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Abigail couldn’t help but laugh a little through her tears. ‘I didn’t realise you’d seen them as well.’
‘He took some of them to the Barrow Fair. Do you remember? He had a little stall, and was telling people very proudly that he’d stuffed all of them himself.’
‘Ugh. The worst was the kingfisher—poor creature.’
‘Not true. The worst was the pelican. They hardly have any nobility in life, and lose what little they have when stuffed and used as a ghoulish attraction.’ Mary patted Abigail’s back. ‘And now that I’ve changed the subject for a little while, dear, and you’ve stopped sobbing into my shawl… please tell me why you’re here.’
Another one of Mary’s great talents was tenacity. She would appear to drop a subject, sometimes for weeks or months, and then bring it up with the weary air of a warrior about to win the final battle. Abigail, pushing away yet more memories of Marcus, succumbed.
She told Mary. Not well, and certainly not furnishing her with all of the details, but enough. Enough for Mary’s eyes to grow wide, very wide indeed, any trace of superior calm vanishing as Abigail came to the crux of it.
‘… And so, I find myself here. He—he meant it to be a surprise, I think.’ She paused, an indescribable exhaustion falling onto her shoulders. ‘And it was a surprise, of course. A bad one.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘To steal things for the thrill of it, rather than pure necessity—it is a dreadfully selfish pastime.’
‘I agree.’
‘And if he kept such an enormous thing concealed from me—the truth of his parentage, his wealth—I cannot possibly trust anything else he says.’
‘… Yes.’
‘Was that pause meant to be significant?’
‘Well.’ Mary gently disentangled herself from Anna’s embrace. She looked up at the vast front door of the estate, her gaze darting to the impressive entrance hall behind it. ‘I think people have had worse surprises, my dear.’
‘I would have infinitely preferred it if he had brought me to a simple shepherd’s hut. It would mean that he had been telling the truth.’
‘I’m sure you think you would have preferred it. I say that without wishing to demean, dear, really.’ Mary gave another long, careful pause; Abigail waited, her jaw locked with frustration. ‘But you’ve been brought to one of the most impressive properties in England, and informed that your dashing rescuer is both astonishingly wealthy and, although passionate about a rather silly pastime, dedicated to using the proceeds for good. Apart from the deception—and I’m not belittling that part, truly—just what is so terrible about this?’
‘The deception is terrible enough.’
‘Is it?’
‘You said you weren’t belittling the deception!’
‘At the start of this adventure, you were strangers to one another. You are frank, Abigail, and truthful—it is one of your greatest qualities. But why should His Grace, despite his clear eccentricities when it comes to certain aspects of his life, completely unburden his soul to a woman he had just met?’
Abigail opened her mouth, then closed it. Mary, evidently encouraged by her friend’s silence, continued.
‘Perhaps he was afraid of how you would react. And given what has happened, he had good reasons for that.’
‘That—that doesn’t make him right.’
‘No, it doesn’t. But it does make him human. Just like you.’
Had… had she reacted without caution, without care? Had she let her previous experiences cloud her judgement, her trust in Marcus, leading her to attack him furiously when gentle criticism would have worked just as well?
Had she ruined one of the best things that had ever happened to her, all because she was too scared to recognise it?
‘Well. It… it doesn’t matter, in the end.’ The tears were back, gathering in the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t let them fall. If she was going to accept her role in this, she couldn’t cry like a child any more. ‘Because I am going to the Continent.’
‘Are you still determined to go, Abigail?’
‘More determined than ever.’ Now that she’d wiped away any chance of a future, this unexpected treasure that had fallen into her lap, she had to return to the original plan. ‘Is Winnie’s cousin still willing to house me?’
‘Of course she is. She’s dreadfully bored in Florence and would welcome the company. How one can be bored in Florence I’m not entirely sure, but she’s managed it.’ Mary paused. ‘And there’s work, from what I hear. Plenty of children that need governesses.’
