Almost Persuaded: Miss Mary King (5 page)

“Have I a
chance? Do I dare hope your feelings for me are a semblance of my
feelings for you?”

Yes!
She silently screamed. She thought better of speaking the
sentiments aloud.
Whilst my affection for him is equal to his regard for me,
I dare not confess it—not in the absence of a proper declaration of
his intentions.
“Mr. Wickham—”

Braced against
the bookshelves, her body clamoured for something she knew not
what. He pressed his lips against hers, gentle at first and then
urgently, coaxing her lips apart. The swirl of his tongue against
hers convinced her there was nothing she would not do for the
dashing officer who held her so intimately. His ardent kisses and
pleasing caresses served as confirmation of his devotion. Such
happy prospects for their future marital felicity pirouetted in her
mind.

She moaned. The effect upon him was immediate. He unleashed
himself. A shivering moan escaped her once again.
What is happening?
Mr. Wickham is an officer. What is more, he is a gentleman. Surely
his intentions are honourable.
Assured they were as good as betrothed,
she ignored her mind’s cautioning whispers and obeyed her body’s
fiery demands to surrender to the passions her lover’s roaming
hands induced. Elevated in his strong embrace, the hem of her black
bombazine gown now mysteriously gathered about her waist, she
allowed him to coax her body closer to his. The touch of his long,
possessive fingers commencing an exploration of her most intimate
parts flooded her core with waves of satisfaction—satiating a
hunger she never knew existed. Before she even knew what he was
about—what she was about—his hardness was pressed against her moist
softness, poised to sweep her beyond the threshold of
innocence.

The faint
rattle of the door-handle pierced her bliss. Startled, she pulled
away—ever so slightly—just enough. “Did you hear a noise?”

He lowered her
to the floor without surrendering her from his arms. His breath was
warm against her neckline, his voice thick with passion. “Pay no
attention. The house is empty save the two of us and the servants.
I secured the lock. No one will interrupt us.”

He trailed
open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her neck. Her heart
fluttered as he lowered her bodice, exposing her. He brushed his
lips against her throbbing tips and commenced to adore her. His
ardent caresses and the pretty words whispered in between once
again commandeered her sensibilities.

Another sound
compelled her to ease away, allowing enough space to cross her arms
over herself. “There it is again, Mr. Wickham. Perhaps—”

He placed his
finger over her lips. “Trust me. There is no one there. Whoever it
was has gone away.”

“I—”

“You want
this. I want this. Let me do this—for us.” His soft, tantalising
whispers unleashed piercing tremors throughout her body. “We
mustn’t stop. I will be quick about this. Trust me.”

Oh, how she trusted him! Trusted what was to come.
Is this not the
fantasy of every woman who has ever been in love?
She fought the urge
to berate herself for the unladylike thoughts she always suffered
in his presence of late. Never had she known such pleasures as
those he currently bestowed—his kisses so ardent and his touch so
searing.
I
shall cherish the memory of this moment for all time.

Just when he had reclaimed her in his eager embrace—her
moistness inviting his ardour, his hardness pressing forth to mark
her as his, sobriety awakened her. Awareness of her situation
overcame her.
I cannot allow this—not now, not like this. We shall be
married soon enough.
She eased herself away. She clenched her upper
thighs. “Sir, we must not—”

The doors
crashed open, and light from the hallway flooded the room,
rendering further protests futile as Wickham jerked himself away.
In stormed her father, his eyes fiery with rage, brandishing a
large club.

Part 4 – Akin to
Regret

Her ardour sufficiently doused, Mary made haste in
correcting her attire so she would not appear quite the spectacle
to her father. Wickham did likewise. That she was almost persuaded
to surrender her maidenhood outside the sanctity of marriage could
be of little doubt. Sensibility now fervently in control of desire,
she congratulated herself. Her innocence was not lost. His back
facing them, Wickham continued righting himself.

The fierce
pounding of her heartbeat notwithstanding, Mary approached her
father with hopes of restraining his fury. “Papa, I beg your
forgiveness. This is not what it seems. Mr. Wickham and I are
enga—”

He curled his
lips. “Silence, Mary! I will hear nothing from you.”

“But,
Papa!”

As soon as
Wickham turned, Mr. King swung his weapon for what would have been
a lethal blow had Wickham not cowered. Mary grabbed hold of her
father’s arm before he could swing again. Anne rushed into the
room. Her expression horrified, her demeanour determined, she
pulled Mary away from the barbarous ruckus.

“Come away,
Mary, before you meet with harm.”

Wrenching and
struggling, Mary jerked out of Anne’s grasp. She threw herself
between her father and her lover. “But, Papa!”

Mr. King’s
voice roiled with thunder. “Get her out of here!”

Anne forcefully ushered Mary out of the room. A burley
servant racing to the scene nearly tumbled them over. Mary’s
heartbeat hammered against her chest. Pounding flesh, menacing
groans, breaking glass, and falling objects echoed throughout the
halls.
How
has an evening with the man I love come to this?

Once inside
Mary’s room, Anne settled her charge by the fire and commenced
pacing. “How could you have allowed yourself to be so easily
persuaded to surrender your virtue to that man?”

“How can you
even ask such a question? You know how I cherish him. What is more,
he admires me. We are to be married.”

“Did he offer
you his hand?”

Mary bit her
lower lip. She relished the spiced taste of him still lingering.
“Not in so many words.”

“What did he
say?”

“He reminded
me of his desires, his hopes, his plans, and how our dreams are one
and the same.”

Anne threw her
hands in the air. “Do you know nothing of the opposite sex? He
would have said anything at that moment to satisfy his
desires.”

“Not Mr.
Wickham. You simply do not know him.”

“I know his
kind—all too well. You are most fortunate in having a father who
cares enough about you to protect you from the likes of Mr.
Wickham.”

Nervous and
full of fear over her lover’s fate, Mary stood and strode towards
the window. She folded her arms about her shoulders. “I do not
consider myself as fortunate. I am rather embarrassed. What must
Mr. Wickham think of me? How shall I face him again?”

Anne anchored her hands about her waist. “You
should
be embarrassed as
well as ashamed. As far as facing the gentleman, I believe if your
father has his way, you shall never lay eyes upon him again—barring
any unfortunate consequences.”

“Anne, there
shall be no unintended consequences. Nothing happened. As for my
not seeing him again, I believe you are wrong. No doubt after what
has happened, Papa will insist the gentleman and I marry. That
shall satisfy both of us.”

“I believe
your father would see Mr. Wickham face down in a pool of the man’s
own blood rather than consent to an alliance between the two of
you.”

“You are
wrong. I am sure they are discussing the impending marriage as we
speak.”

“You are
determined to believe that some good will become of this. You must
prepare yourself for the exact opposite. Your father was livid when
he came upon you and rightfully so. Nothing will remove the
spectacle of what happened from his brain.”

Mary headed
towards the door.

“Where are you
going?”

“I must see
Papa. I must allow him a chance to hear from me what has taken
place. I must make him understand what he saw.”

“No—you had
much better remain in your room until his ire has cooled than risk
reanimating his wrath.” Miss Heston tiptoed towards the door.
“Things have quieted considerably. I shall go downstairs to speak
with your father. I pray he spared your Mr. Wickham’s life—that he
sent that vile man on his way and we never see him again.”

Mary drew a
sharp breath. “I know you never truly cared for him, but I always
supposed you were on my side.”

Anne embraced
her charge. “I am on your side. Your father is on your side. Mr.
Wickham is not worthy of you, Mary. The sooner you accept it, the
better.”

As Anne opened the door, Mary threw a defiant look at her
companion.
I
shall never accept it.
Mary was glad for the solitude Anne’s departure
afforded, for it allowed her to dwell upon those things that
mattered most to her.
I must see him, but how?
She crumpled her brow and bit her
lower lip.
I
shall send word to him. He cares for me. Surely he is as eager as I
am to clear up this misunderstanding.

Mary proceeded to her writing desk. Halfway through the
first sentence, she paused.
After what happened in the library, who amongst
the servants will see that he receives my missive? I must find
another way. I have no one to rely on save myself.

I shall set out on my own.
She furrowed her brow and threaded her
fingers through her hair.
How might I possibly leave undetected?
Anticipating the
obstacles and strategizing the means of overcoming them, Mary arose
from her seat and commenced pacing.
I shall fashion a rope from my bed cloths,
attach it to the bedpost, and climb down. Then, I shall make way to
the stable and avail myself of one of Papa’s horses. How difficult
can it be to carry out my scheme?

She dashed to the window, pushed it open, and poked her
head outside. The chilly night air, combined with the prospect of
finding herself entangled in the thorny bushes below, was akin to a
splash of cold water on her face.
What on earth am I thinking? As much as I
wish to see Mr. Wickham, fleeing into the night is not the answer.
I dare not compound this evening’s chaos.

She closed the window, headed towards her bed, and threw
herself on it.
Temperance is what is called for, not
recklessness.

I am on the
verge of marrying the man who satisfies my every desire. Surely
Papa will understand. I rely upon his support. More than that, I
value his good opinion.

She passed what seemed like hours, sitting in the window
seat and gazing at the bright full moon. Never had she seen her
father in such a violent rage.
However did my dear Wickham fare against
Papa’s assault? Is he wounded? I shall never forgive myself should
that be the case.

It had all been her own doing. Her wanton behaviour would
never be excused, just as the disappointment in her father’s face
would never be erased from her memory. That she had been the means
of such unhappiness and disappointment pained her.
What a wretched
situation this is.

A light rap on
the door summoned Mary to her feet. She wiped a tear from her eye
and hurried to open the door. “Anne?”

“Mary, you
must go to your father. He wants you in the library.” She was gone
directly.

Her father was
walking about the room, looking grave and anxious. “Mary, my child,
what has happened to you? Are you out of your senses to allow that
foul man to compromise you in this fashion? What is to become of
you—the prospects for your future—should there be any unintended
consequences pursuant to your recklessness?”

“You must not
worry, Papa, for nothing happened.”

“If you
mean to say he did not ruin you in the eyes of your future husband,
then I must thank God for that, but something certainly did happen.
If what took place just hours ago in this very room were known to
Society, then you would be ruined in the eyes of the world in
general. One can only pray that scoundrel has the decency to keep
his mouth shut. It is only for the sake of your reputation I did
not kill him.”

Her heartbeat
fluttered. “Mr. Wickham would never utter a word of what occurred
between us. He is an officer as well as a gentleman. What is more,
it is a private matter between two people who are committed to each
other.”

“I must allow
the fact that you believe the gentleman holds you in esteem as an
excuse for your foolishness. However, I will not abide you standing
here and defending him—not when I know the truth. Sit, my child.
You shall hear the truth as well.”

Mary took a
seat. She cast a cursory glance about the room, waiting for her
father’s retort. All evidence of the earlier chaos was erased.

“That
reprobate may be an officer, but he is no gentleman. Do you suppose
a true gentleman would have called upon you under the cover of
darkness at a time when he knew you were not chaperoned? Would a
true gentleman have proceeded to seduce you—thinking no one would
be present to stop him?”

“Papa, why are
you ascribing such nefarious motives to Mr. Wickham? I confess he
may have known you were out for the evening, but he had no
knowledge that Anne was out as well.”

“You are
mistaken. He and Miss Heston exchanged greetings in Meryton no more
than an hour before we came upon the two of you. His interest in
your whereabouts drew her suspicion, and she immediately sought me
out so we might return home. It is a good thing, too. I do not need
to say what would have happened had we arrived a moment later.”