Chapter Three

"Why must women always be so...floral about everything?" Patrick asked, picking up a daisy and twirling it between his fingers.

"Darling, this is our wedding, you know?" Cecily replied with a chuckle. Patrick smiled and swept the young thing into his arms, kissing her full and deep. He trailed the daisy over her cheek and shook his head.

"Why don't we run away."

"Away? From what?" Cecily asked, confused. Patrick sighed and shook his head.

"This," he tossed the daisy into the burning fire. "This wedding, my family. Your family."

"Why would you ever want that? Don't you want us to be married?"

"Of course I do! But not here. Not with all these bothersome people." Patrick admitted, sitting in an oversized armchair near the warmth of the fire.

"Patrick..." Cecily sighed, leaning against the table that held the vase of daisies. "You know we can't."

"I know. I just don't know why." he sighed again, pressing his cheek to the tops of his folded hands.

"Miss Adams?" a voice called from the entrance of the library. Cecily looked up to see a young maid servant standing there, rather uneasily.

"Yes, Maggie?" Cecily asked, standing. Maggie swallowed and motioned toward the atrium.

"There's a man here to see you. He said his name was William Harding." she said softly, as if she were afraid that Patrick might overhear. Cecily turned sharply to stare at Maggie.

"You lie." she said curtly. Maggie blanched and shook her head madly.

"Please, m'lady. He's in the atrium, waiting." Maggie said softly. Cecily took a calming deep breathe and made her way slowly toward the foyer.

"Cecily? Darling?" Patrick asked, quickly striding toward her. Cecily held up her hand, silencing her fiance. "What is it? You've gone pale." he whispered, reaching for her hand.

"Please, Patrick, I really must see to this matter alone." she said softly, a slight quiver rising in her throat.

Swiftly, she made her way to the atrium, smoothing her dress and wondering what exactly it was she was going to say. You're supposed to be dead. They said that you died!

As she crossed the threshold into the expanse of the marble atrium, she noticed him standing and starring at a cherub statue near the door to the library.

"William?" she breathed, hoping to God that when he turned around it would be some horrible mistake. But it wasn't. It was, indeed, William. The awkward glance, the lopsided smile. It was indeed William through and through.

"Cecily." he said with a smile. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

She gave a light chuckle.

"No, no. I only heard..." she stopped, pressing a hand to her forehead. She had no idea what to say. William was...incompitant, embarassing and awkward. She was so sure that the reports had been true. You were dead and buried and now you're back. Four days before my wedding.

"Cecily?" he asked, walking forward and laying a hand over hers. To her surprise, it was quite cool. "Are you alright?"

"I thought you were dead." she snapped, stepping away quickly. William's face deepened and he shook his head in awe.

"Dead? No, of course not. Who's been-"

"That's all they spoke of. Your death. Some animal..." she said, turning her back toward him. At the word 'animal' she could have sworn she heard him growl. But, she dismissed it on account of her shock and simply sighed.

"I came to-"

"Please go. I told you once before I've no interest in an aquatence with you, Mr. Harding." she whispered, tears begging to flow down her cheeks. She looked up at William through the haze of her tears and saw that his face was no longer that of an awkward boy. Somehow, he looked aged and cold all of a sudden. His eyes narrowed with hatred and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

He glanced toward the room were Patrick waited patiently. He smiled quickly and snapped his attention back to Cecily. With a curt nod he turned and strode toward the door. But, before Maggie could open it for him, he turned back to face her.

"Oh, and Cecily? I should hope that, for your sake, the rumors about me are, indeed, false." he said, menacing grin crawling across his features.

Cecily cocked her head slightly in fright and watched as the insecure little boy she once knew padded softly down the marble steps and out the front door.

"Good Lord..." she whispered.