It was a foolish, selfish thing to do but I couldn't help myself. I'd first held to comfort her, drawing my arms close around her as she buried her head in my chest. Mary had needed me. I had spent so long yearning for her, now she was in my arms and clinging to me. All those times she had held me at arms length and now she needed me to hold her. I savoured the moment, until her tears abated and she looked up. There was a change in her face, from despair to courage; it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
So I'd kissed her.
With the tenderness of a lover, I'd wiped the tears away and tilted up her chin. Those lips I had venerated for so long were against mine. The salty smell of tears were still on her face, like the sea and sadness. There was a sudden pressure on my chest as she pushed me away. I knew I had gone too far.
"William! What an Earth do you think you are doing?" Mary said.
There was only one other time I had seen such anger on her face and that time it has been directed at Fred. It shook me, but I realised it was no time to hold back. I had to make my declaration once and for all.
"You know how I feel about you," I said.
"Yes," Mary said. "And I told you that I love you as a friend only. As a brother."
"I couldn't stand seeing you so sad," I said.
"So you thought seeing me angry would be better?"
I fell silent. I had let my impulses get the better of me and I was sorry for it. Mary was so upset, I felt like a cad. She had been weeping for her husband and I had tried to take advantage of her. Hurting Mary was the last thing I wanted and loving her was the thing I wanted most, I didn't need her to love me. If I was addicted to melodrama, I would have sunk to my knees and begged for her forgiveness, instead I shifted awkwardly. I felt a sickness inside, I had ruined everything between us.
"Mary, I am sorry," I said.
"No, I am sorry," she said. "I misjudged our friendship. I should not have asked you to help."
"Don't say that Mary," I said. "I would do anything you asked, I would lay down my life for you."
"I don't want you to!" Mary said. "I just needed your help with this because I thought you were someone I could trust."
"You can trust me!"
"You kissed me, William, and I am a married woman."
She was the most married woman I knew. Fred Wilkes could be the most irresponsible, villainous cad in all of England and yet she'd still stay faithful to him. However much he humiliated her, however much he dragged her down, Mary would not compromise herself. In any other circumstance, her loyalty would be something I admired. I knew I should throw myself at her feet and grovel, that I should forget about my love for her and remember her place in society, but that kiss had reminded me of how long I had wanted her. Declarations of love had never been my strong suit, I had always been too timid and too late. For the last few years I had been a ridiculous sight, trotting dolefully after a woman who overlooked my devotion to her. In vain, I struggled for the poetry to capture the moment. Instead, I had to go for simple honesty.
"I love you, Mary," I said. "I love you and I want to marry you."
"No, you don't," she said quietly. "You love the idea of me, not the person I really am."
"Mary, that is nonsense!"
"No it isn't," she said. "You only see the public me, you don't see the cracks underneath. Only Fred does and even he doesn't know it all. Believe me William, nothing would make you more miserable than marrying the real me."
"If this about what was said in court," I faltered, thinking about the terrible accusation the prosecution had made. "It doesn't matter, I promise."
Mary fell silent.
The room was so quiet, all you could hear was the ticking of the clock and the sound of our breathing. My body was full of that sick feeling of shame one feels when a huge mistake has been made. Why had I given into my longing? I had never been a man to act on impulse, I was always careful and measured. I glanced at the table full of documents and correspondence, remembering it could be the only thing standing between Fred Wilkes and the gallows. I could not leave Mary alone with the task, even if in my heart I wanted him gone from her life. I had no interest in justice for Daniel Mordaunt being served, from what I had seen of Mary's fear then he deserved to be shot. Whether he had blackmailed her with her love letters or robbed her of her virginity, it was clear as day that the brute had it coming.
"You shouldn't have kissed me, William," she said. "I love my husband, despite what you think of him."
I had to admit defeat and hope for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry, Mary," I said. "I'll make it up to you."
"You'll have to apologise to Fred," she said.
"You're going to tell him about this?"
"No, William, you are going to tell him," Mary said firmly. "If you want to stay in my life."
"He'll knock my block off!"
"You should have thought of that," Mary shrugged. "Besides, he wouldn't hit you, he knows that would upset me."
I was doubtful but I reluctantly agreed. If Fred Wilkes was ever released I would have to face my punishment like a man, I supposed. My honesty would surely be reward with a punch on the nose. Served me right for committing such an impropriety. Try as I might, I couldn't push aside the memory of the savage beating Wilkes had given Mordaunt and wondered if I would meet a similar fate.
Mary returned to sifting through the documents and I was unnerved by the awkwardness of the silence, that was only broken my the rustling of paper. I looked down at the pile of train tickets in front of me and started to look through them.
"Lots of train journeys," I remarked.
Mary made no reply.
"Just put all his old tickets in a box and forgot about them. Bognor Regis, St Pancras, Hopton-on-Sea, Lybster, York, Bishopton, Winterbourne..."
I read them out, scanning for the dates that could exonerate him.
"Say that last destination again!" Mary said, her eyes snapped over to where I was.
"Winterbourne?"
"The one before," she said.
"Bishopton," I said, offering her the ticket. "Never heard of the place. Wrong date though."
Mary frowned as she took the ticket, a look of puzzlement that I had never seen in her before. Seeing the effect of the ticket, I quickly searched for others. There were three more that I placed in her trembling hand. Four small rectangles of paper, that seemed to have an extraordinary effect on her. She said nothing, but took them hurriedly over to her appointment book and shook her head. Most likely a mistress that Wilkes had paraded before her once and then told Mary it was over. Whatever it was, Mary seemed overwhelmed by their existence, she reached out for a chair and sat down weakly.
"Mary? What is it?"
"Oh William, I think I know why Fred won't tell us the alibi."
Mary took a deep breath as if gathering her thoughts and pulled the bell for the footman.
"I need to send some telegrams," she said. "One to Mr Marshall Hall to tell where to look. Another to the Moseleys, I can't have them dragged into this."
"Dragged into what, Mary?"
"You too, William," she said. "Once we return to London it is best to distance yourself from me."
"No," I said firmly.
"William, you have no idea.."
"It simply doesn't matter," I said. "Whatever the revelation, I am not a fair weather friend."
There was a shake of the head and a sigh, but she didn't seem to argue. She looked up at me, with all the beauty and resignation of Andromeda being sacrificed to placate Poseidon. I didn't know it then, but she had a terrible burden on her. Those four pieces of paper had revealed a far darker secret than I could ever imagine.
"Oh William, I know where Fred was, he didn't murder Daniel."
There was a smile that was quickly replaced with a look of pain.
"He'll be free," she said, almost in a whisper. "But I fear the truth will ruin me."