An Innocent Affair

XXXII

"How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure." Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo 

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XXXII.

Cressie was frozen still, her mouth agape as she stared at Zara with wide-eyed shock. Her expression, Cressie was certain, was mirrored in Zara's own astonishment at her discovery upon entering the flat above Belle's shop.

The ever-present fear that existed within her paralysed her, perhaps even stopping her heart from beating. Whatever little minute ounce of hope that Cressie had accidentally manufactured had vanished, and she felt like the hands of Hades were reaching up to seize her, and to take her back where she belonged.

Jem, perhaps, felt the panic and fear from Cressie, and his arm tightened protectively around her. But this did nothing to settle Cressie's dread. She could not look away from Zara.

"I'm sorry," apologised Belle emphatically, her voice wracked with guilt, "I tried to stop her."

"Miss Delaney," Jem said, his voice alarmingly cool and calm, "would you please sit down?"

Zara was just as paralysed to the spot as Cressie was, and it took Belle leading her to the second sofa to get her to move. Zara nearly tripped over her own feet on the way, and she rather ungracefully plopped down into seat, her blue eyes never leaving the scene in front of her. Belle took a seat next to Zara, though she was merely resting on the edge of the cushion. She looked about ready to run to the door and block it if Zara meant to escape out into the street and shout this secret affair at the tops of her lungs.

But it wasn't an affair! It wasn't. It was innocent. Cressie and Jem were both innocent. They were both victims of this wicked place, and their wicked customs and rules.

"Your aunt has done nothing wrong," Jem began firmly. "Cressie and I have known one another for a long time, and –"

"You can't tell him!"

It took Cressie a moment to realise that the horridly panicked shriek of a sentence had come from her lips. Her tone so shocked Zara that she jumped.

"You can't!" she willed again, seeming to find her voice, no matter how terrifyingly shaky it was. "Please, you don't understand. You can't tell him."

"Cressie," Zara stammered, her voice equally as shaky, "he is not your husband." She lifted a trembling finger to point at Jem. "My uncle is. What are you doing?"

Cressie didn't have the words to explain. She didn't know how to explain this situation without revealing Everett's true nature to Zara, and how would that be to ruin whatever bond her niece had with her uncle?

Jem, however, had no such qualms.

"Your uncle is a blackguard and a wretch," he spat angrily. "He does not warrant the title of man, let alone the honour of husband."

Zara had probably never heard a man speak with such a vicious tone before, and she was visibly affronted. She recoiled into the stuffing of the sofa and all colour drained from her face. Her blue eyes searched Cressie, trying to find the truth in Jem's accusations.

"I cannot believe this," Zara whispered.

"You can," Jem urged forcefully. "Think back to our conversation," he prompted. "What did I say about her? What did I tell you about Cressie?"

Cressie was momentarily confused but recalled the brief conversation that Zara had shared with Jem when he had come to call. She had chosen to amuse herself on the opposite side of the large room, purposefully humming to herself so as not to hear one iota of flirtation from either party.