You fed me to the lions! I took the same vows you did, Mary, and after living with you these past few years, I must admit some of those vows should be broken, no matter what was promised to God and to each other. As far as I'm concerned, my heart is indeed offended, so go ahead, Mary, prove to me your undying love and loyalty, cut your heart out."

Mary rose as well and grabbed George by the arm, catching him before he stalked off, "I never fed you to the lion, George."

"Go to hell, Mary," George told her bluntly.

Now God was still watching, and George could say whatever he wanted in the Darling house, but not in His. So he sent George a message, a point to be received in Mary's favor that her husband would never forget, not as long as he lived on. The priest and his assistant rolled a coffin down to the front that must have been crafted from the finest wood the carpenter had to offer. A man dressed head to toe in black, a number of years younger than George, followed after them crushed in his sorrow. As the coffin sat in its resting place, the last place it would stand before being lowered into the ground, the man threw himself upon it and called after his wife who lay inside. "I'm truly sorry, my love, I am so sorry! Please forgive me my sins. Please forgive me for not saving you at a time you needed me the most. Forgive me for not telling you one last time how much I love you. Forgive me for leaving you defenseless! Forgive me, my love, hear me in heaven!" He wailed in agony that echoed through the church. "Oh God have mercy on me a sinner! God in heaven, have mercy on me a sinner!"

The priest strolled by shaking his head back to Mr. and Mrs. Darling, and inquired if they would be staying for the funeral mass for it would not be starting for a few hours. "Oh dear, what happened to that poor man?" Mary asked, retaking her seat as now the undertaker was forced to stop the man from opening the casket and climbing inside.

"They were a very young couple, newly married with no children. Their home was robbed and his wife was raped and murdered by her assailant while he was away on business. It was all over the papers. She was dead for days before he found her. Apparently they quarreled before he left, and the guilt of his actions against her unresolved have consumed him."

There, in the deepest darkest crevices of George's mind, the light of truth finally shone in and presented him with all encompassing white. As Mary and the priest chatted on about the crime and the funeral to follow, George held his stare to the coffin. The widower charged the casket, knocking the lid open, and there, resting inside was not the dearly departed wife of the young man, but Mary Elizabeth Darling dressed in heavenly white. Upon her head she wore a crown of pink roses. In one hand she held a dagger and in the other, she held her heart, broken and bleeding. She had her eyes closed as she lay there dying, but still she managed her last words to her husband forever, "my heart offended you, George, and so I have cut it from my chest....for you..." So shocked was George, he spun about to gaze down at his own wife, safely sitting at his side, still deep in conversation with the pastor.

At that exact moment George recognized himself as the sinner, and not the young man now a widower. He held tightly to Mary's hand to gain her attention from the scene before them as he sat down. The priest parted Mr. And Mrs. Darling with, "In love, most couples never know when the last words will be spoken, leaving the one behind in silence forever. That is why we should not only speak with compassion, but listen with understanding and appreciation for the time with have been blessed with on this earth."

Mary turned to face her husband of nineteen years and with her looking at him he said, "You trusted me with your heart and your life and I failed you. I know it was not a test; for my words alone led you to believe what I said was the truth and no further proof to you was needed. The fact that you were wrong about your own husband, whom you spent the greater part of your life with, has broken your heart. My promises, Mary, my broken promises broke your blessed heart and not only made me a deaf, dumb and blind, but a liar and a cheater."

She held his hand just as firmly, he fixing his spectacles on his face, wiping his brow, trying to be strong and valiant with enough courage to look his wife in the face, he continued, "I was untrustworthy of your love, and stole from you the solitude of my affections. For all of that I am sorry. I'm also sorry for taking another to bed and breaking my wedding vows. I lied yesterday, there were no others, Mary that you are not already aware of, and the pain that I feel for injecting that misconception, and shadowing your mind is unbearable to me. I'm sorry for my brother's advances, and I'm sorry for the torment you endured from him as well as myself all these years. I'm sorry I defiled our house, the place you feel most protected, in my atrocious endeavor to make you jealous. I was the one testing you, to see how much you truly loved me and to see if you would chase after me and win back my heart, which was, after all, always yours. Your words of continued commitment to me every night when we retired alone should have been enough. But I was stupid, greedy and selfish. I'm sorry for sharing my life with a woman unworthy of such an honor, and I'm sorry for making you think she could hold a candle to your beauty, kindness, and your decency. I'm sorry for accusing you for things I know are untrue, things I said only in anger, like you wanting to receive my brother's letters. I am sorry I called you a whore, for that shall be my title from now on. I am sorry I spilled punch on your dress. I am sorry I didn't buy you pretty things, and I am sorry I didn't let you spend our money freely all these years. You were right that night long ago; you are overworked and underpaid for your profession. I am sorry that I made you stand alone, defenseless in the world. I am sorry for all my other sins countless in number that I've committed against you since the moment we met. And I'm sorry for insulting God in His own house and telling Him and you that the promises we make before Him deserve to be broken, because I swear on my life and the life of my children I didn't mean that, either. Please don't cut your heart out, for without it, mine will not beat either. Your sin was a small one, mine was the greater, and I beseech you to forgive me because I love you more than I love myself."

Mary looked to her husband, and with her eyes that told him everything words could never say, she said, "I forgive you George, and I'm sorry, too. I should have told you everything. We promised a long time ago not to keep secrets from one another, but I always try to protect you and everyone else I love. I don't want anyone to ever break your heart or make you think you are not worthy to be called a gentleman. You are a good husband and a good father, and I love you, George Darling, more than I love anyone else in the world, including myself. I said many things in anger, too, that I did not mean. It hurts me incessantly that I did not make enough room for you in my life when you needed me. And I am sorry for all my sins against you that are also countless in number, from before we met." They both stood after saying a prayer for the couple that death had parted, and just before they left the church, Mary had to clarify one last detail to her husband.

"George, I never fed you to the lion," Mary repeated staring straight ahead.

George stopped Mary and held both her hands to his heart. He had no idea what she meant, but concurred with her nonetheless for the sincerity in her voice spoke of another truth unknown to him at the time. "I know Mary."

They walked slowly home holding hands, taking a detour through the park. Where they first kissed, on that very bench, George gave Mary her kiss. So long had it been since it had been placed there in the corner of her mouth, she kept her finger upon it the rest of the way home to make sure it didn't flee or fall off.

As they reached their front door, George offered one more olive branch to Mary who remained silent, trying to erase the woes of her mind. "I want you to know that when I came to your window on your -- on our wedding day, and you did not seem so willing to be rescued, I wanted to climb the rose trellis and forcefully carry you down. I was afraid if you kicked and screamed you would cause us both to fall and I wouldn't be able to save you. So, I decided I was going to kidnap you from the church, that is where I was heading when you threw down your suitcase..."

Mary smiled and leaned her head into his, interrupting his reverse of mouth, trying to take back the sentiment said at a time of anger when it was not meant. "Promise me George that the rest of our years together will be happy ones and full of love with only mild disappoints of unforeseeable errors not done intentionally and easily forgiven."

"I promise and I give me my word for what its worth. Please don't forget me when I burn in hell, Mary, after death parts us and pray for me when you are in heaven."

Mary touched her hands to his face and then pulled him to her embrace. "I told you, George, I would never let you burn. I will enter into hell and retrieve you with an army of angels if I have to. Although after today I don't think that will be necessary. God is compassionate and magnanimous to those who ask for forgiveness, and if I can pardon your sins, He can too. Even still, if you are sent to Satan without absolution, God in his grandeur could not keep me from you."

God was listening and He concurred, with no need to keep Mary from George, or them from their family, God smiled from ear to ear and then went off to handle other matters in need of resolution.

The Darling house was full of people, all waiting for George and Mary with anticipation. They entered, both happy to find reconciliation with each other, and the children were thankful and led their parents up the stairs to their room. "You are to dress in your nightclothes and get into bed. We have a special surprise for you." A most unusual request as it was already the middle of the afternoon, but they complied just the same, and only moments later, Wendy knocked and asked for admittance. She was granted it and she came in followed by John carrying a tray of fresh muffins, tea and all the fixings. "Breakfast in bed. A very romantic idea I read about in one of my novels." The children left their parents to their meal and to their make-up and cleared out the house to give them privacy. "Alright everyone, let's go to Uncle Harry's and clean up his dump, as mother calls it."

After the delicious breakfast, George peeked down the stairs to make sure the house was empty. He returned to Mary who was waiting very naked under the blankets. As George began his seduction by kissing her neck Mary asked, "George was that girl a better lover, I mean, did she do things to you that you liked that I don't do? You said I was lacking in certain measures, what measures?"

George stopped and swallowed hard and then answered, "No, and please don't ask me anymore questions about it, because I have already forgotten. And Mary, I just said what I said because I was angry, you are the finest lover in all of London." He kissed down her body to her womanhood and began his work. Mary could not hold her tongue as hard as she tried and images of George doing the exact same thing with another woman raced through her mind.

"George what was it like with two women?" Seeing no way around it, with no way to aid her in alleviating her despair, and feeling now honesty was the best policy no matter what her father said, he pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. Giving Mary his full attention, he began...