Edinburgh, United Kingdom
May 1852

Summer was fast approaching in the south of Scotland. The grass was greener, the sky was brighter, and the heavy cold of the preceding winter had long since melted away, revealing a pleasantly warm country. Of all the people in Edinburgh, none were more appreciative of this weather than Harry, for nearly every day that the rains held off and he was not detained by work, he took the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors as he had the summer before in London.

Saddling one of Thomas's horses and promising to return for dinner, Harry rode into the streets that had become so familiar to him. At first, he went on at a slow pace because of the crowds, but as he pressed on towards the outskirts of the city, he was able to take up an accelerated speed. The early summer breeze swept through his long curls, which oftentimes fell in front of his eyes and temporarily blinded him to the path before him. He silently cursed to himself for not tying his hair back as he had meant to, but he made no effort to stop and fix it. His hair had grown quite song since coming to Scotland, and for some reason, Harry couldn't quite bring himself to cut it yet.

As he broke through the city limits and rode towards Arthur's Seat, which was a cliff that looked down upon the city and the surrounding lands, Harry felt a sense of easiness settle over him. Working alongside Thomas in the last months had been exceedingly educational to him, far more educational than he ever could have hoped for, but agreeing to undertake much of Thomas's work had taken its toll on him. He was exhausted, and his mind was muddled by the piles and piles of contracts that so often littered his desk. Aside from sleep and the occasional stroll outside, Harry had very little time to himself, so these moments alone in the splendor of the world around him did a great deal to bring him peace.

But the journey up the mountain was not an easy one, because the higher Harry went, the more of the path did he have to take on foot. By the time he reached the top, sweat had gathered at the nape of his neck and begun to trickle down his back, dampening his hair as well as his linen shirt. Harry promptly tossed the soiled garment to the side and took a seat by the cliff's edge, where he was able to look out over the city of Edinburgh below. The breeze atop the mountain rolled softly over his warm skin and through his hair, which he now had tied back out of his face. He did not smile, but nonetheless, Harry felt far happier than he had in quite some time. He had missed the warmth of summer, and now that it was here, Harry for some reason could not help but feel somewhat hopeful.

It was a melancholy feeling that arose within him that day, like he knew he wasn't meant to be enjoying himself in any capacity, but at the same time, Harry could not resist the warmth that began to penetrate his hardened demeanor. How could he not soften in the presence of the rolling green hills below, and how could he possibly hold on to his misery when the nature about him encouraged him to release it? With each windswept blade of grass and every songbird singing in light of the coming summer, Harry had no choice but to give way to the delight he found in the world.

It was an odd and conflicting feeling that seized hold of him out in the country, but Harry was not given the courtesy of blindness to it. He knew that the reason for his apprehension to embrace any feeling of joy lie in his guilt upon doing so. How could he possibly justify feeling any shred of happiness when he knew the love of his life likely wouldn't feel it ever again? It was selfish of him to feel the freedom of happiness, and given his own hand in sealing Jane's fate, Harry felt that he, of all men, was the least deserving of the gift that nature had given him.

In the last month, Harry's rational thought had slowly been given back to him. The more he worked alongside Thomas, the more he realized that he had been foolish to blame him for he and Jane's separation. His circumstances were impossible to escape or negotiate, and from the start, there was none to blame but Henry Pelham and his wicked witch of a wife. The realization shamed Harry, for the more he came to see who really held the fault, the more he had to acknowledge that in blaming Thomas, he had been acting in response to his emotional pain rather than any form of logical rationality.

Thomas was just as broken up by Jane's fate as Harry was, if not more so, only he had the advantage of being able to conceal and control his emotion in regard to it. It was an old, familiar practice for him, whereas Harry was new to the trade, and for that reason, it took him quite a while to accept what had happened in a mature and logical fashion. He still didn't like to think of Jane if he could help it, which was why Harry enjoyed the work he was doing by Thomas's side. The business of his new life gave Harry a distraction that he embraced fully, hoping that it would help him to get on with his life without Jane. It was a horrid thing to have to live without her, but it was something that he knew he must do.

Only now, on the edge of Arthur's Seat, Harry could not help the thoughts of Jane that had arisen in his mind. She would have loved this place, he thought to himself. She would have delighted in the journey through the city, and she would have cherished the scene that lay before him in her memory. Harry tried to imagine her there with him, smiling softly as her golden hair danced in the breeze, but the more he thought of the joy they both could have had if she were there with him, the heavier his heart became. He couldn't picture her face anymore. With crystal blue eyes and full lips, complete clarity of Jane's image evaded him until his head began to throb. Was he really so far removed from her that he could not remember what she looked like?

Troubled by his failing memory, Harry shut his eyes and laid back in grass that prickled at his bare skin. His mind raced with thoughts of Jane, once again musing about her and what she would say to him if she were there with him; but as time passed beneath the light of the baking sun, Harry found his mind beginning to slow. His eyes grew heavier, sleep overcame him, and as it did, he did not fight it. The darkness would serve to distract him from the reality that Jane was slipping away from the one place he thought she would never leave.

Some time passed in this way, the sun slowly making its arch across the sky as Harry slept. But a sunny day in Edinburgh was a rare and often truncated thing, for as the sun began to set, so too did the clouds return to their place above. The temperature dropped, not drastically, but enough to bring Harry from his rest with a shiver. When he awoke, he realized that he must have been gone for several hours and that Thomas was likely looking for him. He frowned to himself upon having to return to town, but nonetheless readied himself and made the short walk to the tree where his horse was tethered.

It did not take Harry too long to find his way down the mountain, nor did it take too long for him to navigate the city. He would arrive just before dinner, which meant that he really had no time to clean himself up from his outing. Thomas wouldn't care though, and so Harry did not fret over it. Their meals together were casual, and chances were that Thomas would be glad he had gone out for the afternoon, since he was always encouraging Harry to leave some time for himself amidst his work.

However, all thoughts of dinner quickly retreated when Harry returned to the Mercier house in Edinburgh. After grooming his horse and making his way to the dining room, Harry was confused by the lack of food and servants there. Of all his time there, dinner was always at the same time, regardless of whether he was there or not, so Harry knew something out of the ordinary must have happened for everyone to be absent. Confused, Harry left the dining room and went to search the upstairs in hopes of finding out what the delay was; only, when he arrived, he was faced with a scene that left him more surprised than ever.

Harry found Thomas in his chambers, distractedly shoving a whole mess of clothes into a chest for travel, which immediately struck Harry as odd. Nonetheless, he did not show his confusion; instead, after knocking reluctantly on the doorframe, Harry casually leant against the wall and asked, "Are you going somewhere?"

At the sound of Harry's voice behind him, Thomas spun around with a wild look in his eyes, ignoring Harry's question and asking his own.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you for hours."

Harry sighed, "I went to Arthur's Seat and took a nap."

"Right," Thomas said restlessly, clearly containing some kind of exciting news that piqued Harry's curiosity. "That would explain the sunburn."

Frowning, Harry reached up and touched his nose, hoping that his skin wasn't still hot, but it seemed that luck was not in his favor. Shrugging it off, Harry nodded toward Thomas's trunk and again asked him what he was doing.

At this, Thomas's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he turned his back on Harry to search the surface of the small writing desk near the window.

"I received this letter today," Thomas said, taking up the aforementioned letter and turning to face Harry. He held it with both hands as if it were something precious to him, staring down at it with a troubled expression. "The means by which our release was accomplished are a mystery to me, but Harry, we don't have to stay here anymore."

Harry stiffened in the doorway, his eyes fixating on the small envelope in his friend's hands. Thomas didn't mean what he thought he did, did he?

"What do you mean? Did Henry write to you?"

"Yes and no." Thomas frowned uneasily and held out the letter to Harry. "He wrote part of it, but the majority was written by another."

Anxious and somewhat entertaining the hope that Jane had been allowed to write to them, Harry stepped towards Thomas and promptly took the letter from his hand. Because of his eagerness to read the contents, Harry struggled to fish the papers out from the envelope, but as soon as he managed it, he unfolded the papers and audibly gasped. It was not Henry's hand, as he had expected, nor was it Jane's, as he had hoped; but it was nonetheless the handwriting of someone he recognized immediately.

Hatred began to bubble up in the pit of Harry's stomach as he tried to come to terms with the fact that of all the people in the world that could have written to them, it just had to be James. He half-didn't even want to read the letter at all on account of its author; however, because Thomas seemed to think that James had given them their liberation, Harry reluctantly began to read.

The writing was just as sloppy as he remembered it, which Harry owed to James's refusal to learn differently, but regardless, James's point was clear. It read:

3 May 1852
Monsieur Mercier,

Forgive me for my informality, but I wish to be forward with you as I have recently learned of your relation to my wife Jane. She has told me of your misfortunes, and I can see that she misses you terribly. It is for these reasons that I would like to extend to you an invitation to visit us in London at your soonest convenience.

Jane is unaware that I have written to you, so if you should decline, she need never know; however, should you accept, I will meet you at King's Cross and take you to her. Please inform me of when you intend to arrive.

You have my sympathy, monsieur.

James Hale
Duke of Devonshire

Harry frowned as he finished James's bit of the letter, confused as to why he should ever try to serve someone other than himself. However, it really did seem as if James was reaching out to Thomas as an act of kindness towards Jane. Harry felt uneasy about this, but supposed that for this one thing, he could not fault his old friend. Jane would surely be pleased to see her father, and she would be even more pleased by the fact that her husband had arranged it himself.

Perhaps that was why James's letter sat uneasy with Harry. In writing to Thomas, whether he meant to or not, James had done something for Jane that would undoubtedly endear him to her, and that was something that Harry did not wish to think of. He did not know the nature of Jane's marriage, but this letter indicated that it was far more amicable than he had imagined, and though he wished only the best for Jane, he could not help the jealousy that had arisen in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her being happy with someone other than him. It was selfish of him, he knew that, but still, he could not help it when James was the last person in the world he could stand to see taking his place by Jane's side.

Nonetheless, his desire for Jane's happiness outweighed his jealousy, and so Harry continued to read, though this time with even more apprehension than the first. Harry dreaded reading anything from Henry Pelham, but given by the smile in Thomas's eyes, he supposed this portion would not come as a surprise to him. It would tell them that because of James's new involvement in their predicament, they would be allowed to leave Edinburgh and move on with their lives like they had agreed upon in January.

It read:

Gentlemen,
Your time has come. Remember your promises, and I will remember mine. Thomas, I suppose I will see you soon, and Harry, be wary of how you proceed. I will be paying close attention.

Henry Pelham
Duke of Newcastle Under the Tyne

The ominousness with which Henry had addressed him made Harry exceedingly nervous. Whether he meant to observe him in regards to his pursuit of Jane or in regards to his business endeavors, Harry did not know, but regardless, the message was clear. If he crossed the Pelhams in any way, he would very well pay for it.

"How could I have gotten myself into this mess?" Harry asked himself silently, rereading Henry's short note for a second time. Thomas was getting exactly what he wanted all along while Harry was denied the one true desire of his heart and essentially forbidden from finding any sort of financial success. It was ridiculous and unfair, and though he had long since gotten over his bitterness towards Thomas, Harry could not help himself from somewhat lashing out against him.

"So you're going to London, then?" Harry looked up from the letter, staring pointedly at Thomas as he awaited his reply.

Reluctant upon hearing Harry's sharp tone, Thomas answered him, "Yes, I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. I've already sent my reply."

Harry nodded in forced understanding, clenching his teeth as he tried to rationalize the anger that had arisen in him in the last several moments. It wasn't fair that Thomas could return to his life with Jane when he couldn't, but even so, the handwriting in the letter reminded him of one salient fact that only angered him further. Jane was married to James now, and given his note, it almost seemed that he cared for her.

Harry knew that this should have pleased him, because at the very least, Jane did deserve to be cared for; however, he just couldn't stand to think of James being the person that did it. Of all the people in the world, James was the least deserving to look after Jane, and despite his desire for Jane's well-being, that knowledge was just something that Harry could not release. Because he had done his best not to think of Jane and what she had been doing during their months of separation, Harry had not really allowed himself to entertain the specifics of what her life with James really meant, only now, receiving word directly from James himself made continuing to do so entirely impossible. Jane was either happy in her marital life, or she wasn't, and Harry felt that now that he was free, he was at liberty to find out, regardless of the threats Henry made against him.

"I'm going with you," Harry stated resolutely, knowing that Thomas would try to convince him to do otherwise.

"You know you can't do that." Thomas sighed gently, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder as a father might do to a son. "I wish you could, but you know what we agreed to in January. If Henry learns you ever tried to speak with her, he would have both of our heads."

"I'm not going to speak with her," Harry replied stiffly, trying to configure what to say to convince Thomas to leave him alone. "If I'm to go to Calais, I must pass through London anyways. I just want to see that she is happy, nothing more."

Thomas frowned, apparently seeing past Harry's false reasoning. "I hate to say it, but what if she isn't? From what I can gather from this letter, James seems nice enough, but you know him better than I do. Do you really think he has made her happy? You can't change anything, so there's no purpose in you seeing her again, whether she is happy or not. I think you know that already."

Harry did not reply immediately. In truth, he didn't know what he was thinking of doing, but all he could think was that he just needed to see Jane again. Given the suddenness of this new development in their lives, Harry hadn't the slightest clue of what he would do if he saw Jane again. But he didn't care about any of that yet; all he cared about was getting there first, and he would insist to Thomas that until he laid eyes on Jane one last time, he would not go on to Calais. Something inside him wouldn't allow him to do otherwise, and so without any intention of bending his will, Harry spoke his piece.

"I'm sorry if you don't approve, but if I am to live the rest of my life without her, I have to see her once more before I go." Harry dipped his shoulder to remove Thomas's hand from him, defiantly taking a step back. "As long as she doesn't see me, the agreement with Henry is not broken."

Pausing for several moments as he considered Harry's words, Thomas then sighed and shook his head, "Fine, but be careful. Henry won't be lenient with you, and from what you've told me about your relationship with James, I don't suppose he wants you around Jane any more than Henry does."

"James was too stupid to see that she loved me over him," Harry scoffed, "so I don't think I'm on his mind in the slightest."

Thomas shrugged, amused by Harry's less-than-amiable assessment of James Hale. "Still, don't provoke him."

"I don't plan on it. If I can avoid seeing him at all, I will."

"You know–" Thomas fell silent, then seemed to think better of what he was going to say. Harry half-wondered what it was, but not enough to press him on it. His mind was set, and nothing Thomas could say would alter his mind on the subject. Thomas seemed to know this, because instead of reprimanding Harry or trying to change his mind, he dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Alright then, go pack your things. I'm leaving on the first train tomorrow morning. You can take the one after me so James doesn't see you."

Admittedly surprised by Thomas's lenience, Harry hesitantly left the room and went to his own chambers, where he began to assemble his trunk. It felt odd to be leaving Edinburgh, and part of him wondered whether following through with his declared plan was a good idea; however, he did not think that now was the time for second-guessing. Harry was going to see Jane again, and the promise of joy that such an event would bring him was enough to negate his rationale that told him he might not like what he saw.

•••

sorry for the wait, my dudes, but we made it😅 also I love my business law professor so much that is all

Thanks for reading, my loves💖
-kate💖