Ella
I’m finding it difficult to keep any food down. My stomach was uneasy before I got word from the garrison, but now food is of no interest to me, so when I do eat, it makes me feel worse than when I don’t. Perhaps I simply prefer the sharp pang of an empty stomach to that of the heavy churning of nausea.
“Ella, dear, you must eat more. If you weren’t expecting, I’d feel less concern, but with the babe, you must find a way.” Beatrice rubs my shoulders.
“I know. I have terrible guilt over it, over everything. I was only married for a very short time, and somehow, I’ve managed to acquire more regrets than from my entire unmarried life.” I swallow a painful lump in my throat. “I let so many things get in the way of simply loving my husband the way he deserves. I doubted my emotions and kept them hidden inside, not letting him hear the truth and never realizing how selfish I was being. I thought I had time. I was waiting for the courage to simply speak the truth in my heart.”
I should have never let the ideas about love that my mother and society instilled in me rule me the way they did. They limit me from being my true self, even when Alasdair was pushing me to simply be who I am. He died knowing he had the love of his family, likely everyone here at Galloway Castle, his friends, and his crew, but not his wife.
I think about the baby growing inside me as I sit here in a fog of despair, and I make a commitment that I will not let my child live with the restricted emotions of the gentry. When his time comes to wed, or even before, the true feelings in his heart will easily be spoken. Our child will grow into an adult who isn’t burdened with doubt but confident in the way he expresses his love—just like his father.
“Ella, my darling, you mustn’t commit yourself to the idea that he is gone. There is no certainty at this point. I don’t understand why you insist upon being hopeless. It simply isn’t like you. You have reason to be afraid and even to doubt, but why you are insisting that he died in that battle is beyond comprehension. You must always have hope, my love. Especially now.”
“I have my reasons, none of which would make sense to anyone. You might think I have lost my mind. But regardless, they overpower all sense of hope I have left.”
“I won’t push any further, but I will hold on to hope for both of us. Now, let’s go downstairs and visit with Mary a while longer before she leaves.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
My body aches with fatigue and the weight of my sadness. I need to go for a walk, preferably a long one, to breathe fresh air and move my body. But I am so tired, I’m not sure I can make it across the moor to the forest edge, let alone to the clearing by the sea.
Entering the parlor, we find Mary sitting on the sofa reading a letter. Whatever it says has her full attention because she doesn’t even notice that Beatrice and I have walked in.
“Is everything well, Mary?” I ask with true concern.
“Oh, hello, ladies. I apologize…I’m…yes, everything is fine,” she fumbles.
“That wasn’t very convincing, cousin. Who is that letter from?”
Beatrice and I sit across from her, and I can’t help but notice the mixture of emotions clear on her face.
“Well, I wrote a letter to Graham and have received one in return. But I have also received one from my mother.” Her eyes remain focused on the papers lying on her lap.
“Can we start with your letter to Graham? What did you say?” I ask.
She hesitates for a moment. “I told him the truth. That I have made up my mind, that I cannot ignore my feelings for him, and that I will no longer be pressured to only pursue a man that is titled. If that means my family will have nothing to do with me, then so be it. I will not live a life of misery simply to please my mother and father.” Her voice strains with the last sentence.
“And what was his response?”
Her smile widens, and her eyes sparkle with mischief before she answers, “You must understand that Graham loves to taunt me with his arrogance. He knows I have a mind of my own—he’s rather charmed by that notion—and he loves to play sport with my ire. So, his message was short and to the point.” She picks up his letter and reads it word for word.
My Dearest Lady Mary,
I have received your letter and am pleased to know you have accepted my hand in marriage. It is fortunate that you are currently so near Gretna Green, and your journey to meet me there will be short. I will bring my finest carriage so that once we are wed, your journey with me to my estate in Lancaster will be pleasant. There, we will enjoy ourselves and begin our married life together.
Consider yourself affianced.
I will see you in Gretna Green on the 2nd of September 1798.
Your soon-to-be husband,
Graham Knightly
“My goodness, Mary. That is awfully fast. Are you sure this is what you want?” Beatrice asks, not knowing as much of the story as I do.
“Not only fast, but presumptuous,” I add, raising a brow.
Mary throws her head back and laughs. “Well, he is that. But he will also be perturbed when he has to follow me around Gretna Green, trying his damnedest to get me to agree to be his wife. Though, just between us, I think he’d be disappointed if I did otherwise.”