Chapter Two
Edmund
S tanding in the middle of his bedchamber, Edmund gave an immense yawn and stretched his arms, arching his back. He then released his body with a mighty sigh.
Ah, but last night had been busy! Edmund had lost count of how many gatherings and parties he had been to, playing cards, flirting, dancing, and drinking. The fun went on till dawn. What a tremendous sendoff he and his friends had given to the Christmas season! And they had ended the celebrations in time-honored fashion by galloping round the city singing lustily before partaking of a quick, freezing swim in the River Avon.
Edmund walked over to the window and looked across to the trees at the top of Beechen Cliff. And who was that in the street below? Why, Lady Barrington and Mrs. Pembroke, if he was not very much mistaken. And that hellish creature, Nelson.
Pressing his nose to the glass, Edmund admired the red curls that were escaping around the brim of Marianne’s hat like fiery rays. She was a very handsome woman, no doubt about it, and would have no trouble finding a husband in Bath– but preferably one who did not live at Number 1 Royal Crescent.
There was a knock at the door. “Edmund? May I come in?”
“Of course, Mama– as long as you are not going to nag me. ”
“Edmund! I have no idea what you mean. I never nag, merely suggest improvements that would make you even happier with your life– and perhaps give you a sense of purpose.”
A sense of purpose? Who needs one of those?
“If you say so, Mama.”
Lady Templeton closed the door firmly behind her. “I know you are tired at the moment and hoping for a nap, but this cannot wait.”
Lord alive! The same tune from Mama gets mighty dull– and my poor head already has a megrim threatening.
“Now Edmund, we all know that Papa’s health episode this morning was not what we thought. However, he is not getting any younger and I would like him to be able to relax and enjoy what years he has left on this earth.”
How I long to lie down and close my eyes.
“He has the immense burden of running his estate to deal with– why, the volume of paperwork he undertakes daily in his study is horrendous, and then there are his frequent visits to Templeton Park and his other properties to oversee the staff and supervise their tasks.”
“But the staff are all trustworthy and capable, are they not? Why would they need to be supervised by Papa as well as by the steward?”
Lady Templeton smoothed her skirts briskly. “Really, there is so much that Papa must do that you know nothing of– mainly because you have taken pitifully little interest in what is, after all, your birthright. You have a duty to support your father in his endeavors now, just as you will have a duty to take on the full burden following his death.”
Lady Templeton held her head high as if declaiming to a public meeting, and Edmund took the chance to surreptitiously lie down on his bed. Ah! That was better– the softness of the pillow and the support of the mattress were heaven sent. As a young blade he had not felt this level of weariness, but now, at five and twenty, his body was reminding him that it was not designed to miss a whole night’s sleep without a little protest. The years were creeping along– perhaps his mama was right and ’twas time for a change? He did feel uncommonly jaded.
Edmund began to enter that blessed state of half sleep where one lingers between consciousness and oblivion.
“No, you shall not lie down, Edmund; you will stand when I address you– and pay attention!”
Edmund slunk from his bed with an ill-disguised pout. There were not many people in his life he would allow to chastise him, but he knew that his devoted mama loved him with a passion and wished only the best for him– even if she could be damned annoying on occasions.
“And this is not all I wish to talk to you about,” Lady Templeton continued. “’Tis one thing to leave your father to do all the work– that is bad enough– but you must fix your mind to the future of the Templetons. Think of your heirs– and their heirs. In short, ’tis high time you were married. This summer would be an excellent time for your wedding.”
“Mama! Do you wish me to marry the first young lady I see?”
“You did not marry the first young lady you saw,” Lady Templeton said, a little tartly in Edmund’s opinion. “You have been allowed much liberty in this matter, but now your thoughts should turn to matrimony.”
“I have not yet met a lady who is worthy to become the future Lady Templeton.”
Lady Templeton coughed delicately. “This is partly, dear Edmund, because you mix with the wrong ladies. From henceforth you will attend only respectable gatherings. I expect you to make an appearance at all the important events in the city for the rest of the season; that is the only surefire way for you to meet your future bride.”
Edmund gave a sharp intake of breath. How would he have time for his many leisure pursuits?
“You will not meet a potential bride in your clubs, nor when you gallop around the city in the early hours, or bathe in the moonlit river. You must see that.”
“But how the devil? Mama! Who could you have been talking to?”
“I have my sources.”
Is nothing private?
“How I wish I were an ordinary young gentleman, able to live an unobserved life,” Edmund said. “Many are the times I would gladly have changed places with my brother Henry, for to be the second son is a much more comfortable position.”
“I do not think poor Henry was in a comfortable position when he faced his enemies at Waterloo. Do you?”
Edmund hung his head. “I offer abject apologies, Mama; I spoke without thinking.”
“I accept your contrition– as you must accept your position in the family as the first-born son.” Lady Templeton’s eyes misted over. “My dear, sweet Edmund. What an adorable infant you were, and what joy your arrival into this world brought.” She reached up and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. “You have grown into an admirable young man, a son to be rightly proud of, and your papa and I love you with a light that will never diminish. But ’tis time for you to mature and fulfil your duty.”
Edmund nodded mutely. What else could he do?
“Now, what about a short nap? Then I will send your valet up to help you wash and dress. After that, my dear, you and I will make our way into Bath and see who is around. We will go for a walk.”
“A walk?”
This is not how I usually spend my time, walking with Mama.
“Yes,” Lady Templeton said. “There are myriad eligible young women in Bath, and many of them are doubtless promenading around the city as we speak, eager to meet you and your friends. You do not want to miss out, do you?”
“This sounds like rather a waste of time to me. Could I not wait and see if the perfect lady might spontaneously appear? ”
Edmund flung himself on his bed again, overcome with weariness.
“I believe what you describe as ‘the perfect lady’ has already appeared,” Lady Templeton said. “You met Mrs. Pembroke this morning. She is a most personable young woman, and one I would be proud to call a daughter-in-law. I do not think you will find anyone more suitable, however hard you look. But alas, you have made it plain that you have no wish to woo her; therefore we must start our search of Bath in earnest for your future bride.”
Edmund felt his heavy eyelids closing, then, as he began to drift off, he was conscious of his mama kissing his forehead and stroking his hair.
“My darling Edmund,” she whispered, “I am not doing this to be unkind. You can have no idea of the delights waiting ahead for you with a loyal wife beside you and children playing at your feet; you will be an exemplary husband and father. I know it.”
The last thing Edmund heard before he slept was the sound of the curtains being drawn.
His dreams were vivid– and punctuated by little snores and flashbacks to the previous evening. Ah, but the wine he and his friends had consumed! The parties they had visited, the women they had encountered, the card games they had played– and the feel of the chill river water upon their skin.
“Such good friends I have,” Edmund croaked.
Then he frowned, remembering how Forbes had mentioned this would be the last year of hell-raising for him as he would be getting married soon. Shortly after this revelation, Lymington said he was about to undertake some sort of gainful employment. Imagine! The group had been shocked to hear these two appalling pieces of news and had thoroughly drenched both men with river water as a punishment, to the merriment of all.
Edmund shuddered as he lay in a half sleep. He was still determined to put off for as long as possible the evil day when he would have to do some serious work. And as for marriage, why it simply did not bear thinking of.
And yet, would it not be sweet, as Mama said, to have my own children all around me and a loving wife at my side? I have felt a little envious of my dear brother Henry on occasions when I have visited him next door at Number 2, for as a second son he was able to marry for love– to join with his childhood sweetheart. He has never in his life been as happy as he is now, married to dear Kitty. And my niece, little Isabella, is such a diverting creature. I remember the first time I cradled her tiny body in my arms; her sweet trusting gaze awakened my protective paternal instinct.
Edmund turned onto his side. Maybe he would enjoy being married one day– but not yet, for he was still having too much of a good time.
What was this? A trick of the light? A single tiny ray of sunshine penetrated the gloom of his chamber, and through his half-closed lashes Edmund imagined he saw a tiny infant with blue Templeton eyes and a hint of reddish hair.
Edmund sat bolt upright and rubbed his eyes furiously to repel the disturbing vision.
“Are you awake?” his valet said as he finished drawing back the curtains to reveal the daylight. “Lady Templeton sent me upstairs to help you wash and dress.”
“The devil she did, Voyle! I have only been asleep for five minutes.”
Voyle smirked. “I believe you have been asleep a full half hour. Lady Templeton said she would like to see you downstairs as soon as possible.”
Edmund never stayed discontented for long, and with a grin, he swung his long legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and gave another enormous yawn. ’Twas amazing how restorative even a short sleep could be.
“Is that coffee I can smell?”
“Yes, sir. Lady Templeton asked the kitchen to make it double strength.”
“Good for Mama!”
“She said you were about to go for a walk.” Voyle raised an eyebrow.
“There is no need to be surprised. Mama is determined to seek out a suitable young bride for me– and we are to start today by parading through Bath. ’Tis her new campaign which she hopes will result in a victory– for her.”
“Very good, sir.”
Edmund bellowed with laughter. “You know full well this is not a good situation. I am relying on you, Voyle, to be my right hand man in the conflict ahead– for I am determined to hang onto my single life as long as possible.”
Voyle nodded. “I will do what I can, sir. And now, if you would allow me... ah yes, that’s it... I trust the water is warm enough? And shall I attempt the trone d’Amour? I feel that would be a fitting way to tie your cravat this morning.”
“No, Voyle! I cannot abide so much starch round my neck. And I will not wear a style that has amour in its name. Make it something more natural, for pity’s sake.”
“Very well, sir.”
Then Voyle combed Edmund’s hair into a windswept style and started to apply pomade.
“Enough!” Edmund pushed the fragrant potion away. “I do not want to look as if I am trying to attract the ladies– nor smell like a lemon grove.”
Voyle replaced the pomade on the dressing table and grimaced.
“What is it, man?” Edmund said. “You have something to say– I know it. Do not hold back; I will not be offended.”
“Well, with the greatest respect, I am worried about the battle ahead, for Lady Templeton is a skilled and practiced strategist.”
“Ah, I see your point. Mama possesses the same qualities as a top military general such as the Duke of Wellington himself. Tremendous energy, absolute focus– and a determination never to give up.”
“Indeed.” Voyle’s expression was grave. “To be blunt, sir, with Lady Templeton commanding the opposition, I do not altogether fancy your chances– and think you must prepare to surrender.”
*
Marianne
“Have you had enough tea, Marianne? And what about another of these?” Lady Barrington offered a plate of delicious pastries as the two ladies sat in the window of Hunter’s tea shop.
“Thank you, Aunt. You are spoiling me today.” Marianne accepted a fruit tart and then looked down at the three volumes of Pride and Prejudice on the table beside her. “I am most grateful for this gift.”
“You deserve to be spoilt, my dear, after all you have suffered. Now, can you squeeze in another pastry?”
“Thank you kindly, but if I consume any more, I will scarce be able to fit into any of my clothes. I am not accustomed to eating as much as I have of late.”
“’Twould do you good to put some meat on your bones,” Lady Barrington said, “and besides, your clothes not fitting is of no consequence, for I am about to revolutionize your wardrobe. All your previous clothes can be discarded. ’Tis time for you to cease concealing your beauty by hiding your light under a bushel. You must think of time’s wingèd chariot– as time and tide wait for no man– and you should, of course, gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”
Marianne felt laughter threatening to erupt; what an amazing blend of quotations– together with a host of mixed metaphors. ’Twas entertaining in the extreme.
“From henceforth, you will dress in a bright array of fabulous colors and sophisticated styles, not the ghastly grays and insipid lavenders of your provincial frocks. ’Tis time for you to shine like a diamond in the firmament of Bath.”
I know my aunt means well, but I still question whether ’tis too soon to change my apparel. Perchance I am not ready to cease mourning my Richard, and to release thoughts of the family I had dearly hoped for with him– but now will never enjoy.
“I, I rather like the subdued shades,” Marianne said.
“Stuff and nonsense! As I have said before, lavender does your complexion absolutely no favors. Your skin looks like chalk.”
Lady Barrington put her hand over Marianne’s. “I mention this for your own good, my dear, not to be unkind. I say! Is that not Lady Templeton passing by– with Mr. Templeton? I must say I am very surprised he is in the city, for I thought he would need a longer sleep.” She lifted her quizzing glass to her eye. “He still looks a little tired. What do you think, Marianne?”
Marianne glanced out of the window at the very moment Mr. Templeton was looking in, and their eyes locked together in such a startling way that Marianne felt quite faint. ’Twas as if a bolt of lightning had crashed through the window and ravaged her soul. She had only felt like this once before in her life.
Oh my! How impressive Mr. Templeton looks in his day dress. And the dangerous warmth in his eyes– that suave smile playing about his chiseled lips. I must be on my guard.
“He looks tolerably well, I suppose,” Marianne said, her heart quivering.
What a liar I have become!
“Ah, good,” Lady Barrington said. “They have seen us and are coming in. They shall sit at our table– I will brook no opposition.”
“But should we not be on our way to the dressmaker?”
“Madame Dubonnet will be pleased to see us at any time,” Lady Barrington declared. “Ah! Lady Templeton! How delightful to see you. Would you care to join us? We can recommend the pastries.”
Within minutes, all were sitting together at the table with a fresh pot of tea. Somehow, Lady Barrington had contrived that Edmund and Marianne were seated next to each other at one end of the table with Nelson at their feet, while she sat at the far end with Lady Templeton and engaged in a loud and animated discussion about the very poor weather that had been inflicted upon them in recent years.
“We had no summer to speak of last year,” Lady Barrington said.
“None at all,” Lady Templeton agreed.
“How I long for sunshine.”
“Ah, yes; I pin my hopes on better things to come this year.”
“In all sorts of ways!”
“It seems we must converse with one another,” Edmund said to Marianne, “unless you wish to chitchat about the wind and rain.”
Marianne grinned. “I am sure we can do better than that.”
She was acutely conscious of an appealingly fresh lemon fragrance emanating from Edmund. She was also only too aware of his magnificent body encased in tight pantaloons and a fitted jacket, for he was sitting so very, very close. The tea shop table and chairs were on the delicate side, and a tall, well-built gentleman such as Mr. Templeton would naturally find it tricky to contain his muscular legs under the table, but must out of necessity shift closer until his thighs were almost brushing hers.
Almost! Oh, how I miss the masculine touch– the comfort, the affection– and the passion.
Edmund leaned even closer to Marianne, and she felt his breath on her face, then Nelson growled from underneath the table.
“Do you want to have another go at my boots?” Edmund asked the dog. “Is that it? Go ahead, if it pleases you, but methinks you will find them tougher than my evening shoes.”
“Do not encourage him,” Marianne said. “He must learn how to behave.”
She cast a swift glance at Lady Barrington, who was now deep in conversation with Lady Templeton about the necessity of finding good domestic staff .
“I believe,” Marianne said to Edmund in a lowered voice, “that ’tis possible Nelson has been a little indulged in the past, and this may account for his slightly distrustful behavior on occasions.”
Edmund shook his head. “You need not apologize. I know Nelson is a sweet-tempered dog but, as incredible as it is to believe, he thoroughly disapproves of me.”
“’Tis quite incredible, as you say,” Marianne said with a laugh. “What do you think there is about your character that he might take exception to?”
“Why absolutely nothing. Nothing Nelson could possibly have any knowledge of, anyway.”
“You forget that Nelson saw you coming back from a night’s revelry in your evening dress. Perhaps he was jealous and would have liked to have been out on the town himself?”
“No, that cannot be it,” Edmund said, “for I know Nelson will have been the center of attention at Lady Barrington’s twelfth night party.”
“This is true. He spent most of the evening lying on his silk cushion in front of the fire being admired and petted by the guests.”
“That does sound an awfully pleasant way to spend an evening,” Edmund said. “Perchance I am the one who should feel jealous.”
He reached down to give the pug a gentle caress, but Nelson opened his jaw and Edmund quickly withdrew his hand. “I wish the little fellow wanted to be my friend. What can I do?”
“Try a small piece of pastry?”
Edmund broke off the edge of a tart and held it under the table. Nelson jabbed his head forward to snatch the tasty morsel and then licked his lips appreciatively.
“You can make him work harder for scraps,” Marianne suggested.
“Show me.”
Marianne held a tidbit just out of Nelson’s reach before commanding him to sit .
“Now, paw!” she commanded, and the animal lifted a tiny paw before Marianne allowed him to accept the morsel.
“You have a way of taming wild beasts that is most impressive,” Edmund murmured. “Would that there were someone prepared to take on the formidable task of civilizing me.”
Suddenly, to Marianne’s horror, she realized that Lady Templeton and Lady Barrington had stopped talking about their servants and were now whispering to each other and exchanging knowing looks.
I distinctly heard the words “wedding” and “this summer.” How shameful! Hunter’s tea shop is no better than a cattle market.
Marianne felt rage boiling up inside her.
Why does everyone think that the only way for me to live my life is within the bonds of matrimony? I am happy with my memories; they are all I need.
Edmund was pulling uncomfortably at the neck of his cravat– perhaps he thought a trap had been set for him?
Marianne clutched her reticule, pressing her trembling fingers against the fabric until she felt the reassuring presence of what lay therein.
“I think perhaps we must proceed with our errands this morning,” Lady Barrington said. “If you would excuse us, Lady Templeton?”
“Of course. We also have many things to do in the city, have we not, Edmund?”
Edmund flushed scarlet.
I wonder what they have planned for the day?
“We are due to visit Madame Dubonnet,” Lady Barrington said, “for Mrs. Pembroke has agreed to release herself from her mourning. We are going in search of new outfits– with plenty of color.”
What a shockingly personal thing to say! How can my aunt speak of these things in front of people I hardly know?
“And I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Mr. Templeton,” Lady Barrington said.
“Ah, yes, tea in the afternoon.” Edmund smiled. “I am looking forward to the event greatly. I believe you said you might also invite Selina and George?”
“Yes,” Lady Barrington said. “I have already sent a note round to Number 3 and am waiting on their reply. Ah, Marianne, do not forget your books. And it has been a pleasure, Lady Templeton, to discuss the many interests we have in common. Until tomorrow, then. Farewell!”
Did my aunt wink at Lady Templeton? Oh, the shame! I am seriously contemplating writing to Mama and Papa to ask them to allow me to return to Clifton at the earliest opportunity.
“’Tis not far to Milsom Street,” Lady Barrington said once they were outside again. “Come along now, Nelson. You know how pleased Madame Dubonnet always is to see you.”
I have to say something! I cannot let my aunt continue under the illusion that she is allowed to dress me up in finery and then auction me off to the highest bidder.
“Aunt,” Marianne began timidly. “I wonder if you realize, er, oh, I find this hard to say.”
“What, my dear? Please do not tell me again that you are perfectly happy wearing your grays and lavenders.”
“’Tis not about the color of my clothes. I wonder if you realize how much I do not want to marry again.”
“But this is absurd,” Lady Barrington said. “Every young lady wants to make a good marriage; we are nothing without men.”
“Would you have married again,” Marianne asked, “if your husband had died very early in your married life?”
“Yes! I would have needed to. But I was lucky; your uncle and I enjoyed many happy years of married life and produced four wondrous daughters.”
Ah, yes– my cousins Augusta, Amabella, Aurelia and Alicia– and all of them married last year. My aunt is a skilled match maker– and is looking for fresh employment.
“My dear,” Lady Barrington continued, “I think I can guess what is worrying you. Do you somehow feel disloyal to your Richard for wanting to marry again?”
“But I do not want to marry again.”
“Perhaps you are not quite ready? When you meet the right man, that feeling will soon dissipate.”
Marianne sighed. How could she explain that it was not simply a question of time?
“And what will you do if you do not marry?” Lady Barrington put her head on one side. “Need I remind you, Marianne, that given your parents’ financial situation, you need to make a good match.”
“I could become a governess. One of my school friends is a governess and writes to me saying how much she is enjoying it.”
“She must be deluded! Being a governess is not pleasant– ’tis a last resort for those without money.”
“I believe it can be a worthy occupation if one is fortunate enough to be placed in a good household.”
“I will not hear of it! No niece of mine is going to become a governess. You are going to marry, and marry well; that is an end to it. Ah! Here we are at Madame Dubonnet’s emporium. How beautifully she has dressed the window. Is there anything here that catches your eye before we go in? My word! Look at that beautiful tippet.”
Once inside Madame Dubonnet’s shop, Nelson became very excited and nibbled a few stray threads at the ends of some bolts of fabric before retiring to a corner to sit on a velvet cushion.
“Mrs. Pembroke,” Madame Dubonnet said, “welcome to my establishment! I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Lady Barrington ne’er spoke a truer word than when she described you as a veritable beauty.”
“She will look better once we get her out of these frightfully dreary colors,” Lady Barrington said. “What would you suggest?”
“Let me see.” Madame Dubonnet regarded Marianne closely. “I suggest Mrs. Pembroke inspects the array of fabrics we have here to see what attracts her. Perhaps the spring green silk might suit? And I think the Prussian blue velvet would be charming. What about this amber silk? I can see that you would dazzle in all the richer, warmer colors– and clear bright ones, too. Take your time! Let your eyes become accustomed to less somber shades. And once you have decided on the fabrics, we can discuss styles. I have all the latest illustrations and some samples, too. Does that sound agreeable?”
Marianne nodded– what else could she do?– and began walking down the aisles looking at the bolts of fabric and feeling the different textures between her fingers.
I have to say there are some dazzling colors here, and if the circumstances were different, I would thoroughly enjoy this treat. Ah! What a gorgeous crimson! Perhaps ’tis indeed time I was out of mourning? And this emerald green silk is sensational.
After perusing the fabrics and discussing styles with Madame Dubonnet, Marianne allowed herself to be measured. Then Madame Dubonnet and Lady Barrington made an extremely long list of all the new items she required, including undergarments.
In vain did Marianne protest that she had no need for such extensive purchases. One or two items would be hugely generous and welcome gifts, but a whole new wardrobe– was this not excessive?
“I have plenty of colorful gowns at home in Clifton,” Marianne said. “Perhaps I could ask Mama to send them?”
“But Marianne,” Lady Barrington said, “they were all made for you before the battle of Waterloo. They will be hopelessly out of date.”
Madame Dubonnet’s eyebrows shot up. She was evidently horrified to think someone would wear a gown from seasons ago– when they did not need to.
“’Tis such a waste,” Marianne said. “The gowns are perfectly serviceable.”
“Then your mama should pass them on to those in need,” Lady Barrington said. “You must understand that for all the events here in Bath, you will need to be fashionable– especially if you want to capture the heart of an eligible young man. ”
“I do not think men notice whether apparel is up-to-date or not,” Marianne murmured.
“ They may not,” Lady Barrington said, “but their mamas do. And the ton will judge you.”
Madame Dubonnet nodded vigorously.
“That is settled, then,” Lady Barrington said. “We will have everything on the list, please, Madame Dubonnet, as fast as you can supply it. Oh, and please add the ermine tippet displayed in the window.”
“Aunt!” Marianne exclaimed.
Such extravagance! But, oh, how beauteous the garment is.
“You need to keep warm, my dear,” was Lady Barrington’s answer.
“An inspired choice,” Madame Dubonnet said with a very wide smile. “We will get to work straight away, Lady Barrington, but if ’tis not impertinent of me, I have an additional suggestion.”
“Yes? Pray continue.”
“It came to me when you said you wanted the items as soon as possible. I happen to have here in the shop a beautiful cerulean blue gown that has already been cut out and partly constructed for a young lady who then unaccountably changed her mind. The young lady is of a similar build to Mrs. Pembroke– and I wondered if you would like me to include this frock in your order.”
“Could it be finished by tomorrow,” Lady Barrington asked, “in time for my tea party?”
“Certainly! My seamstress will work tirelessly until it is finished.”
“Outstanding news! Please proceed. And send the tippet with the gown, if you will.”
“Perfect! I will deliver it early tomorrow morning without fail. And if I might ask Mrs. Pembroke to try the half-constructed gown on for minor adjustments?”
Marianne nodded mutely.
“This way, if you please, Mrs. Pembroke. Now, if you could wait a minute while I fetch my best seamstress, we will do the final measurements and fitting.”
Marianne found herself alone behind the privacy of a curtain for a blessed few minutes. Reaching into the leather pouch inside her reticule, she pulled out a tiny miniature and kissed the sweet representation of a tiny red-headed infant before returning it to its home.
Richard had known of her pregnancy before he had set off for Waterloo and had been thrilled at their good fortune so early in their marriage. A talented amateur artist, he had endeavored to portray what he thought their child might look like, and had given the miniature to Marianne on the very day he had departed for the Continent.
“If I do not return, my love,” he had said, “you will have this picture to give our child. They will know how much I loved them before they were born– and how much I love them still from a better place.”
Marianne felt the familiar pain piercing her heart– for not only had she lost her dear husband during the summer of 1815, but also, shortly after hearing the news, her unborn child.
I can never face such a loss again. How I wish I felt differently– but I cannot find the strength. Am I fated to be trapped in this unbearable situation forever?
*