angry. Had he not given her the opportunity of her young life by introducing her to Pemberly? She was a common servant girl, and yet he had delivered her work into the hands of a publisher.
Well, not an established publisher…
…or even a successful one… yet.
But a publisher nonetheless.
Then he would remember the morning of Pemberly’s departure and groan inwardly.
Evan had woken that morning with a pounding headache. As the events of the night before came back to him like hazy memories of a dream, he was seized with both ecstasy and shame.
The ecstasy was understandable. For a moment he had held in his arms the woman he wanted more than any other. For a moment, he had everything that he wanted.
The shame was more complicated. Part of him was aghast that he had broken his rule. He had crossed the line he had drawn for himself, and almost taken the honor of a young woman who was under his protection.
He argued with himself that she was far less innocent than she seemed – but that did not invalidate his rule, nor excuse him breaking it.
But there was a shame that galled him on a deeper level. He had wanted her so badly – why had he not taken her? What man would look upon the gates of Paradise and then flee from them?
It was not as though he were forcing himself on her. She had welcomed – nay, enthusiastically returned his advances!
That part of him – the dark voice that sneered at his ‘honor,’ that berated his weakness – insisted that should he ever get the chance again, he must seize it. No more of this limp moralizing. He should take what he wanted, without remorse or indecision.
That part of him had grown louder in the passing weeks. At the same time, it had also become clear that Marian was consciously spurning him.
And he knew why. He had acted like a petrified schoolboy. He had behaved like a man no woman would ever want in her bed.
Evan had hoped that his dishonorable actions of the night before would recede into the distance, and that he would never have to be reminded of them again.
But then Marian appeared. When she did not pine like a lovelorn maiden, nor play along as though nothing had happened, but instead refused to even acknowledge his existence – that had mortified him further.
Then Pemberly had to the gall to utter the crudest of remarks – to not only insult her honor, but Evan’s as well!
But rather than be shocked and outraged, she had returned his vulgarity with one of her own! One that left no question how she viewed Evan: as a neutered, impotent eunuch.
Once again, the shame.
And the anger – at her, at Pemberly –
But mostly at himself.
She had thrust a mirror before him that revealed how she saw him. All his faults and insufficiencies were laid bare in its cruel reflection.
He knew, though, that Pemberly had meant his comments in jest.
She had not.
It still galled him.
The effrontery!
Even now, he returned from his daydreams to the real world and found his teeth set on edge.
He sighed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and forced Bucephalus onward.
A swim would do him good.
About a mile from the house was a pond. It sat at the edge of a deep woods where the men of the family had hunted for generations. The pond was about an acre in size, and unusually clear and deep. Evan and Andrew had spent many a boyhood summer day there swimming and play-fighting in its cool waters.
He wanted nothing more than to get away from the house, if only for a little while. The swelter of the heat was bad enough; the knowledge that Marian was somewhere within its walls, avoiding him, was even worse.
As his horse came around the edge of the woods and was about to break into the clearing where the pond lay, Evan heard splashing. He cursed silently. It was probably children from the neighboring farms and parcels of land his family owned. He could not very well bathe naked with a gaggle of children staring at him, and though the land was off-limits to them, he was not about
Well, not an established publisher…
…or even a successful one… yet.
But a publisher nonetheless.
Then he would remember the morning of Pemberly’s departure and groan inwardly.
Evan had woken that morning with a pounding headache. As the events of the night before came back to him like hazy memories of a dream, he was seized with both ecstasy and shame.
The ecstasy was understandable. For a moment he had held in his arms the woman he wanted more than any other. For a moment, he had everything that he wanted.
The shame was more complicated. Part of him was aghast that he had broken his rule. He had crossed the line he had drawn for himself, and almost taken the honor of a young woman who was under his protection.
He argued with himself that she was far less innocent than she seemed – but that did not invalidate his rule, nor excuse him breaking it.
But there was a shame that galled him on a deeper level. He had wanted her so badly – why had he not taken her? What man would look upon the gates of Paradise and then flee from them?
It was not as though he were forcing himself on her. She had welcomed – nay, enthusiastically returned his advances!
That part of him – the dark voice that sneered at his ‘honor,’ that berated his weakness – insisted that should he ever get the chance again, he must seize it. No more of this limp moralizing. He should take what he wanted, without remorse or indecision.
That part of him had grown louder in the passing weeks. At the same time, it had also become clear that Marian was consciously spurning him.
And he knew why. He had acted like a petrified schoolboy. He had behaved like a man no woman would ever want in her bed.
Evan had hoped that his dishonorable actions of the night before would recede into the distance, and that he would never have to be reminded of them again.
But then Marian appeared. When she did not pine like a lovelorn maiden, nor play along as though nothing had happened, but instead refused to even acknowledge his existence – that had mortified him further.
Then Pemberly had to the gall to utter the crudest of remarks – to not only insult her honor, but Evan’s as well!
But rather than be shocked and outraged, she had returned his vulgarity with one of her own! One that left no question how she viewed Evan: as a neutered, impotent eunuch.
Once again, the shame.
And the anger – at her, at Pemberly –
But mostly at himself.
She had thrust a mirror before him that revealed how she saw him. All his faults and insufficiencies were laid bare in its cruel reflection.
He knew, though, that Pemberly had meant his comments in jest.
She had not.
It still galled him.
The effrontery!
Even now, he returned from his daydreams to the real world and found his teeth set on edge.
He sighed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and forced Bucephalus onward.
A swim would do him good.
About a mile from the house was a pond. It sat at the edge of a deep woods where the men of the family had hunted for generations. The pond was about an acre in size, and unusually clear and deep. Evan and Andrew had spent many a boyhood summer day there swimming and play-fighting in its cool waters.
He wanted nothing more than to get away from the house, if only for a little while. The swelter of the heat was bad enough; the knowledge that Marian was somewhere within its walls, avoiding him, was even worse.
As his horse came around the edge of the woods and was about to break into the clearing where the pond lay, Evan heard splashing. He cursed silently. It was probably children from the neighboring farms and parcels of land his family owned. He could not very well bathe naked with a gaggle of children staring at him, and though the land was off-limits to them, he was not about
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