Whitmore Estate – Morning
Mary dipped her pen slowly into the ink, heart pacing like a drum against her ribs. The morning light streamed through the curtains, gentle and gold, as if unaware of the fire building quietly inside her.
She began the letter with practiced grace, her hand steady despite the swirl of thoughts behind her eyes.
Dear Thomas,
Would you be so kind as to visit again, just for an afternoon?
There's something I need to ask of you—something I believe only you can help me with.
It's nothing improper, I assure you. Only a request of trust.
Yours,
Mary
Two Days Later
Thomas arrived just after lunch, his carriage wheels crunching over the gravel drive. Mary was waiting in the sitting room, her posture proper, her dress pale and simple. But her eyes flickered with something determined—an urgency she could no longer hide.
He entered with his usual quiet grace, smiling politely. "You called for me, Lady Mary?"
"Just Mary, please," she said, gesturing for him to sit.
He did.
There was a pause before she spoke, choosing her words carefully.
"I need to go to London."
Thomas blinked. "London?"
"Yes. Just for a day or two."
He tilted his head. "Whatever for?"
Mary lowered her gaze slightly. "An old friend—Lily, from my school days—she's fallen a bit ill. She's requested I visit… but my parents would never let me go alone."
Thomas was quiet. Thoughtful. "So… you want me to escort you?"
She looked up, her eyes sincere, almost pleading. "They'll only agree if you do. You're the only person they'd trust enough to take me."
"And… what does this Lily mean to you?"
Mary hesitated for just a second too long.
"She's someone I owe something to," she said softly. "Someone I need to see before it's too late."
Thomas leaned back slightly in the chair, studying her. He wasn't a fool—he could see the tension behind her polite tone, the tremble she was trying so hard to hide.
He nodded slowly.
"All right."
Mary blinked. "You'll take me?"
"I will," he said gently. "I don't know why you really need to go… but I can see that it matters to you."
Relief flooded her chest, almost bringing tears to her eyes. She managed a shaky smile.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Truly."
Thomas stood, hands resting lightly at his sides.
"I'll speak to your father. I'll tell him I've invited you to attend a concert and dinner with friends—my family would approve, I'm sure."
She smiled gratefully, voice still soft. "That would be perfect."
He looked at her a moment longer, then said with a quiet kindness, "You don't have to tell me everything, Mary. Just promise me you're not running from something that will hurt you later."
She paused, then shook her head.
"No," she said. "I'm running toward something."
And Thomas, despite not knowing what it was, smiled faintly and said:
"Then I'll drive the carriage myself."