Libby,
I don’t know how to begin this letter. I have given you no reason to trust me and every reason to hate me. I would not blame you if you tore it up and threw it into the fire without reading further. But I hope you do not. It has never been easy for me to talk about my feelings, especially in person. It is my hope that I can do so on paper, so I will try.
Ever since leaving Cumberland Hall, I have been plagued by guilt, and I cannot face the battlefield without writing to you first. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat, knowing that I have hurt you deeply. My behavior, on our wedding night and when I visited for Christmas, is inexcusable. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope you will try.
You might not believe it, Libby, but even before Lady Paget introduced us at the Crewe House, I had already noticed you. I remember precisely the moment you entered the ballroom, wearing that green gown. At the time, I didn’t know you were the one Lady Paget had told me about. You moved with such grace and quiet dignity, sadness in your lovely green eyes. When Lady Paget introduced us, I could not believe my good fortune.
You are aware that I had no choice but to take a wealthy bride. It was the only way to save CumberlandHall. Perhaps, since you’ve been living there yourself, you understand my consuming desire to preserve her for future generations. I would have done almost anything for her—would have married almost anyone. Imagine my pleasure when it was you that I could marry. Not only would I save my ancestral home, but I would be the envy of every man in England.
Everything happened so quickly. I had my own purposes and intentions in mind and did not consider how you might feel. It was my understanding that you wanted the marriage as much as I did. Lady Paget had assured me this was the case. The morning I went to Berkeley Square to make my offer, your mother claimed you were in full agreement. The contract she had written felt unnecessary, but she insisted.
Until I lifted your wedding veil and saw the tears in your eyes, I foolishly believed you approved of the match. That moment will forever be etched into my mind. Your weeping slayed me, but it was too late. Everything had been done. All the papers signed. If I had backed out then, your mother’s contract ensured I would lose what little I had left.
I swear that our wedding night was not what I intended. I left you in our stateroom after we boarded the ship feeling like a cad. I knew what I had done to you, what I had taken from you by going through with the wedding. I tried to drown my guilt and shame with too many drinks. When I returned to you that night, I was not myself. And for the rest of the voyage, I could not bear to speak to you, knowing what I had done. I was embarrassed and ashamed.
When I returned to Cumberland Hall for Christmas, I truly hoped to put all of it behind us. I had tried to convince myself that you might have forgotten what Idid, but it was evident as you pulled away from me that you had not. That night in the library was not meant to happen. I was upset and worried about going to war, and I overindulged again. Please believe me when I say that I did not intend to hurt you, though I know I have. I have done something inexcusable and unforgivable, and I’m not sure how I can ever face you again.
But I am now a captain in His Majesty’s Army, working as an aide to the commander of the 1st Army of the British Expeditionary Forces. I could not face the battlefield knowing what you must think of me, but I am under no illusion that you will easily forgive me. This letter isn’t meant to make you forget or even to forgive, but to understand my intentions. It is my prayer that one day I will have the opportunity to make things right. I don’t deserve a second or third chance, but I’m hoping you can give me one. I will do everything I can to be worthy of the right to be called your husband.
Reggie
I stared at the letter, numb and confused. If I were not familiar with his handwriting, I would have thought someone else had written it. Reggie had never given me reason to believe he cared about my feelings. There was so much I didn’t know about him, but everything he said in the letter felt genuine. I wasn’t under any illusion. I knew he had written because of his fear of facing death on the battlefield. Would I have listened if he tried to share his feelings with me in person? He had hurt me deeply, in ways that might not be repairable.
Yet I was now committed to this path because of the baby. For better or worse, Reggie would be my husband for the rest of my life. If he was even half the man he claimed to be in his letter, did he deserve a second or third chance, as he had putit? Was it possible to give him another opportunity to prove himself? Could I trust him?
And what of his claim that it had been Mother Wells who insisted upon a marriage contract? She had said it was Reggie who madehersign one—yet his letter stated differently. This whole time, I had thought Reggie was threatening to ruin Father, but it had been part of Mother’s manipulations. Would Reggie really have let me call the whole thing off?
None of it mattered anymore. There was no room in my life for regret. The child I carried was as much a part of him as it was a part of me. If nothing else, the baby deserved parents who could find a way to move forward. I could not abide raising a child in a home like the one I had grown up in with Father and Mother Wells.
I put my hand to my stomach as the first sense of maternal affection came over me. My baby had not asked to be born, to be brought into this world, yet she was here. And I could not leave her or do anything that would harm her. I had a beautiful home, a substantial bank account, and a good name. My child would be born into a life of luxury and refinement. She would have all the advantages available to a woman in the twentieth century—and she would have me and, one day, her father.
Tears gathered in my eyes at the realization that I loved her dearly, though I did not yet know her. And if she was marked, though I prayed she was not, I would be here to guide her through whatever lives God chose to grant to her. It was the gift my mother had given me, and it was the gift I would give to my child.
I was tired after sitting in the conservatory all morning and ready for a lie down. Already, my body was experiencing changes due to my pregnancy, and it was exhausting.
Edith helped me change into a nightgown and then pulled back the covers on my bed so I could climb in. My eyelids were heavy as I laid my head upon the pillow.
A light knock sounded at the door, and Edith went to see who had come. One of the chambermaids stood outside my room. Edith spoke to her in low tones and then came back to me.
Her eyebrows were pulled together in disapproval. “Mary would like to speak to you. She says she has something you might like to have, but she won’t tell me what it is. Should I send her away?”
Curiosity made me sit up as I motioned for Mary to enter the room. I had only seen her a few times, since she usually cleaned downstairs before I left my bedchamber in the morning and then worked upstairs while I was on the main floor. My path rarely crossed with those of the chambermaids.
She was a quiet woman, small and pale, with big eyes and light brown hair. On the morning of the raid, as I had spoken to the maids to try to calm their fears, Mary had told me her mother was a local healer but that Mary’s older sister would take over her mother’s practice. That left Mary without an income, so she had come to Cumberland Hall to make something of her life. She had made her family proud and would do anything to keep her job.
Now she entered my bedchamber tentatively, looking about as if she’d never seen it before, though she cleaned it every day.
“Mary?” I offered a welcoming smile so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I’d like to speak to you alone, milady, if I may.”
“Of course.”
Mary looked to Edith, who made an exasperated face and then left the room.
“Please speak freely.” I was sitting with my back against the pillows and my arms over the blanket. I was tired, but my interest had been piqued, and I felt a surge of newfound energy.
She stopped about two feet away from the bed and glanced around again, as if looking to see if anyone was listening. “I don’t mean to be impudent or presumptuous, milady, but I heard you were upset after Dr. Aiken left yesterday.”
