Dear Lord Wakefield,
I wish this short missive finds you well.
You may perhaps find this letter quite odd, but I must do this in my desperate attempts to find what I am looking for.
Have you, by any chance, seen a black cat prowling around your estate?
Sorry to have bothered you,
Lady Weis
*****
Margaret was no stranger to Wakefield. As the eldest amongst the Everard sisters, and closer in age to her older brothers, Wakefield had had the honour to know her. He even had the chance to dance with the woman before.
But he must also admit that the woman was no like any others. Her presence emitted something strong and mysterious. Her eyes had always had a knowing and curious look about them. And if she was staring at someone like she was doing now, with utter determination and confidence, it could be quite unnerving.
"Good evening, Lord Bertram," she said to Thomas, giving the man a curt nod. "Would you be so kind as to provide my husband company outside? I believe he is quite cross that I had to drag him along at such an hour."
Thomas immediately moved and although Wakefield never asked for his brother's help, he had the sudden instinct to grab Thomas' arm and beg him to stay.
But he stopped himself for it would be quite pathetic.
Margaret simply stared at him while Thomas exited the room. Once his brother had firmly closed the door, Margaret moved and without waiting for an offer, sat on the chaise.
"Fret not, my lord," she said when Wakefield took a hesitant step. "I am not my brothers. I am here as a woman and I do not yearn for blood be spilled."
He knew he ought to feel relieved, but it merely made him even more anxious. He was inclined to believe that a good beating would be less worrisome than a talk with Margaret Everard.
He came to sit back on his chair across from Margaret.
She gave him a level look. "The past few days had been difficult for us all, as you may have noticed," she started.
Wakefield swallowed with guilt.
"But I do admit that I have been amongst those who never believed Ysabella's feelings toward you."
His eyes widened with surprise.
Margaret's eyes filled with tears. "And it pains me to think that I believed it for years. She had always been a baby sister in my eyes. I ought to have realized that she was capable of growing up, that she is capable of a mature mind." She managed a bitter smile. "I believe we have all sinned against her in this regard."
His jaw tightened. Having to be reminded of how he had treated Ysabella was not fun at all.
"I am saying these things for I wish you to know that I do understand why you felt you had to stay away from her and break her heart countless of times, although unintentionally. She was merely eighteen when she made a vow to make you her husband. She had chased you around in naught but ballrooms and social events, but nothing further than that—until of late, of course when she had to be quite aggressive." She wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek. "Little did we all know that she had been seeing you for the real man that you are, that she had other means to be closer to you, thus proving her love to be true."
He nodded. "As Lady Weis."
Margaret smiled. "When did you realize?"
"Just this morning," he bit out with bitterness. "And I have been a fool to have not seen—"
"No, my lord," she interjected, "we have all been a fool. None of the Everards took her affections for you seriously until the truth was revealed. I knew of the first time she wrote to you and she had led us all to believe that she had stopped the correspondence. I was in Ashmore when I read about Lady Weis in the letters and even until then, I thought she had been such a child to have continued her foolishness."
"I should have recognized her the very moment I saw the real her," he choked out.
"But you merely knew her as your friend's sister, a child who chased you from one ball to another. Whoever you knew from those letters could not be Lady Weis for your mind has created a different picture. Your imagination limited you to not see Lady Weis in someone else." Her smile turned gentle, even pitiful. "Trust me when I say that first impressions are stronger, my lord. Your mind would always refuse facts and evidence because they do not match what you have already convinced yourself to think of, which is why most of us are not Leaguers or Town Guards." Her lips twitched at her own words.
But Wakefield refused to free himself from the guilt. He ought to have realized it. Margaret saw his struggle and sighed.
"A man who believes he has been eating an apple every day for years would never believe someone who comes to him with a claim he had been eating oranges all this time instead. Such was your case with my sister. Add to the fact that you have always been concerned about the years between you and her being Levi's sister, you have convinced your mind that she was no other than Ysabella Everard, the child and that she could not be someone else, especially the perfect Lady Weis who has been your friend and companion in letters for years."
Silence reigned between them for quite some time. Wakefield frowned at Margaret. "I was not expecting you to come here and utter such words, my lady."
"I was, as a matter of fact, been debating whether or not I ought to use a pistol or a sword, but my husband can be quite convincing," she said in jest. "Now that you know she has been telling the truth, my lord, I wish to know of your plans."
"I will marry her," he immediately uttered without thinking.
Margaret Everard cocked her brow. "Do you love her?"
"Of course I do. I do more than anything else. More than I ever loved her through her letters."
As if it was answer enough, Margaret sighed with relief. "Good. I was afraid you would act like a fool as Levi did a long time ago and deny your feelings."
She stood up, ready to leave. Wakefield jumped to his feet.
"Tell her," she ordered in a stern voice.
"I already did. She would not believe me."
"That is what I hate the most. She is torn between being Ysabella Everard and Lady Weis and it is confusing her as well. She can be stubborn as a child and she had lately let that, along with her pride, complicate matters. She may claim that she does not wish to be identified only as Lady Weis, but I know that she wishes for you to recognize it as well. She might have gotten lost along the way, and I hope you make her remember who she was before all of this. And do make certain, my lord, that she believes you believe her."
"I am such a blind fool to have missed the fact. I understand that now."
"Yes, I must agree, but we have all been blind fools where Ysabella is concerned. It is nearly too late when we all started to realize that she had grown up before our very eyes, is it not?" Margaret uttered with bitterness. She lifted her chin to stare at him with confidence. "Now, be a man and fawn at her feet if need be. Do it fast, my lord, for she is leaving soon."
He straightened in alarm. "Leaving?"
Margaret nodded. "I fear she has not merely given up on you, William, but on herself as well. And I do not intend to stop her from leaving for I, too, wishes for her to reclaim her old self."
Wakefield went cold.
Margaret walked to the door. "Your butler has informed me that your mother has arrived to put some sense into you. I believe you have finally had someone to talk with? Someone had told me you needed someone to be with you and I am glad your family is here."
"She berated me more than offered advice, my lady," he said with a groan.
Margaret laughed. "Read between the scolding words then," she said between chuckles, "they can be quite helpful. That is how family do it best." She paused at opening the door. "By the by, William, I believe you have figured out the true culprit of the letters?"
"Yes."
"Good. I need no longer ask what you intend to do with her for I trust your judgement. For now, do what you must."
When she pulled the door open, Wakefield asked, "When is she leaving?"
"Nearly two hours from now." She looked over her shoulder at him. "She is taking the carriage. Benedict is staying here until Agatha gives birth. I believe Ralph, who is to take her to Devonshire, shall be delayed by a good friend," she added with a wink.
Wakefield's heart swelled. "Thank you," he choked out.
"Do not thank me yet, my lord. You still have to face her."
With those simple yet heavy words, Margaret walked out of the room as silently as she came.
Moments later, Thomas entered the drawing room wearing a mocking, curious grin.
"Before you prepare yourself for a chase, I believe you ought to see this," his brother said, showing him a box. When he simply stared at it, Thomas sighed. "Someone sent this while you were having a nice chat with Lady Devitt." Wakefield reached for the box. "I believe an Everard footman delivered it. Them Everards seem to be in quite a rush, are they not? Calling at such a late hour and making rushed deliveries."
Ignoring his brother's sardonically amused voice, Wakefield opened the box and his heart began to pound.
Inside was the very same mask he saw Lady Weis wear at the Cinderella ball. With shaking hands, he picked up the small note on top of it.
"I am inclined to believe it is supposed to represent something for I fear the thought of you wearing it quite repulsive," Thomas was saying but Wakefield had stopped listening, the loud beating of his heart louder now.
His eyes read the short message written on the note over and over again.
His eyes studied the white mask one more time, the sapphire stones glinting against the light of the drawing room. The empty spot where the stone must have been was there.
"You look as though you are about to faint," Thomas uttered.
Wakefield turned and started for the door. "I must go."
"Now?"
"Morris! My horse!" he shouted instead. "Dare not stop me, Thomas," he added over his shoulder.
His brother scoffed and held up both hands. "I never intended to."
As Wakefield waited for his horse outside the manor, he read the note again.
I swear I pray I am not committing a sin, but may this be proof enough. Do not tell my sister for I believe she is being quite a fool to herself.
A lady who hopes to see you alive soon,
Emma Everard
PS. Stop being a fool yourself.
Wakefield sighed. "I need no more proof," he muttered under his breath.
*****
Ralph had been quiet since he came down, all dressed and ready to take her to Devonshire. She had caught him many times staring at her with confusion.
"I have already sent word to Devonshire regarding your arrival," Benedict was saying, his expression unreadable. The talk he had with their mother might have saved them from a lot of trouble for Benedict had never once more broached the subject of Wakefield or Lady Weis.
When Ysabella nodded, her brother gently said, "No one is forcing you go to, Ysabella. You can stay here in Wickhurst."
"I know, brother," she said with a smile. She looked over at Ralph. "Are you quite ready?"
"Have you said goodbye to Mother?" Nicholas asked.
"Last night. I hate to wake her at such hour."
Emma came bounding down the stairs, "Ben, Agatha is looking for you."
Their eldest brother jumped to his feet in alarm. He gave Ysabella's head a quick ruffle before he turned to run up the stairs with Emma. Her sister looked over her shoulder, saying, "You know I do hate goodbyes, Ysa, but I am certain I shall see you sooner!"
Ysabella blinked in confusion as her sister sent her a wink.
Maxwell was frowning as well, eyes still following Emma and Benedict.
"We can still bring out the pistols, Ysa," Nicholas offered in jest.
She rolled her eyes.
"But to be honest, sister, this is not you to go and escape," Ralph stated.
"Could a lady not yearn for some peace?" was her retort.
"Wakefield might be a total fool, Ysabella," Maxwell said, surprising her with his serious tone, "but he also does love like one." Her brother patted her cheek. "And a man who can be a fool for love is worth another chance."
Nicholas and Ralph stood gaping at Maxwell, so did Ysabella.
He glared at Nicholas and Ralph. "I am not saying I am willing to be one, you bastards," he droned, his bored, cynical tone returning. "Now, what say you to a glass of brandy, Nick?" he asked.
Nicholas started to shake his head. "I don't think—"
"Ah, but I want one," Maxwell said, pushing Nicholas to the direction of the parlour.
"Take care of her, Ralph. You are not a Guard for nothing," Nicholas uttered before he was shoved into the parlour by an impatient Maxwell.
Ysabella turned to Ralph. "Well? Are you quite ready?"
Her brother stared at her. "I am serious, Ysa. If any part of you thinks staying is for the better, I will not stop you. I may not say this often, but I do love you more than I love the thought of beating the soul out of Wakefield. Assuring your happiness is greater than any of my desires at the moments."
Her eyes watered and without warning Ysabella flung her arms around her brother's neck.
"Ah, Ysa, let go of me at once," Ralph said but did not push her away. "I am warning you, let go of me—"
"I do love you, too, brother," she said with a laugh, jumping away from him. "Now I am quite ready to go."
"But I said—"
"I know, but I still wish to go."
He frowned. "This is not a part of a ploy to trap Wakefield, is it?"
She burst out laughing. "No. Well, mayhap a tiny bit yes, but no, truly, I simply wish to have some quiet to gather my thoughts back together."
Ralph groaned in frustration. "I am constantly in awe by how complex women's brain is."
"Cannot handle the drama, eh?" Ysabella asked.
Ralph rolled his eyes and offered his arm. "Are you ready?"
She nodded and looped her arm around his.
They started for the door but were stopped by the sound of a horse bounding toward them.
Frowning, Ralph glared at the surprise visitor. "What the bloody hell are you doing here, Samuel?"
Samuel jumped from his horse. "I was—well, could I—Are you going somewhere?" he asked when he saw the carriage.
"Apparently, as you can see, yes," Ralph snapped at her friend. "Now, answer my question. Why are you here?"
Samuel scratched his head with a wince. "I was at Grey's and I ran short of money. Could you spare me some? I lost a couple of card games, see?"
Ysabella rolled her eyes, letting go of Ralph. "Ah, men!" she said, shaking her head. "I will be waiting in the carriage."
Ralph was frowning at his friend. "Why would I lend you some, you bastard? Go home and get—"
"My mother is currently in my estate for a visit. I would not be able to escape in time to save my arse from a duel! Leander, that bastard, is demanding for his win as we speak!"
Ralph let out a frustrated sigh before he sharply turned around to walk back into the estate.
"Do make it quick!" Ysabella shouted through the window of the carriage.
Samuel gave her a suspiciously wicked grin before he bounded up the stairs to run after her brother.
Ysabella sighed and tried to be patient, leaning against her seat. She closed her eyes and wondered if she was indeed doing the proper thing.
Ah, the very fact that she was questioning her decision should be enough to convince her that she needed to get away. She no longer knew what she truly wanted. She had thought she did, but the recent events merely caused her to be irrational.
She had to get over the pain of losing Aurora, to have more time to understand why her friend would do such an act. And much more so, she needed time to come to terms with what she truly wanted.
Should Wakefield come after her, then she would face him. If not, then she would accept it.
But for now, she—
Did she truly want him to go after her?
For the first time, she allowed her mind to set aside Lady Weis and what Aurora had done and let herself think back to how it all began.
It had been quite simple. She fancied him and grew to love him.
I am in love with you, irrevocably and desperately so...
She had made him fall in love with her. It was the simple thing she had ever wanted.
Yet she had demanded more from him when all she wanted was to make him see her as Ysabella Everard. She never once tried to see things through his eyes. She had been quite selfish, thinking only of herself, of her goals. She must have understood him better. She had not been Lady Weis for nothing. She ought to have understood his fears yet she chose not to for she had let herself be guided by her emotions and selfish desires.
"Ah, bloody hell," she groaned in frustration. It was simple! She loved him and he loved her!
She heard the carriage door open and close. Ralph knocked on the carriage ceiling and the carriage started to move.
She began to feel a sense of panic.
"Ralph," she said, opening her eyes, "I know you might throttle me for this, but I think I have changed—"
Her eyes widened when she saw Wakefield grinning across from her.