Page 73 of The Virgin Who Vindicated Lord Darlington
She turned it anyway, her gaze searching out the first line at the top.
My dear friend, it began, in the manner of a letter rather thana diary entry.
Entry dated October 1792.
My dear friend,
My heart, my sweet friend, is heavy today. The Marquess of Darlington has been found this morning, drowned at the bottom of Darlington Lake. Such a young, healthy man to have met such a sudden and tragic end. Nathanial’s brother has arrived from London, overwhelmed with shock and grief. I’ve never seen a man more devastated. Lady Leanora has been taken to her bed in hysterics…
Another tragedy at Darlington Castle, another sudden, unexpected death. If Cecilia believed in such things, she would have said the Marquesses of Darlington were cursed.
Then, several months later, in a muchdifferent tone:
Entry datedDecember 1792.
The most wonderful thing has happened! Gideon has asked me to marry him.
Cecilia flipped through until she arrived at a page dated in 1793, the last year of Cassandra Belmore’s life. She skimmed through the entries, pausing on one dated in March of that year.
Mydearest friend,
Never did I imagine I could be as happy as I am. Gideon has shown me such love, such affection, such tender care in these first months of our marriage, my heart, my body, and my soul are forever his…
Forever his. Cecilia’s gaze lingered on the wordforever, written in Cassandra’s elegant, flowing hand, her chest aching for the young lady who’d written that word with such happiness, such hope. In the end, forever had been an unbearably short time for the Marchionessof Darlington.
Six months after writing these words, she was dead.
But oh, how happy she’d been, in the brief time she’d been Gideon’s wife! His devotion to her was written into every entry, breathed into every line of those few short months. Every word Cassandra had written, every page of her diary swelled with love and adoration for her husband.
A love and adoration that was generously returned. Gideon had loved his wife. No one who read these pages could ever doubt it. His love for her was right there, page after page of it, in his late wife’s own words.
April 1793. My dear friend, such a delightful morning! Gideon has surprised me with a new rose garden on the south lawn. He calls it “Cassandra’s Rose Walk,” in my honor, he says, and there are ever so many of my favorite white rosesplanted there…
May 1793. My beloved friend, the most wonderful news! I am with child. My heart is overflowing with gratitude and joy, and Gideon is ecstatic…
June 1793. I woke this morning to Gideon’s lips pressed to my belly, a good morning kiss for ourchild, he says.
July 1793. Isabella’s birthday has arrived! She is two years old today. Gideon intends to give her the new foal as a birthday gift. He spoilsher dreadfully…
Cecilia couldn’t help but smile at the joy in Cassandra’s words, the love flowing from her pen, but it wasn’t long after this delighted entry that things tooka darker turn.
July 1793. Dreadfully ill today. Mrs. Briggs bids me not to fret, and says it means the baby is strong. Gideon ordered me to bed, and stayed with me untilI fell asleep.
July 1793. I remain ill. The sickness grows worse with each passing day.
August 1793. I am too weak to leave my bed. My stomach revolts against all food but broth, and a painful red rash has appeared around my mouth and on my hands…
And, only a week before Cassandra’s death, this final entry, written ina feeble hand.
September 1793. Gideon weeps, and begs me not to leave him…
Cecilia closed the diary, slid it under the coverlet, and pressed her damp cheek to her pillow. She’d opened it hoping it would soothe her to sleep, but her chest had been aching since she read thefirst passage.
She rolled onto her back and stared up at the darkened ceiling above, her fist resting on her forehead, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Gideon had never been in love with Lady Leanora. That was nothing but another ugly rumor invented by the gossips in Edenbridge. Cecilia was ashamed she’d ever believedit to be true.
What a terrible wrong she would have done him if she hadn’t read these pages, not to have read in Cassandra’s own words how much Gideon had loved her, only to lose her and their son less than a year intotheir marriage—
Cecilia went still, Cassandra’s written words circling through her head, then she jerked upright in the bed and snatched the diary out from under her pillow. She paged backward to reread the passages written near the time of Cassandra’s death, wondering if she’d misread the dates.
