Part XII: My Heart Will Go On

"...Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And you're here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on

Love can touch us one time
And last for a lifetime
And never let go 'til we're gone

Love was when I loved you
One true time I hold to
In my life we'll always go on..."

~ "My Heart Will Go On" - Celine Dion

Wednesday

May 28, 1923

"You let her into your house and took her clothing off," Gatsby said as he paced the small length of Nick's kitchen. "Are you insane? What would have happened if someone saw you? What if it hadn't been me that came in through your front door? The last thing the Harper Family needs is another scandal, Carraway!"

"Jay—" Nick tried but Gatsby ignored him.

"The moment she showed up on your doorstep, you should have put your coat on, grabbed a goddamned umbrella, and walked her over to my house! I'm her brother-in-law and she would have been more than welcome in my home. More importantly, she would have had protection under my roof if something did happen!"

"Jay—"

"Don't even get me started on how irresponsible it was for her to leave East Egg and walk all the way here! She's an heiress with an inheritance that men only dream about! Someone could have kidnapped her and held her for ransom or she could have been hit by a car and killed in the dark! What would her family think? You think that Rebecca would be able to endure the heartbreaking loss of a sister? She's barely able to function now!"

"Jay—"

"I don't know what either of you two were thinking, but when Katherine Harper hears about her daughter escaping in the night to come see you, she's gonna hit the roof and Rebecca will hit the roof after her. I like my head attached to my body! I don't like getting yelled at for other people's mistakes as well! And I certain don't like getting yelled at by my wife and my mother-in-law at the same time!"

"Jay!" Nick called finally getting Gatsby's attention. The older man swung around and stared with hard eyes, waiting for an explanation. Taking a deep breath, Nick squared his shoulders and looked his friend in the eye knowing that an explosion was bound to happen.

"Elizabeth is with child," Nick said trying to remain calm. "She came here to tell me that she's with child and I plan on marrying her."

The color drained from Gatsby face as he grabbed the counter in support.

"C-c-child?" he mumbled, "My sister-in-law is with child?"

"Yes, I'm going to marry her."

Nick watched Gatsby shake his head and mumble things to himself. He wasn't sure what Gatsby was saying, but Nick was pretty sure that the man was praying about not being murdered by Katherine and Rebecca.

"Do either you or her, know who the father is?" Gatsby asked after a few minutes as he looked up at the ceiling. He looked like a man a decade older than his thirty-three years.

"I am the father," Nick told him, mentally preparing himself for the punches that Gatsby was likely to thrown. If Gatsby's reaction to Matthew Spring was anything to go off of, Nick would consider himself lucky if Gatsby didn't pull a gun on him. The punches never came as Gatsby swung around and started pacing again. Nick watched him walk around for nearly a minute before Gatsby stopped and looked at him with even harder eyes then before.

"You got my sister with child?" he hissed. "Are you an idiot?"

"It wasn't like it was planned," Nick said quietly looking around Gatsby's form to see that Elizabeth was still asleep on the couch where he'd left her.

"It didn't have to be planned! The point is that you were having sex with my virgin sister!"

"You're one to judge other people! What about you and your wife? You and Rebecca have been having sex with different people for the past two years."

"Both my wife and Daisy have the protection of marriage and don't you dare bring them into this. They have nothing to do with the fact that you got my unwed sister with child. What do you think Rebecca and Katherine are going to say? What is Edward Harper going to say?"

"What did they say about your affair?" Nick asked bitterly.

"Nothing! Nick, in our world the married men are expected to have affairs!" Gatsby shot back angrily. "Don't think for a moment that I'm proud of how I've turned my marriage into a train wreck, but you're going to have to recognize that everything changes now. You're not in the Midwest anymore! Katherine and Edward Harper have no sons and Elizabeth is their youngest daughter. You'll be expected to live with them in East Egg because I can guarantee you that Edward Harper would rather slit his wrists than let his daughter live in a grounds keeper's old cottage. You'll become the sole heir to the estate. Don't think for one moment that you'll be able to fool Katherine Harper into believing that her daughter wasn't pregnant before the marriage. Bleeding fucking Christ! What a goddamned mess!"

Gatsby ran his fingers through his hair as he continued pacing around the small kitchen. Nick watched him again for few minutes before Gatsby stopped again and closed his eyes. Gripping the counter tightly, Gatsby sighed.

"We'll need to convince Rebecca not to explode. With our vote of confidence in you…the Harper Family won't be able to complain. They trust my judgment enough that—"

"They trust your judgment?"

"Yes!" Gatsby nearly shouted as he snapped. "Who do you think has helped Edward Harper invest his capital and rebuild his fortune legally? Do you think all I do is illegal activities, Nick? I can invest and make money legally too! Buying and trading stocks is just one of many ways to make money. It's a quick way, but it's also risky. Stocks change every day and I don't trust them. There are always other alternatives to making money. Trust me when I say that the alcohol ban will be lifted and when that happens, I will have a monopoly on the market and the money that I make now will quadruple. I may not have a college education like you do, but I have educated myself about the markets and how money works. I know what I'm doing and that's why Edward Harper trusts my judgment, old sport. Believe me when I say that you will need Rebecca's confidence and her faith to sell this coming marriage to Edward Harper. Rebecca is close to him and he trusts her without question. Edward will question you if he sees Rebecca doesn't like you or trust you. That's why I said you don't want Rebecca to explode. She's the key in all this."

"So…you'll tell her?" Nick asked with hope in his eyes.

"No! Are you insane?" Gatsby told him with a shake of his head. "She's angry enough with me as it is. You and Elizabeth are going to tell her yourselves. With any luck she won't blame me for it."

"Why would she blame you? Elizabeth and I are the ones who—"

"Because that's how marriage works, old sport. You'll get blamed for things that you have no control over," Gatsby sighed. "Now, let's wake Elizabeth up and bring her back to my house. She can stay there for the night. We'll talk to Rebecca in the morning, old sport."

Moving towards the door, Nick watched Gatsby smooth back his hair.

"Jay?" he called and Gatsby stopped. "Why did you come over here in the first place?"

Gatsby slowly turned around and looked at Nick. The expression on his face was unreadable and a nervous feeling formed in the pit of Nick's stomach.

"I came to see if you knew where Rebecca is at. Clearly, she's not here," Gatsby said quietly while he avoided looking around.

"She's not at Gatsby Manor?" Nick questioned.

"She's been missing since after dinner. I went to go speak with her about hosting a party, but she wasn't in her room. I thought she might have come here."

Nick wasn't sure what he could possibly say that would help Gatsby. He knew that Matthew Spring would be leaving soon for England and the likelihood of the Earl ever returning was slim. With that in mind, the odds were extremely high that Rebecca was probably with the Earl. From the expression on Gatsby's face, Nick guessed that the older man had come to the same conclusion.

"Get Elizabeth," Gatsby said quietly. "We'll put her in a guest room at my house and I'll phone her parents. They're probably worried and thinking she's been kidnapped or worse."

Gatsby left without another word and Nick couldn't help but to pity the man. Gatsby had finally figured out what for so long he'd been blind to, only to learn that his wife was seeking comfort in another man's arms and bed. Nick wasn't sure what that could possibly feel like, but having seen both Rebecca and Gatsby go through it with each other…Nick was sure it was devastating. Turning and walking back towards the living room, he busied himself with the task at hand while hoping Rebecca wouldn't kill them all tomorrow.


Thursday

May 29, 1923

It was a little after two o'clock in the morning when Gatsby opened the doors to Rebecca's rooms. He and Nick had successfully settled Elizabeth into a guest bedroom down the hallway and Gatsby had summoned a doctor. Besides having a simple chill, Elizabeth and the babe were as healthy as they possibly could be. Gatsby knew it was a horrible thought, but he'd wished that the doctor had told them that Elizabeth was feverish and miscarrying.

If Elizabeth lost the child and was sick, everything would be so much easier. The problem would go away and another scandal would be avoided entirely. Nick had already announced his intent to marry Elizabeth which helped them, but a hasty marriage between two people who had never been seen together at a party would cause rumors and many raised eyebrows. A baby born even earlier than nine months would also set tongues wagging and Gatsby couldn't help but have another ungenerous hope that Elizabeth have a difficult pregnancy so that they could use it as an excuse as to why her child was born so early.

Walking into the sitting room, Gatsby looked around the large area and easily spotted Rebecca's writing desk against the wall opposite the large windows. The English Victorian desk was a light wood with two drawers on each side and a drawer in the middle. Setting the oil lamp he'd been carrying down, Gatsby quietly looked at the clean surface of the desk. A few trinkets were on the surface including a picture of Elizabeth and one of Mary. A pen case contained two fountain pens and black ink. A small flower vase sat in the right corner with a bundle of lilies. Opening the top two drawers, Gatsby quickly search the drawers, but found nothing. There were no clues as to where Rebecca was and if she was coming back.

An uncomfortable feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as Gatsby opened the third drawer.

He didn't know what he'd find, but he was petrified of Rebecca leaving him. He didn't want her to leave him for the Earl. He didn't want her to be a whole world away where he couldn't touch her. The very thought of it made him anxious and all the more determined to find her. The only thing he could find in the third drawer was book of childhood fables and stories that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. The inside of the drawer was dusty and Gatsby didn't bother opening the cover of the book. Moving to the fourth drawer, Gatsby heard the door knob turn. He held his breath as the door slowly opened and he tried to think of an excuse as to why he was snooping in his wife's writing desk in the dead of night. When Nick's face appeared round the corner of the door, Gatsby let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and leaned back against the desk.

"It's late, old sport," he said quietly. "Can I help you?"

"I saw the light was on and I thought you were Rebecca," Nick replied as he watched him closely. "I was coming to ask if she could sleep with Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth has a maid with her," Gatsby sighed as he turned back towards the desk and reached for the fourth drawer. "She'll be fine on her own for the night. Besides, Rebecca hasn't returned."

"Is that why you're going through her writing desk?"

Gatsby paused as he held the brass knob of the drawer. He was the master of his own home and didn't answer to anyone least of his future brother-in-law.

"I'm looking for something," Gatsby finally said vaguely. "It doesn't concern you."

Nick was silent as he looked through the drawer. Just as he was about to give up on the contents of the drawer, Gatsby found a small box buried at the bottom beneath a poetry book. Taking the box out, he held it under the light and opened the rosewood top. A stack of letters was stashed inside the small box along with a pressed flower. Setting the box down on the desk, Gatsby took out the stack of letters and undid the velvet ribbon that held the letters together. The top letter fluttered out and in the light, Gatsby could clearly read the message in elegant script.

May 28, 1923

Darling,

Everything is set for tonight.

My car will pick you near Mr. Carraway's front door. I promise to have you back before anyone knows you're missing. Please, send a reply to this note letting me know what time to send the car. I've already made reservations at the Warwick Hotel for my last night in the city. I know how desperately you want to come back to England with me…

Gatsby didn't read anymore.

The letter continued and turned into a sweet, simpering love letter that made him sick to his stomach. The note was signed 'M' but Gatsby knew exactly who had written the letters.

"When is the Earl leaving again?" Jay asked Nick quietly.

"The first of June," Nick said quietly. "Why?"

Gatsby said nothing as he put the letters and the box back the way he'd found them. His stomach was churning all the while because he's suspicions were right. Rebecca was with the Earl and she wouldn't be back until she was ready to come back.

"Jay?" Nick asked quietly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, old sport," Gatsby said. "I'll make sure Elizabeth has a maid with her before I retire. Goodnight."

Walking past Nick, Gatsby let out a shaky breath as he stepped into the hall. He couldn't deny the truth any longer. He'd convinced himself that Rebecca wasn't with the Earl at that moment, but the evidence was overwhelming. Passing his own room, Gatsby went straight to the library to work. Sleep wouldn't come to him, he was sure. Work would stop his mind from conjuring up images of Rebecca and the Earl together and sedate him for only a little while. In the morning, they'd deal with the mess Elizabeth and Nick had created. Until then, Gatsby needed to engage his mind and distract himself with something and wait for daylight as the torturous job of pretending he didn't know where she'd been began.


She'd only had a few hours of sleep the night before but that didn't stop Rebecca from showing up at breakfast. The breakfast table had been set out in the breakfast room with two extra chairs and she raised an eyebrow when she walked in.

"Are we expecting people to come for breakfast?" she asked after she settled herself into her seat with a plate of food. She looked expectantly at Gatsby, who barely lowered his newspaper to look at her.

"Our guests will be here any moment," he said just as the door opened. A tired looking Nick walked in followed by a red eyed Elizabeth. Staring at them, Rebecca couldn't help but to put her silverware down. Her appetite was gone as she looked from the two people standing to Gatsby, who had tossed aside his ironed paper. She stared at him hard waiting for answers, but none came forth right away. Instead, Gatsby uncrossed his legs and stood up. Telling the two maids present to keep the breakfast warm, he suggest that they all relocate to the music room for a private conversation.

Within minutes, Rebecca found herself being ushered into the quiet music room as a nervous looking Elizabeth sat down on one of the many couches. An equally nervous looking Nick sat down on the far end of the couch that Elizabeth sat on while he stared at Gatsby for some unknown reason. Walking towards the open windows, Rebecca watched Gatsby stand with his hands clasped behind his back. Something caught the man's attention below as he stared quietly. Rebecca quickly walked towards a chair and held on to the back of the chair as she stood waiting. When no one spoke right away she cleared her throat and looked at Gatsby.

"And what is so important that we cannot sit and eat out breakfast, Mr. Gatsby?" she asked with an arched brow. "Would someone care to explain to me why we're here in the music room instead of downstairs in the breakfast room?"

Gatsby turned slightly and looked at her, "Prying eyes and ears have a way of always making themselves present in the breakfast room. I'm sure that you don't want our family business splashed all over the cover of the papers."

"Family business? What family business are you talking about?"

Before Gatsby could reply, a near hysterical Elizabeth stood up and burst into tears. Nick quickly moved to comfort her, but Elizabeth stopped him as she walked towards Rebecca.

"It's my entire fault," Elizabeth said as she stood up in front of her. "Please, don't blame anyone but me."

"Don't blame you for what?" Rebecca snapped as she looked around the music room. "Would someone explain what on earth is going on?"

Gatsby shifted from his spot by the window and turned around to look at them all. Rebecca let her gaze take in the tall man by the window in a handsome navy blue pinstriped suit and tie. Gatsby cleared his throat as he walked over towards them and rested one of his hands on the back of the couch where Nick had been seated with Elizabeth.

"Nick and Elizabeth will need our help," he said calmly in a steady voice. "Elizabeth is with child and Nick is the father. They plan to marry as soon as possible, thank God. They'll need our support in order to get the support of your parents and society. I'm sure that's the kind of family business you don't want splashed across the papers, Mrs. Gatsby."

Rebecca's legs felt weak as she sank down into the closest chair. Looking at both Elizabeth and Nick with wide eyes, she tried to comprehend what Gatsby had said, but she was sure that she'd misheard him.

"Is it true?" she whispered as she stared at Elizabeth. "Is it true?"

Elizabeth was kneeling before Rebecca tearfully in an instant. Rebecca let her younger sister grasp her hands tightly, but she didn't squeeze back. She couldn't believe she'd heard her husband's words correctly, but the look in his eyes and Elizabeth's told her that Gatsby hadn't lied. He was telling the truth and shock was racing through her veins. Mary's scandal barely compared to the shock of hearing that a similar situation was repeating itself all over again in the family. Hearing her sister's voice, Rebecca looked at the red, tear filled eyes of her youngest sister.

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeth pleaded. "It wasn't meant to happen, but it did and I'm sorry. Please, don't hate me! Don't let Mother and Father send me away like they did with Mary. I don't want to leave you or anyone."

Yanking her hands away from Elizabeth, Rebecca stared at her sister for a moment before standing. Grasping the side of the piano, Rebecca could barely believe what was happening or what she was hearing. First, Mary. Now, Elizabeth. Both were in similar situations involving a child and being unwed. Closing her eyes and squeezing the piano tightly, Rebecca resisted the urge to lash out at Nick and Elizabeth for their stupidity. How they could be so careless was beyond her, but they had.

Now, there was life altering consequences to deal with. With Nick planning to marry Elizabeth, the chances of her youngest sister suffering a fate similar to Mary was slim, but Edward and Katherine Harper would be furious that Elizabeth was marrying a young man from the Midwest with hardly any money to his name. She understood what Gatsby meant by 'supporting' Nick and Elizabeth. Knowing her mother and father, Nick would need all the help in convincing Edward and Katherine Harper that he hadn't married their youngest daughter for her money. Turning back around and facing the room, Rebecca stared at her youngest sister for a moment before turning to look at Gatsby.

"I will agree to whatever scheme you're creating, but know that you won't be able to convince my mother that her first grandchild was born early. She'll figure everything out well before the wedding. With any luck, she'll see reason and keep her mouth shut," Rebecca sighed as she rubbed her forehead. "Obviously, they will have to marry as so as it can be arranged and the sooner the better. I will leave the sorting of the marriage license and those kinds of details to you."

"Agreed," Gatsby replied as he slipped his hands into his dress pants pocket. "I already told Nick that your mother is impossible to lie to."

"Except for you," she scoffed. "You can lie to her about anything and sweet talk her into getting whatever you want."

The room fell silent as Elizabeth returned to her seat next to Nick and held his hand tightly. Just looking at the pair of them, Rebecca could smell their fear and anxiety. While Elizabeth had a blank expression on her face, Nick looked down right nervous as if he was waiting for his own execution.

"Do relax," Rebecca told him as she walked towards the decanter of whiskey and grabbed a tumbler from the tray. "No one is going to kill you. At least you're marrying my sister. That's the only thing that is keeping you alive right now, so calm down. As long as you don't do any trouble making, Tom Buchanan's fate won't be shared with you."

"A little early don't you think, sweetheart, to be drinking?" Gatsby commented as she poured herself a generous amount of amber liquid. Placing the decanter back down on the silver tray it had been sitting on and putting the crystal back in the neck; Rebecca looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If you don't want me drinking so early don't spring things like this on me before noon, darling," she replied with an arched brow. "I will be in my rooms if you need me. I'll contact my mother in the afternoon and see if we can't arrange a little family dinner or something before we spring this mess on them. God only knows if my father's heart will take the news that yet another one of his daughters can't seem to keep her legs closed long enough to get married."

Not bothering to acknowledge that her words had caused an overly emotional Elizabeth to cry, Rebecca walked towards the door leaving Gatsby alone with a tearful pregnant woman and a nervous father to-be. Closing the door behind her and drinking the entire contents of the tumbler, Rebecca closed her eyes at the burn of the alcohol going down her throat. It felt good and she could already feel the effects of the alcohol by the time she reached her room. Not bothering to call for Tilly, Rebecca collapsed on top of her bed and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Oh, Elizabeth. You stupid, foolish girl," she murmured to herself. "You had better pray no one saw you or knows about the pregnancy and writes about it in the papers before you're married."


Friday

May 30, 1923

Gatsby took a deep breath and squared his shoulders after he stepped out of his car. A servant held the door to his yellow car and he handed the young lad the keys. Walking towards the opened doors and the butler that stood on the first step, Gatsby slowly made his way to the older man that resembled Crawley.

"Mr. Murdock at your service, sir," the butler nodded. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm here to see the Earl," Gatsby said taking out his card. "Please tell him that Mr. Gatsby is here to see him on important business."

The butler nodded and promised to return quickly. Left alone in the foyer, Gatsby looked around the grand entrance hall. The floor was black and white patterned marble and the dark wood panels surrounded the area. A large, circular table was in the center of the foyer with a large vase of lilies in the center. It wasn't the table that had caught his attention, but the gloves that rested on top. Walking closer, Gatsby recognized the cream colored lace gloves instantly. He'd seen them earlier in the morning on Rebecca's hands before she'd departed the manor. The pearl buttons on the wrist were undone and a small pearl embroidered clutch was next to the gloves.

"Mr. Gatsby, sir."

Looking up, Gatsby stared at the butler who wore a similar look of indifference that Crawley always seemed to wear.

"Lord Kettlemore will see you in the library," Mr. Murdoch said. "If you would please follow me, sir."

Following the butler, Gatsby was shown into the library. He barely noticed his surroundings as he looked at the man who had been sleeping with his wife. It took all his self-control not to snap and assault the man who stood before him in a feather grey suit with a matching vest and silvery blue tie.

"Mr. Gatsby, a pleasure to see you again," the Earl smiled as they shook hands.

"As it you Lord Kettlemore," Gatsby replied back with a tight smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all, I was just working on some business. Please, join me for some refreshments. Can I offer you a cup of tea?" Matthew asked as his butler waited for a command.

"Let us forget the niceties," Gatsby said as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back to prevent him from throttling the Earl. "You know who I am and I know who you are."

It only took a moment for Matthew to realize what Gatsby had meant. Dismissing his butler, the Earl tucked his hands into his pockets. The tension pulsated around the room as both men stood unsure of what to say next.

"I figured you come, eventually," Matthew finally said sighed as he leaned back against his desk. "Rebecca told me that you knew. She told me that you'd seen us at—"

"I don't need to relive the memory of seeing you with your hand between my wife's legs," Gatsby snapped as he turned from his position at the window. "Seeing it once was nauseating enough."

Falling back into silence, Gatsby watched as Matthew crossed to a pair of twin wing-back chairs. A small circular table sat between the chairs and on the surface of the table was decanter and three small tumblers.

"Can I interest you in some port, Mr. Gatsby?"

"No, thank you."

Matthew didn't say anything else as he quickly poured himself a small portion of port from the tumbler. Moving away from the window, Gatsby helped himself to the seat next to Matthew who also sat down with his tumbler full of port. Their body's mirrored each other as they both sat back with their legs crossed. Gatsby could almost imagine that if someone didn't know what was happening between them, the person would imagine that they were friends having a drink together in the library.

"Mr. Carraway tells me that you plan on returning to England soon," Gatsby said after the Earl took his first sip of the alcohol.

"The first of June," Matthew amended. "I leave on the RMS Beatrice at one o'clock in the afternoon."

"Your last night in New York. I'm sure you're sad that it's coming to an end."

Matthew set his tumbler down on the table next to him and shook his head, "You told me that you wanted to dispense with the niceties. You didn't come here to make small talk with me, Mr. Gatsby. Something is obviously on your mind. Why don't you just tell me instead of making small talk?"

Standing, Gatsby walked towards the window. Looking out at the vast, sprawling gardens of the estate, the urge to hit Matthew Spring overwhelmed him again. Clenching his fists, Gatsby took a deep breath before he turned back around to stare at the Earl.

"I had the most interesting night last night, do you know that?" he started. "You see, I went to find my wife to speak with her about a household matter and I couldn't find her. Tilly was the only one who'd seen her earlier in the evening and according to the maid, Rebecca had left the estate. It wasn't hard to figure out that she'd been with you. I found a stack of letters in her writing desk and they were all from you. The most recent letter was on top. You're staying at the Warwick Hotel tomorrow night with Rebecca. Don't deny it. I've already checked and you have reservations there for most expensive suite they have."

Matthew sighed and rubbed his forehead, "I can't and won't deny that yes, I do have a reservation at the hotel."

"And Rebecca? Do you plan on meeting her there or can I at least expect my wife home for dinner tomorrow? I saw her gloves on the table downstairs. She's here in the house, isn't she?"

"I won't deny that she intends to meet me at the Warwick Hotel," Matthew told Gatsby quietly. "As for her location? I don't know where she is at this moment. For all I know, she's listening at the door."

"Are you going to take her back to England?" Gatsby asked bluntly. "I saw in your letter you spoke about her going England with you. Is that why you're meeting her at the hotel? Throw my men off from following her?"

"You have no idea how tempting the idea is to take her back to England with me. To take her away from the pain and hurt you've caused. I want nothing more in the world and I know she'll ask me to reconsider again tonight," Matthew snorted. "I'm almost tempted to take her with me and let everything else be damned to hell. If that bloody Mary Harper hadn't met Tom Buchanan, you and I wouldn't even be having this conversation. I would have married her a long time ago and you would just simply be another name that was talked about in passing conversation between her and me."

Gatsby pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before he turned and looked out the windows of the Earl's elaborate estate. He knew he'd caused Rebecca pain. Years of pain and agony that couldn't be undone. The Earl's words were tempting because of the simple fact that Gatsby knew that Matthew Spring could probably make Rebecca happier than he ever could. Just hearing the man talk about what kind of future Rebecca would have had with the Earl made him feel a jealousy unlike anything he'd ever felt rear up inside his body.

"You have no idea how much I wish you could do that for her," Gatsby finally said as he turned back to look at the Earl. "But I am a selfish man. I won't let you take her across the sea. Not when I know that I have the chance to win her back and make her happy too."

"Did you ever have a chance with her?"

"She married me."

"To save her family!" Matthew shouted as he stood up. "She married you to repair the damage that Mary Harper did to the family!"

"You weren't there when she married me," Gatsby yelled back as he held onto the window frame. "I could see it in her eyes. She loved me and being the selfish bastard that I am, I turned her away because I believed myself to be in love with another woman."

"And are you in love with this other woman? This…Daisy Buchanan?" Matthew demanded. "Can you honestly say that you have real, genuine feelings for Rebecca?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't have genuine feelings for Rebecca. The only reason I haven't ploughed my fist into your face is because I know Rebecca, God only knows why, cares for you and I won't hurt something she cares about. The only reason I'm here in this room is because of desperation. Don't let her get onto that boat with you no matter how much she begs you," Gatsby said quietly as his voice broke. "I would not be here swallowing my pride and speaking to the man who sleeping with my wife if I wasn't desperate. Please, don't let her get on that boat and don't take her to bed tomorrow night. I am begging you."

Walking to the door, Gatsby walked out and left Matthew Spring standing silently alone in the large library. Walking down the hallways and steps towards the front door, Gatsby couldn't help but say a silent prayer that Matthew Spring showed some mercy to him. He prayed silently that Matthew wouldn't take Rebecca a world away to England. Gatsby prayed Matthew didn't take Rebecca to a place that made her unreachable because she was just within his grasps and he wasn't going to let her go when he had her.

Of that, Gatsby was absolutely certain.


Saturday

May 31, 1923

Matthew Spring was an honest man in his heart.

He liked to believe that he always did the right thing and tried to be a good person, but his meeting with Gatsby had made him unsure. Pacing the sitting room of the suite he'd rented for the night, Matthew wondered again at Gatsby's word. The man had practically begged him not to take Rebecca with him if that's what his plans were. Gatsby didn't care that his wife had spent months in another man's bed; Jay Gatsby just didn't want his wife to leave him.

Running a hand through his hair, Matthew knew that it took more than a little swallowing of pride to get a man like Jay Gatsby to visit the man that was sleeping with his wife. It took more than a little swallowing of pride to go on and ask that man not to take one's wife away or sleep with her anymore. Matthew had known the moment Murdoch had said that Jay Gatsby was calling on him that Gatsby cared for Rebecca.

Gatsby wouldn't have shown up on his doorstep if he didn't care.

It was almost ironic that Rebecca and Gatsby kept flip flopping on each other. One moment she wanted him and he didn't want her and then they would flip positions. It was aggravating, but Matthew knew that both Jay and Rebecca had feelings for one another. Walking to the bar and pouring himself a brandy, Matthew situated himself in a chair. Fishing the dark blue velvet box out of his breast pocket, he stared at the case for a moment before he flipped it open.

A large, square aquamarine stone surrounded by glittering diamonds reflected in the light as he stared at the necklace before him. The necklace had been in his family for over five hundred years and when he'd been in England after the war, Matthew had found the necklace sitting in the back of the family vault. The gem had instantly reminded him of Rebecca's eyes. He'd had the necklace redesigned and remade by the most expensive jewelers in London in the hopes of gifting the necklace to Rebecca as an engagement present. If his plan had worked out like he had hoped, Matthew was sure that both he and Rebecca would have been in England and the necklace would be forever fixed around her neck as a symbol of his love. The longer he stared at the necklace, the more Matthew could see the sad reality that his life had become.

"She was never mine to begin with," he whispered to himself as he took another sip of his brandy.

It was a truth he'd long since ignored, but he finally embraced it. Rebecca had never been his to love. Taking her to his bed had been wrong. Even if he loved her, he shouldn't have given into her impulsive needs. Being together had only served to confused her more as she had tried to sort through her feelings. Instead of loving her like he had, Matthew knew he should have simply been a friend to turn to. He should have been the friend who offered her a sanctuary in his gardens and a shoulder to cry on, nothing more.

Looking back over the past months, Matthew could see that he'd taken advantage of a confused woman at her most vulnerable time. Rebecca had been desperate for love and affection and he'd used that desperation as fuel for his own love. She'd once told him that she was afraid of using him as a means to an end, but Matthew could clearly see the truth. They'd used each other in different ways. His motives weren't pure like she thought and he wasn't pure in character either.

He and Gatsby were the same.

Carrying on an affair with a married woman when they both knew it was wrong. Matthew had seen the remorse in Gatsby's eyes when he'd brought Daisy up and he knew that the man regretted his choices. Shaking his head, Matthew stood up and tried to search for the right answer. He wanted nothing more than to take Rebecca into his bed one last time before he left. He knew that he wouldn't be returning to New York again during his lifetime. His mother and grandmothers were demanding he take a wife and sire children. Now that he could, the dreams of a family didn't seem so far off and untouchable.

It would hurt unbearably to know that he wouldn't be in bed with the woman he wanted to be with and the woman he wanted more than anything wouldn't bare his children, but he had one last chance to be with her. He had once last chance to love Rebecca with his whole mind, body and soul. Even though Gatsby had asked him not to take Rebecca into his bed, Matthew knew that despite everything he was too selfish not to.

He wanted one last night with the woman he'd loved since childhood. One last night of pleasure was all he wanted with the woman who had given him the strength to go off and fight a war. One last night and in the morning, he'd resign himself to a lifetime of memories filled with regrets and wishes that would never come true.

"I am sorry Gatsby," Matthew whispered again. "I can't do what you ask. I am not strong enough."

A knock at the door came and he stood up. The door opened and moments later, Rebecca entered the room with a smile. She was dressed in a pretty pink dress with cream embellishments and pearls were wrapped around her delicate neck.

"Am I late?" she asked him.

"Not at all," Matthew said as she walked towards him. Any thoughts of Gatsby were pushed from his mind as he watched her. What Gatsby had asked was too much. Matthew simply couldn't do it, but he could give Rebecca permission to move on. That was all she needed and it was all he could give her in the end.


Sunday

June 1, 1923

Rebecca stared up at the large ship that would carry Matthew across the sea and back home to England. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't cry, but just staring at the ship made her promise slip away from her a little more. The moment had come to let him go and she found it far harder than she ever thought possible.

Brighton opened the back door of her car and Matthew slipped out first. The soft wind blew at his dress coat and pants as he slipped on his Derby hat. A moment later, Matthew turned around and offered her his gloved hand. Taking it, Rebecca stepped out of the car into the bright sunlight. Dread filled her body as she looked around her. Workers and passengers alike stood side by side as supplies and luggage was loaded aboard the RMS Beatrice which would take her passengers across the sea to Southampton. Matthew would set foot on English soil again with all the pomp and circumstance due to a man of his noble position. He would return to his sphere as member of the House of Lords and a war hero of the Great War. His grand estate would get the attention it needed and his mother would be happy to have her son home.

"I'll track down someone to take care of your luggage, sir," Brighton said with a tip of his unformed hat as he and Matthew's driver departed to look for someone to help them.

Matthew thanked both men as they scurried off to find help. Turning back to her, he gave her a soft smile. It was smile that Rebecca could barely return as she stared back at him. Her heart was breaking again and she could feel it in her chest. Gatsby had once broken it and Matthew's leaving was breaking it again.

"And so this is goodbye," Matthew said softly to her and his words only made her heart break more. Barely able to look at him, Rebecca lowered her eyes to the ground.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered. "I don't want you to leave me all alone in this world. Don't go or take me with you but, please, don't leave me."

Matthew's hands softly cupped her cheeks as he forced her to look up at him. His own blue eyes glistened with tears as he brushed her tears away with his thumbs. Her heart ached in a way it never had before and she knew that the ache would only become worse with time.

"I need you to tell me to get onto the boat," he whispered back to her. "I can't leave without you telling me to."

"Don't make this harder for me Matthew, please, take me with you."

For a moment, Matthew's eyes flashed like he was truly considering it, but he shook his head.

"Don't beg me to do something you know I can't do," he told her softly.

"Why? Why can't you take me with you?" Rebecca begged.

"We have a responsibility to our families," Matthew whispered. "You can't come with as much as you wish it. You said yourself. All good things must come to an end and our…thing must end here on this dock whether we like it or not. You must let me go, my darling. It's the only way I can get on this ship and it's the only way you will be able to go on."

The tears she'd tried to keep in check so valiantly fell down her cheeks as she looked up at him. Any hopes that Matthew would take her with him and save her from a lifetime of misery with Gatsby were shattered. Her heart was tearing into two and a dull pain was beginning in her chest. Pain that would become her constant companion for the rest of her life.

"Go on without you? How can I?"

"You will," Matthew promised softly. "You will go on in life without me. You'll be the mother of several beautiful children and the world will speak of your beauty until the end of time. People will love you as they've always done and you and I will become nothing more than memories. Memories that will become treasures. They're worth will be far greater than any amount of money or gems that can be offered to me. When someone you love becomes a memory, my darling, that memory becomes a treasure. You are a treasure that I will hold on until my very last dying breath. You'll become the treasure that no one can rob me of and I will become the same to you. We are a treasure that time and space will divide, but that treasure will live on in my heart and memories. You must go on and forget me. "

Shock covered her face as she looked up at him with confusion, "Why are you saying this to me?"

"We were nothing but a dream, my darling. A wonderful, beautiful dream that is over as sleep slips away from us. Now, we must wake up and face the real world. You can't come with me and you will move on with life. That's how this was always meant to work for the both of us. Maybe we could have been together in another time or a different life, but we have gambled with fate long enough. It's time to let go and move on with reality by our sides."

"I love you," Rebecca said weakly. "Please, that must mean something to you."

"You love me, but not the way you love another," Matthew whispered back softly. "You love him and we both know that. You told me that once and I can't take you with me in good consciousness because you have a duty, a responsibility, and a love here in New York. The feelings you have for him can't be erased. You and I both know this. That's why I am asking you to forget me and move on with your life. Forget me, my darling. That's what I need you to do. I need you to forget and tell me to go and get on the ship."

His words shocked her and Rebecca wished fate was playing a cruel joke on her. His words hurt more than anything she could ever imagine as she searched his face for some sign that he had lied, but Matthew's serious expression never wavered. He was serious and he wanted her to forget him. Rebecca knew what he wanted her to do, but she was sure that forgetting Matthew was impossible. Forgetting everything that had passed between them wasn't possible. Those memories would be the only thing she had with her now and she would cling to them like they were her favorite childhood bear or a security blanket.

"Tell me to go," Matthew said again. "The ship will be leaving soon and I need you to tell me to go."

Looking up into his blue eyes, Rebecca took a shaky breath. Her lips felt frozen and speaking felt like it was impossible. She wanted to scream at him that she couldn't say the words he wanted her to say. She couldn't do what he wanted her to do because she wasn't as strong as he thought she was. The only thing that stopped her was the look in Matthew's eyes. Matthew Spring didn't think she was weak. He needed her strength because just from the look in his eyes, Rebecca knew that he had a much harder task in front of him. He had to get on the ship and she barely knew how he would be able to move. Desperation reflected in his eyes as Matthew's hands cupped her neck. Rebecca wasn't sure how, but the words she needed to say came to her lips.

"Go," she whispered to him with tears running down her face. "Go and know that you'll always have a piece of my heart with you. Do not ask me to say goodbye to you because I refuse to believe this is goodbye."

Holding onto his wrists tightly, Rebecca let Matthew kiss her lips hard. She didn't care who saw them together. His lips were warm and firm against hers. The world slipped away from them and all Rebecca could feel was him. Her body and soul soared in a way she couldn't describe as a warmth unlike anything she'd ever felt spread through her. Their kiss only last for a moment, but it was a kiss that Rebecca was sure she would never forget for as long as she lived. Matthew pulled back slightly from her and for a moment his eyes met hers. His clear eyes were full of unspoken words and Rebecca knew they were words of regret. She could see how much pain he was in and she knew how much he wished he'd told her to wait for him. The sadder thought was that she would have waited for him if he had asked her. She would have said yes without a second thought.

Matthew hands slipped away from her and it took all the strength she had in herself to let him go. The warmth of his embrace left her feeling cold. Without another word, Matthew turned towards Brighton, who had returned with a dock worker and a few of the ships crewmen. Words were quickly exchanged between the men and within minutes the luggage that been in Matthew's car was unloaded. Workers worked quickly to take his things aboard the ship and within minutes, Matthew was following them.

Covering her mouth with her hand, Rebecca barely contained the sob that threatened to escape as she watched Matthew climb the stairs that was reserved for first class passengers only. He was one of many that would be on the first class deck with grand cabin and extensive service. The ship was set to leave dock soon and Rebecca couldn't help but watch. Matthew stopped at the top step of the stairs and looked over his shoulder at her one last time.

Never had fate felt so cruel as Matthew's eyes met hers and Rebecca realized it would be the last time she ever saw him. Desperately trying to commit every feature on his handsome face in her memory, Rebecca nearly cried out when he turned away and disappeared into the throngs of people on the deck. Strong arms caught her before she could collapse and see couldn't help but lean into Brighton as he held her up.

"I understand why she killed herself, Brighton," Rebecca whispered tearfully. "I know why my sister took her own life."

Within minutes, people waved and cheered goodbye to their loved ones as the ship moved away from the dock and towards the open sea. Flags were waved and many called out their last 'I love you'. Frantically searching the first class deck to catch one last glimpse of Matthew, she didn't see him again as the ship moved away from her. Standing on the dock for nearly an hour, Rebecca could barely move when the ship disappeared on the horizon. The crowds had already dissipated leaving a few sparse cars and people milling about, but her feet were rooted to the spot. The reality that Matthew had spoken of had hit her full force and the reality that he was gone triggered an ache inside her that she'd never known.

So engrossed in watching the horizon and the ship that had left, Rebecca didn't notice the three black cars pull up effectively blocking her and Brighton in. It was only when a familiar voice called to her that Rebecca felt the chills of reality return to her.

"And so the lady bids her fair love goodbye," Ares Patrick sneered. "How touching that the fair Mrs. Gatsby weeps at her lost lover."

Turning around and looking at the man who stood behind her, Rebecca could hear Gatsby's warning in her mind as Ares walked closer to her.

"I can't imagine that you care about my private affairs," she snapped at the man. "I'm curious to know why you're here talking to me at all. I can't imagine what we have in common or what we have to discuss."

Making a move to get away, Rebecca gasped in shock when Ares grabbed her upper arm tightly. Swinging her around to look at him, she watched as he brushed his coat aside. A gun was tucked inside his coat and the malicious look he wore on his face frightened her.

"Don't make a scene," Ares hissed. "We're going to walk to your car together and drive to the Plaza Hotel. We're going to walk up to my room there and you're not going to fight me or do anything to attract attention. Am I clear?"

Trying to yank back her arm, Rebecca scowled at Ares as he held on tighter to her arm. His touch wasn't like Matthew or Gatsby's. He wasn't gentle and she was sure that if he added anymore pressure, Ares would break her arm.

"And if I resist you and scream for help? Surely, you must know that I am Mrs. Gatsby. Everyone in New York knows who I am," Rebecca challenged. "What will you do then?"

One of Ares' henchmen stepped forward with a gun pressed to Brighton's head. Staring at the sight in front of her, Rebecca couldn't help but to feel faint as she watched her driver struggle with the man holding him.

"I will shoot that man if you resist me," Ares whispered in her ear as he pulled her close to his hard body, "I will cause you pain unlike anything you've ever experience. This is your only warning. Now, let's get going."

Yanking her arm again, Rebecca felt a pain in her shoulder as Ares hulled her towards her car. He all but shoved her into the backseat as Brighton was also forced into the car. Ares followed her into car and a henchman slammed the door shut behind him. Three men crammed into the front seat of the car with Brighton in the middle. The henchman who wasn't driving had a gun pressed to Brighton's side while he whispered threats to the younger man.

One of the black cars that had blocked them in moved. The driver followed the black car as the other two black cars followed them. Moving slowly over the docks, Rebecca couldn't help but to pray that Gatsby would come for her. He would know what to do in a situation like the one she was in. He would know exactly what to say and do to pacify Ares. As Rebecca prayed fervently, she knew the haunting truth.

Gatsby didn't know where she was at. He didn't know that she'd gone to see Matthew off after spending the night with him. No one but Brighton knew where she was and for the first time, Rebecca wished she'd told someone else where she'd gone. The cars weaved through the traffic and the dread that had been in her body before returned. She didn't know what they would find at the Plaza Hotel, but Rebecca was sure nothing good would come of going to Ares' room. Gatsby had mentioned that Ares had done unmentionable things. Things that she'd never be able to conjure up in her wildest dreams and nightmares. That was what Ares was capable of. Her heart nearly stopped as she wondered if Ares was taking her to her death.

Would he kill her?

Rebecca couldn't come up with any other reason why Ares would want her. She knew nothing about Gatsby's business and there was nothing she could do or say that would help Ares in anyway.

Was he going to kill her to make a point to Gatsby and Wolfsheim?

She didn't know what Ares had in store for her and it took all herself control to stop her hands from shaking as she cleared her throat.

"Are you going to kill me, Mr. Patrick?"

Ares turned towards her with a sinister smile, "There are things that are far worse than death, Mrs. Gatsby. I promise you that."

Rebecca barely had a chance to wonder at his words as they pulled up in front of Plaza hotel. A doorman from the hotel opened Ares' door and the man slipped out. One hard look from him frightened her as he offered her a hand. Rebecca knew that Ares wasn't faking when he'd told her that he'd kill Brighton. Slipping in tiny hand into his, Rebecca let him assist her out of the car. His grip was crushing as he held her hand in his tightly.

Walking through the doors, Rebecca barely looked at the people around her as they moved towards the elevators. Ares' henchmen followed behind them. Stepping into the elevator, Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to think of something she could do that would get both her and Brighton out of the mess they were in, but nothing came to mind. They were trapped and Ares was playing by his own rules and conditions. Rules and conditions that Rebecca had no knowledge of and Ares knew all her weaknesses. Brighton was shoved roughly onto the elevator with them as a few of Ares' henchmen followed. The elevator was cramped and the air was hot and heavy with tension. Meeting Brighton's eyes, Rebecca shook her head at the young man. She could see the overwhelming urge in his eyes to fight back but she knew if he did, Brighton would be killed without a second thought. It didn't matter to them if the elevator operator was present or not.

The elevator stopped at the sixteenth floor.

Quickly being forced out the elevator and into the hall, Ares' grip never loosened as he dragged her down the hall. A henchman opened the door towards the end of the hall and forced her inside the large suite. Past the entry room, a sitting room done in wood paneling was stylish and so was the rest of the furniture in the large room. The windows were open to fend off the heat that had seemed to show up overnight and a few electric fans blew air around causing the window hangings to catch every so often and blow around. The furniture looked comfortable and cozy with a matching color scheme of reds, blues, greens and dark woods. Parisian carpets covered the floor and a bar was on the opposite side of the room with alcohol stocked well on the surface. Brighton was forced to sit down in a chair near her. His hands were quickly bound and his feet tied to chair legs. A wad of fabric was forced into his mouth and a gun was pressed to his temple. A man threatened to shoot him if he didn't stop struggling and to Rebecca's relief, Brighton did as he was told. Ares hold on her never wavered as he forced her through the room.

Towards the left of the sitting room was a small room with wooden floors and a large circular table. A vase of roses stood on the lace table cloth. No other furniture was in the room except for a wing backed chair in each corner of the room. Beyond the small entry room, a bed room was visible with plush pillows and a richly embroidered golden cover. Tassels at each corner of the cover and an expensive painting above the bed, Rebecca could tell that the room was saved for those with money. It was the standard for wealthy people and those who could afford the room.

Ares forced her inside the small room with a hard shove.

He followed her inside and closed the double doors that had been opened. Richly carved, the dark doors matched the wood paneling and furniture around her. Had the situation not been so frightening, Rebecca was sure she'd had loved to explore each room and look at the fine details. Watching Ares lock the double doors, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest as Ares slipped the skeleton key into his vest pocket. His smile was sickening as he walked around the table to the bedroom. Rebecca wanted to follow him and demand he let her leave, but fear kept her in her place. Standing, she wasn't sure what would happen next but every survival instinct had been turned on. A few minutes passed and Ares returned with a devilish smile on his handsome face and what looked like photographs in his hand.

"I have a gift for you," he told her before tossing the pictures down on the table in front of her.

"What are these?" Rebecca asked not bothering to pick them up.

Another wicked smile crossed Ares face as he picked one up and slid it across the table towards her. The image on the other side of the photograph shocked her in a way nothing had ever done before. Denial swept through her veins as she stared at the black and white photo. It wasn't possible for the woman in the picture to be someone she knew but Rebecca would recognize her sister anywhere.

Naked as the day she was born, Mary stood smiling at the camera as one hand toyed with her nipple and the other hand cupped her womanhood. With a shaky hand, Rebecca grabbed another picture as horror bloomed in her chest. The second picture was no better than the first with Mary lying flat on her back with her legs opened. The third and fourth pictures were no better and Rebecca could feel her legs getting weaker beneath her. Even from the grave, Mary caused trouble. If the photographs were ever shown to a newspaper, Rebecca was sure that the ruin of their family would be the least of their problems. New York society would drive them out of city, if not the country, and they would lose everything they had gained and more.

Bringing a shaky hand to cover her lips, Rebecca barely contained the scream that threatened to escape her mouth as fury took over her. Mary, stupid selfish Mary, had once again landed them in a scandal and Rebecca wasn't sure how to get out the mess her stupid, younger sister had made this time. At least with Elizabeth, Nick Carraway was going to right his wrong and the world would never know that the child Elizabeth carried had been conceived before the marriage. It was the only small blessing that Rebecca could see at the moment as Ares Patrick prowled around the table watching her with keen eyes.

"I have spies everywhere, you see," he smiled. "Your sister is stupid and reckless, but Tom Buchanan? He's a brilliant man. You see, he knew that I knew Gatsby and Wolfsheim. He's not a stupid man and he knew that you were behind the poker game and the demise of his good name. I will take a moment to applaud you though. A brilliant plan and beautiful executed. If you were a man, I'd want you to work for me. However, you are not a man and in exchange for money, Tom Buchanan sold me the most damning photographs I've ever seen. Your beautiful sister, spread out like a whore for the whole world to see. I came to New York because I know your husband. He'd shell out as much money as he possibly could to prevent pictures like these from ever reaching the light of day. I saw it in his eyes the first night I met you. He cares about his pretty little wife. Cares about her enough that he'd turn a blind eye to her affair because he feels guilty about his own. Gatsby cares enough about you that he'd continue to pay off the newspaper people that your little lover was paying off to protect your good name. I think he'd first commit murder before he let anyone besmirch Rebecca Gatsby in the papers or in public for that matter. I came here looking for a large payment, but when I saw you…I knew exactly what I wanted."

"And what is that?" Rebecca said trying to keep her voice from cracking from the fear inside her heart. Ares continued to smile at her as he stalked around the table like a lion preparing to devour its prey. She felt his presence behind her back and the fear she'd been trying so hard to keep at bay slipped in. His hands touched her arms and nausea passed over her as his hands slipped down to hold her hips in a bruising grasp.

"I can prevent these pictures from ever seeing the light of day. I will give them to you to keep. They are the only copies," Ares hissed into her ear. "It will cost you dearly."

"How much money do you want?" Rebecca asked as she clenched her eyes shut. The feeling of his hands on her body was sickening. His hands that had tight grasped her hips pushed her forward into the table. Tears came to her eyes as pressed his body roughly against hers. His hand grasped a fist full of hair and forced her head back to look at him.

"It's not money I want, you filthy whore. I want one night with your body," Ares whispered as he pressed his lips and teeth into her neck. "That's what it will cost you to keep these pictures out of the press. To protect your beloved little family from the stupidity of your little sister and her lover, your body is the payment I want. "