She forced a chuckle, and fled the room before Mary could say another word.
* * *
Despite this, it was only an hour or so before Mary found Charlotte in the latter’s bedroom. Charlotte had spent the better part of that hour weeping—better to get it all out now, and compose herself so as not to embarrass her hostess—and after splashing her face with cold water, was feeling thoroughly drained. She looked up when the door opened, the unopened book still lying in her lap.
“Am I bothering you?” Mary asked, hovering in the doorway.
“Of course not. Come in.”
Mary crossed the room, but rather than seating herself in the opposite armchair, she leaned in for a kiss. Charlotte blanched, unable to help herself. It was too much to be expected to perform these familiar, sweet actions now that she knew she was only a placeholder until Miss Carlisle returned.
“Why do you pull away?” Mary frowned. “Surely now—I thought we had an understanding.”
Charlotte rose, sidling past Mary. “Perhaps I ought to take a walk in the garden. Some fresh air would be lovely.”
Mary glanced at the fully open windows, through which a gentle breeze blew, and back at Charlotte. One eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Indeed. If you give me a moment, I shall accompany you.”
“There is no need,” Charlotte said hastily, feeling tears prickle again. “I would not like to bother you.”
“Good grief, what is going on?” Mary snapped. “First you run from breakfast, then you don’t want to kiss me, then you avoid spending time with me.”
“I should think it was obvious.”
“You may think what you like, but that does not make it so. Pray, give me an explanation.” Mary stepped closer, the familiar scent of violets flooding the air. “Why are you acting this way?”
“Because I want you,” Charlotte cried, startling herself with the violence of her own temper. “I want you and I should not. Have you never thought what it must be like for me? To discover that there is a world with you in it, far less a world where you desire me even for a moment—me, plain old Charlotte Lucas, who was never anything to anyone—and then I discover that other women want you too and—” Her chest heaved, her lungs short of breath.
“You’re jealous,” Mary breathed, as if the idea had never occurred to her before. Her forehead wrinkled. “Dearest, I—”
Charlotte was tired of this charade. “Of course I am jealous! And you wouldn’t take me to bed, so you needn’t pretend I am not lacking in some way. I just wish you would have told me why, so I could have attempted to correct it, or at least—”
I wish I could have had you,she thought, her chest aching with unspoken words,even once. I would have spent the rest of my life dreaming of that moment.
“Please, stop. Please. Let me speak. I did not think—I mean, I hoped that…” Mary reached for Charlotte’s hands, held them tightly. “That is to say, I am very fond of you, and I do not say such things lightly. My friends would tell you as much, were they here, though I am glad that they are not.”
Though sweet, the words barely made an impact. Of course Mary had prior relationships. Of course she had experienced such things with other women. Had kissed them, had takenthem to bed. Had felt bare womanflesh pressed against her. Had sought enjoyment and given pleasure. Knowing it was one thing, picturing quite another. Mary’s mouth on Miss Carlisle’s neck; Mary’s hands unbuttoning Miss Carlisle’s dress. The jealousy Charlotte felt now was hot and sickening and entirely new.
“Did you love her?” Each word dropped like a mossy stone into a fathomless well. She waited to hear the impact.
“I did, once.”
Splash, Charlotte thought,nausea simmering in her stomach.I ought to throw myself in too.
“I suppose I should tell you a little about it, though I would rather not,” Mary continued, guiding Charlotte onto the rug, where they sat side by side with their backs against the sturdy armchair. “In short, Anne and I were together for two years, though we broke things off several times. It was rather tempestuous, for we were ill-matched, and rather than see sense from the beginning, we kept trying to make the relationship work. She was charming and persuasive, but her word meant nothing.” Her laugh was bitter. “After each fight, she would go off chasing any society lady she thought might be useful to her or elevate her rank in some way. Anne succeeded in bedding a couple of my friends, too, though I did not discover this until after we ended things for good. One I think she simply bedded for fun, and one I know she must have chosen to hurt me, for they often flirted together in front of me. She even tried to woo Delia Highbridge, though Delia would never have been interested even if Anne were the type of woman she found attractive.”
“That is deplorable behavior indeed,” said Charlotte, shocked beyond belief. “I cannot believe you would ever stand for such a thing.”
“Behaviour I can only attribute to the weakness of love. And yet, I never felt as if I really knew her, or that she knew me. And worse, when Mrs Tremaine first came to town, Anne beddedher too, even though she and I were together. After I had broken things off with Anne for the last time, almost a year ago, Mrs Tremaine tried to pursue me, first by befriending me by using my perceived vulnerability, which was bad enough.” She rolled her shoulders, evidently uncomfortable with the memory. “Then when I refused to succumb to her advances, she tried to persuade me that bedding her would be a great revenge on Anne. It was not a notion I cared for, and it was all rather a mess, in the end.” Mary tried to smile, though it did not extend as far as her eyes. “So perhaps now you see why I have been rather reticent to go to bed. I have not taken a lover since.”
“Of course.” Charlotte’s mind was in turmoil. Mary had been badly wounded and although it was something of a relief to discover that Charlotte was not the cause of her reticence, she felt terrible that Mary had been put through something so horrible by someone who purported to love her. “Please allow me to reassure you that your comfort is my foremost concern.”
Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around Mary, who leaned in with a sigh. “We shall never do anything you are not certain of, and rest assured that I would wait as long as you wanted. Forever, if that were the case.”
“You are too kind. I ought to be the one saying such things to you.”
“I am not some blushing virgin,” Charlotte reminded her. “I was married for four years. Though I do not pretend to know what I am doing in this particular instance, I am sure that if we ever reach that stage, you will be so kind as to instruct me in the subtle arts of lovemaking.” She pressed a kiss to Mary’s cheek. “I apologise for my behaviour. I was so jealous, I could hardly think straight.”
Mary turned her head so that her lips were pressing against Charlotte’s neck. Her breath was warm, tickling the sensitive spot under Charlotte’s earlobe. “You have no reason to be, you know. Before you came along, I had sworn off love entirely.”
