Last Illusions

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"Lady Beatrice, what has she told you about her life in Scotland?"

Now it was the lady's turn to be surprised.

"Nothing much, really, now that I think of it. Whenever she visited, once or twice a year, she seemed content enough. I know she did not have much, so I spoiled her in any way I could, bought her books and pretty dresses, although she seemed to care for the books much more than for the dresses."

"She wouldn't have much use for them," he said gloomily, remembering the conditions she had to live in.

"There are balls held in Scotland as well, dinner parties, official functions", Lady Beatrice protested.

"Have you ever been there, at the estate in Scotland, have you ever seen how she lives?"

"I was there regularly before she was born, her parents were friends of mine you see, that's how I came to be her Godmother. But since then, only once or twice when she was still little but as soon as she was old enough, MacArthur thought it better for her to visit me in Yorkshire."

"So you didn't see it recently."

"No. Mr. Brandon, what is it you want to tell me?"

He took a deep breath.

He shouldn't tell her this.

He had promised Marianne not to tell anyone.

But if Marianne would be so foolish as to say 'no', this lady would probably be the only one able to help her.

"I was there in March. She had requested to get to know me before the wedding. The estate is in ruins, the roof barely holding, the garden completely overgrown. When I was there they had hired a housekeeper, to be able to keep up with the bare minimum of hospitality, but she did not know her way around the house, and they had just enough coals to keep a fire going in some of the rooms for two weeks. I walked around in the village a bit, listened in on conversations, talked to some people and found out that most of the time, she lives there on her own, works late at her uncle's barrister's office, then is left with the upkeep of the house."

Lady Beatrice had paled a little more with each sentence.

Now she muttered, more to herself than to him: "Oh my, I had no idea,..."

"But the worst part is, her uncle mistreats her physically. Whenever there was even the slightest sign of me disapproving of anything she said or did, she flinched as if she expected being hit."

Lady Beatrice reached for her cup of tea, but her hand was shaking now and she hardly managed to take a sip.

A long silence followed, as he waited patiently for her to regain composure.

Then she seemed to have found her voice again, albeit shaky, and asked: "Are you sure? Those are grave accusations. She never said anything the like to me."

"She did not want to tell me either, Mylady, but it is my career to read people and environments in order to decide on strategy - and when I confronted her with what I had seen and heard, she confirmed it. Hell, even yesterday, when she had every reason to be angry with me, she lashed out at Bess instead, probably afraid to anger me in any way..."

"And who guarantees me she shouldn't be? You will be angry with her, frustrated with your life, marriage does that even to the happiest of love matches..."

"I would never take out my anger on her. Ask Bess. In all the years I've known her, of course at times she irritated me to no end. I was terribly jealous simply because she had parents who cared for her so deeply, and then she'd complain about them and I wanted to just shake her and tell her how damn lucky she was to have them. But I never did."

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