Reckless (Mockingbird Square 4)

15

Monkstead Abbey, Leicestershire, England

Fifteen years earlier.

The church was almost empty, the number of guests sparse. No one spoke above a whisper and no one smiled.

His father stood tall and straight. He looked as grim as death, as if this were a funeral rather than a wedding. The sweet smell of flowers all around made Dominic feel sick, although that could be partly because of the amount of brandy he’d put away the night before. He and his father had sat in perfect silence in the library, downing glass after glass. When Dominic was almost too drunk to stand his father had placed a hand on his shoulder.

“This is the right thing to do, son,” he’d said.

Dominic hadn’t looked at him, but he’d known he had tears in his eyes. They both did.

Now he knew his bride was moving down the aisle toward him. Slowly, barely able to walk. When she reached him he didn’t turn to look at her. He stared straight ahead and listened as the words were spoken that would bind them together for eternity.

At the end, when he pushed the ring onto her finger, he did look at her. Her face behind the veil was not unattractive, but pasty and of ill health, and her eyes were large. They were fixed on his, unblinking, and for a long moment they stared at each other. They were two strangers being forced into this union by circumstances beyond their control. And for each, in their own way, it was a matter of survival.

He felt sorry for her, almost as sorry as he felt for himself.

“Are we married now?” she asked him in a soft voice that held a strange sweetness in it. “We are, aren’t we? Just like Prince Charming and Cinderella.”

“My dear,” her father murmured anxiously. “Hush now.”

“But, Father, I am married. You cannot tell me to hush. Only my husband can do that.”

She had beamed at Dominic as she said it, as if she was the happiest creature in the world.

Confused, Dominic turned to his new father-in-law, seeing the raw love and anguish on the man’s face. “She is a child,” he explained. “She does not understand. In her mind, this marriage is like a fairytale in a children’s storybook.”

Dominic turned back to his new wife and saw that it was the truth. She was still smiling, still happy, gazing up at him as if he was a hero rather than a young man forced into this dire situation and miserable about it. He tried to remove his hand from hers but she clung on.

“Will you tell me stories?” she asked him eagerly. “You have been out in the world and I have not. Will you tell me what you have seen?”

“I don’t think … I am not …”

She looked disappointed, as if she might argue, but her father led her away. There would be no wedding night, Dominic already knew that, and he was relieved. His bride was more child than woman, and the idea of consummating their marriage in the normal way made him feel ill.

Afterwards he got drunk again, and kept getting drunk for a whole week. After that, he decided he would put it all behind him, and he went out and found a willing woman and used her to blot out his misery. There were other women after that. Those he could use to fulfil his needs without concerning himself about emotions or expectations.

He earned himself quite a reputation for a while. He could pretend he was without encumbrance, a young gentleman like any other. And then his house of cards would all come crashing down.

It usually happened at a society event. He would be introduced to an unmarried lady. Pretty, smiling, obviously admiring of his looks and manners. And then he would overhear the mother saying to her debutante daughter, “That’s Monkstead, my love. Yes, I know he is very handsome, but you cannot have him. You must set your sights elsewhere. He is married already.”

It took him almost a year before he visited his wife. She had been writing to him, or at least it was her nurse who wrote the letters but the wording was hers. The main gist of her communications was for him to perform some task for her. Her life revolved around fairytales and she believed in witches and giants and princesses and handsome princes who would ride into danger to save the women they loved. Dominic soon discovered he had been allotted the role of the handsome prince.

Happy endings were something else his wife revelled in. Despite her ill health she was the most optimistic person he knew. Perhaps it was because of her childlike nature, but she saw the best in people. She saw the best in Dominic.

He found himself writing to her more and more often. He found himself smiling as he penned fantastical adventures. Unicorns galloping outside his house in Mockingbird Square, and dragons flying overhead. Never before had he been required to delve into his imagination quite like this and he found it stimulating. Pleasing his poor wife alleviated some of the misery of their marriage. Once, when he visited, he brought a pair of embroidered slippers that he claimed were magic and if she wore them when she slept they would carry her up to the stars.

Did they? She claimed they did. She wrote of her dreams of dancing among the stars and playing ball with the moon. She said she liked it so much that one day she may not return to her bed, but would remain in the sky and gaze down upon the earth. She said she would watch over him.

Her health worsened. They still exchanged letters but not as often, and then not at all. He missed her in a way he had never expected to when they were forced to marry. He carried on making happy endings even though he could no longer tell her about them. He liked to think that if she could talk to him as adult to adult, she would advise him, in her generous and cheerful way, to find his own happy ending.

The Hunting Lodge

Winter 1816

Dominic woke early, before dawn. He liked to sleep with his curtains open, so that he could see the lightening of the sky as the sun began to rise. Or tried to, because today it was trapped behind the snow clouds that covered the horizon.