Newcastle, United Kingdom
October 1851

That night Harry eyed his window impatiently, just awaiting the moment when she would come into view. He was on the third floor of that magnificent house, in a room that had a wide view of the vast Pelham estate. Night had fallen upon Clumber Park, and the day's rain had at long last come to a close. There was a hazy mist that settled there, making it difficult to see much of anything, but still, Harry searched the darkness like a starved animal in search of food. Though it had been mere hours since he had last seen Jane at the dinner table, he found himself yearning for the familiar pleasure of her company and attention.

As the hours ticked by, Harry began to wonder whether Jane had changed her mind about meeting him. Harry's doubts had nearly convinced him to retire for the evening when there in the darkness, a small, glowing light appeared in the tree line. Harry's breath caught in his throat and his heart rate quickened as he eyed that light with intense concentration. It was her; it had to be.

Standing up quickly from his seat by the window, Harry snatched his coat from the bed and he made his way quietly through the pitch-black hallways towards the servants' exit. Slipping out through the side door, Harry stepped out into the foggy evening, the brisk winds cutting through the thick wool of his coat with such severity that he began to worry about how prepared Jane had been for this frigid weather. Did she have a coat? Or gloves? Harry didn't know, but he knew that he would give her his own garments should she have need of them.

As Harry traversed across the lawn, he kept his eyes on that ever-approaching light in the distance. The cold seeped into him, each moment in the outdoors seeming to him like torture, but Harry knew that once he reached Jane's light, he would find that the journey had been worth it. He thought of her warmth– the warmth of her clear, blue eyes and the warmth of her bright smile– but most of all, Harry thought of the warmth of her touch. It had been hours since they had embraced for the first time, and though she had long since parted from him, Harry could still feel the lingering sensation of Jane's warmth in his arms. He longed to feel her against him again, and though he knew it shouldn't, the idea of Jane's body against him spurred him towards the edge of the forest.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Harry shivered as the tree line drew closer to him. The light was still there, flickering in the cruel, autumnal winds. It was strange how quickly the weather had turned like this. Harry supposed it had to do with the rain, but regardless of its cause, the nature of that evening was not a kind one. It reminded Harry of James and his cold stare; therefore, he mused that the weather's severity was due to his old friend's arrival in Newcastle. Such an event was impossible, Harry knew that, but still, he liked the idea that nature could sense the man's sins and turn accordingly.

At long last, the trees were only mere meters away from him. Harry walked briskly towards them in silence, though once he passed the first tall oak, he could not keep Jane's name from his lips. He called for her, and there came a gasp and then the sound of footsteps coming towards him.

"Harry?" Jane whispered as she approached him, holding out the lamp to illuminate his figure. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Harry replied clearly, his voice matching the tone of hers though he didn't know why they were whispering. Surely, they were far enough from the house to speak in normal voices. "What–"

"Sh!" Jane shushed him and Harry could just make out Jane holding her finger to her lips. "Not here; we must go out further." She extended her hand out to him. "Here, take my hand."

Harry looked to the faint outline of her hand in the dark and hesitantly took it in his own before he could feel Jane tugging him further into the woods. Her hand was warm in his, and though Harry knew that such a simple feeling could not possibly matter, he made a mental note to remember what her touch felt like. She held him firmly and confidently, but at the same time, there was a softness to her hold on him that was endearing. Harry supposed her hold on his heart was somewhat similar to the gentle but sure attitude she exhibited there in the forest.

Silently, the pair made their way through the trees, the wet leaves beneath them sliding deeper into the mud with every step they took. Harry could not see through the darkness ahead of him, so he found himself having to duck below the low-hanging tree branches just as they were about to scrape his face. They plunged deeper into the woods, and as they did, a feeling of unease began to creep up into Harry's chest. The wind began to howl overhead and the trees grew denser; he began to wonder whether Jane knew where they were going. There seemed to be no path they were following, what with all the trees clumped so tightly together, but still, Jane walked on with a confidence that brought Harry the smallest bit of comfort.

At last, Jane began to slow in her steps, the event of which led Harry to believe that they were getting close to their final destination. In truth, the long walk had made Harry tired, and though he would never admit it to Jane, he was freezing. The tip of his nose was stinging from the cold, wet winds, and though he could not see very far in front of himself, Harry could clearly make out the evidence of his breathing through a cloudy fog that dissipated just about as suddenly as it had appeared. Harry tried to focus on the warmth of Jane's hand so that he might ignore the cold, but still, he could not help the shiver that trickled down his spine. Harry shuddered and drew his arms to himself, pulling his hand away from Jane's and shoving both of his hands deep into the pockets of his coat.

Jane stopped suddenly and Harry gasped in surprise as she turned around to face him. Jane moved nearer to him, and though Harry could not see her, he could feel her heat radiating towards him.

"We're almost there; I promise." She spoke quietly to him, but she was no longer whispering like before. "You will find warmth by the fire."

Confused, Harry cocked his head to the side as Jane raised the lantern to her eye-level, allowing him to at last attain a glimpse of her face. He had intended to inquire after their destination; however, with the light now shining on Jane's complexion, he became preoccupied with the cut that outlined her high cheekbone. She hadn't had it at dinner, so Harry wondered what could have happened to her in the time since he last saw her. Could a tree branch have caught her cheek at some point during their walk? Harry didn't know, but he had the feeling that Jane's injury had to do with something much more unpleasant than a twig.

"Jane," Harry said softly, his green eyes filled with concern. He stepped towards her, but Jane flinched away from him and lowered the lantern to hang by her side. "Jane, what–"

"It's nothing," Jane interjected, turning her face towards the ground. Her movements were quick and anxious, but Harry did not miss the way Jane pulled at her collar to cover her neck. Frowning, Harry worriedly made to speak, but Jane wasted no time in dismissing him again.

"Come," she said breathlessly, turning on her heel and moving with more intentional speed than before. Her feet moved quickly across the dark forest floor without so much as stumbling over a tree root while Harry was left to struggle through the darkness on his own. He didn't know the way, but because of the light in Jane's hand, he was nonetheless able to follow her. It seemed to him that that she was progressing to a run, and this led him to believe that his assumption about the scratch on her face had been correct. Something had happened to her after dinner, and she was trying to run from it.

When, at last, Harry could not bear her quickened pace any longer, he called out to her by name. She ignored him and continued further, and before Harry could really understand what had happened, they were no longer standing in the woods. They had reached a rather large clearing that had a small pond at its center. Near the forest's edge, Harry's eyes fell upon an old stone cottage that looked to be well over two hundred years old. He supposed that this was the place that Jane had intended to take him.

It took Harry a few moments to adjust to his surroundings, but as soon as the initial surprise melted away from his face, he was able to fix his eyes on Jane's silhouette in the distance. Jane stood silently by the water with the lantern cast aside upon the weather-worn grass. Her head was bowed towards the ground and her arms hugged her own torso in an attitude that made Harry's heart ache for her. However much the visual image of Jane's despair affected him, it was her soft whimpering that spurred him into action.

With quick, agile steps, Harry nearly sprinted to Jane in a moment of selfless compassion. He didn't care if he looked silly; he only cared to provide her what little comfort he could. Jane turned her face away from him, but made no attempt to reject his embrace. He pulled her to his chest, and in a moment, Jane began to weep without restraint. As Harry felt her small frame shaking in his arms, so too did he feel his soul trembling with the desire to take her pain upon himself. She didn't deserve to endure such hardships, of that much Harry was certain.

Jane's tears continued to flow with the same consistency of Harry's steady hold on her. He stroked her hair and spoke quietly to her with words of consolation that allowed Jane to relax into him. Harry could feel her clinging to him with every ounce of her energy, and though he knew it to be an inappropriate time for such thoughts, Harry could not help but wonder whether Jane's physical dependence on him meant that she trusted him. He hoped she did; he wanted nothing more than to be the person Jane came to in times of trouble. It appeared in that moment that he was just that; however, Harry's desires did not end with just attaining Jane's trust. He wanted to be the person in whom she found companionship, joy, and love. Harry wanted her. But that was impossible, and he knew it.

Harry was saddened by these thoughts, but when Jane suddenly look up at him, his troubles fell away in an instant. Even with tears in her eyes, Harry could see nothing but her gentleness and beauty.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, bowing her head once more. Harry loosened his hold on her as she moved away from him, and immediately, he felt the coldness of her absence rush upon him like an avalanche. "I– I don't know why I'm–" Jane paused and amended her words. She did know why she was crying, and Harry could see that she was very troubled by it. "I can't seem to stop crying today."

"Don't apologize." He smiled softly at her despite the dull ache he felt for her in his chest. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but if you did, then just know... know that I'm here."

Jane blushed and shyly turned her face away from him as she dried the tears that still wet her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it; I do, but– I actually asked you here to talk about the letter you gave me."

"Oh." Harry's face fell in disappointment. He had let his mind run away with his fantasies, and now, in the face of reality, he could not hide his embarrassed demeanor. Harry had hoped to express himself to Jane, his feelings, his love, all of it; but now, he was reminded of his true purpose there. He was there for Thomas Mercier, and his own emotions could not get in the way of that purpose. He knew that in his heart, but in his soul, he felt that his love for Jane was far more important. However, in spite of his feelings, Harry complied, inclining his head towards the house by the forest. "Yes, of course. Are we going inside?"

Jane nodded, and to Harry, it seemed that there was an apologetic gleam in her pale, blue eyes. Silently, she took up the lamp once more from the ground and led the two of them towards the building by the woods. Once they were inside, Harry watched as Jane set off immediately to conjure a fire. The walls did a great deal in blocking out the wind; however, they did little to inhibit the cold that had seeped in through the cracked stone. Jane moved with a practiced hand, and as the flame came alive, so then was Harry able to see her face in its entirety. The moonlight had shown some of it, but now the light from the fire fully illuminated the mark on Jane's cheek. She could see him staring at her, but she made no move to explain. Instead, she sat down on one of the old, musty chairs by the fire and turned her face in such a way that her injured cheek was shrouded with shadows. Harry could see the pain in her eyes, but he dared not inquire after it; she had already showed him what little she had wanted to by the water's edge, and he knew better than to press her on it.

Hesitantly, Harry sat down across from her, and immediately, he felt the fire's warmth begin to work on his stiff limbs. He waited for her to speak, but after nearly a whole minute of silence, Harry began to wonder whether he should say something. When he was about to speak, Jane cleared her throat and took a letter from her coat pocket, which Harry supposed to be from Thomas.

"Harry, how did you find this?" Jane asked suddenly, lifting her eyes to his face. The tears from earlier were now entirely gone, but she still had that same distressed expression resting upon her furrowed brow. Harry was becoming nervous now; the following conversation would change everything, and he was scared of it. Once he spoke with Jane on the topic of her father, he would risk the wrath of Henry Pelham, and even worse, the wrath of his wife Regina. But despite the risks, Harry had known what he was signing up for when he volunteered to carry out the task; therefore, he set out to answer Jane's every inquiry in hopes that she might come to know a family that loves her.

Clasping his hands in his lap, Harry shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair by the fire and answered her. "I knew your parents when I was young." At this, something seemed to click in Jane's mind. Her uncle had told her of her mother's encounter with Harry as a child; she was surprised he remembered it.

"And after the July Revolution back in thirty-two, my family came to England with your uncles and your mother, only my family and I went to live in London for a while just until conflicts abated in France. My father is French, so that didn't suit him very well, but he stayed for my mother's sake. We ended up staying in London indefinitely, so I grew up there, which is how I know James." The mention of James's name made Jane's stomach lurch. She hated to think of the man, not because he was particularly horrible to her, but because of what he represented. He represented the death of love, and when his name came from Harry's lips, she could hardly bare it. Shaking the thoughts of James from her mind, Jane fixed her attention once more on Harry and the words he was saying to her.

"When I showed an interest in law, your father was the first name that came to my parents' mind when looking for a place to study. So, I was shipped off to Calais, and your father and I became very close. So much had he begun to trust me that he told me of you and your mother and all the misfortunes he had suffered." Harry paused, hesitant to share with her the remainder of his story.

With a somewhat shaky breath, Harry continued and told Jane of how he had stepped into his current situation. "As you know, none of his attempts to reach you ever worked, so naturally, I begged him to let me try to reach you. It took him weeks to agree to it, but eventually, he came around, and so here I am."

Harry sighed, feeling somewhat relieved that the secret he had kept from her for so long was finally out in the open. As he looked at Jane, he could see that she was perplexed, but this did not come as a surprise to him in the least. The things he had just shared with her were undoubtedly shocking to hear, so he considered it normal that she would harbor some degree of disbelief.

"Why?" Jane asked, clearly confused.

Harry frowned, supposing her to be inquiring after Thomas's motives for wanting to see her. "Well, your father wants to be a part of your life. It was his greatest regret that he didn't get to-"

"No, no," Jane interrupted him, to which Harry responded with a curious tilt of his head. "No, I mean, why was it your natural conclusion to help him? Clearly, this conversation between us now has taken a great deal of time to orchestrate, so why is it that you would give up nearly half a year to my father's cause?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat at Jane's inquiry, for he knew that penance was what drove him to travel all the way to Newcastle. After his conflict with James over his sister, Harry had set out to make amends for his cruel behavior as a youth, and so when Thomas Mercier revealed to him to depth of his sufferings, Harry felt morally convicted to act on his friend's behalf. It was an easy explanation, but Harry found himself struggling for words. If there was one thing Harry did not wish for Jane to know, it was that he had previously traversed a path so wicked that if he had continued upon it, he would have led himself directly into the depths of hell. He couldn't tell her that, or else she would not see him for the man he had become. Contrarily, if he kept it from her, what change had he really made?

Frustrated by the dilemma he was to face, Harry leant forward in his seat and clasped his hands together in front of him. He couldn't lie, not if he was to truly be the man he wanted to be. If that meant exposing his transgressions, then he would do it for the sake of the respect he harbored for her.

With a deep breath and restless eyes, Harry answered her reluctantly despite his conscience screaming at him to refrain. "I'm a sinner, Jane."

Jane looked confused. "I don't think I quite understand."

Harry sighed and forced himself to make eye contact with her. "I- I wanted to do it because I needed to do some good in the world. After all I've done, it's only right that I make amends somehow."

Harry was saddened by the thought of his past. He mourned his decayed soul, because he knew that no matter how much he did to make for his abuse of love, he could never make himself whole again, nor could he take away all the pain he had caused. Harry hadn't known the significance of what he was doing when he ran around with James, drinking and whoring his way across Europe, but now that he did, it was all he could think about.

Harry thought of his sister and the misfortunes she had suffered by James's hand, and for the millionth time, he cursed his own name for not changing his ways sooner. Had he distanced himself from James, then his sister might not have had to endure the pain of her heartbreak or the shame of having a bastard child. Harry felt that the entire ordeal was his own fault, despite what his sister told him, and he lived every day trying to make amends for it.

While Harry's purpose was clear to him, Jane did not understand in the same way. She looked at him with a frown on her already distressed face, though it was plain to see that she had forgotten entirely about her own trials. She was engrossed in what Harry had to say, mostly because she could see no flaw in him that might coincide with what he had just told her. Harry could see the doubt in her eyes, and it was for that reason that he wished he had remained silent. Her good opinion of him was about to be tarnished, if not entirely destroyed, and it pained him to think of it.

Harry was about to continue on with his tale, but Jane stopped him and quietly said to him the very words he wanted to hear. "Harry, wait. I can see that it pains you to speak of." Jane smiled sympathetically at him, all of her former anxieties melting away from her complexion. "You don't have to tell me what it is you have done. I was just curious as to why you would perform such a generous act of service to a man you have known for so little time."

"Are you certain? I-"

"I'm sure," Jane replied, nodding to encourage him. "The past is the past; there's no need for you to dwell on it now, especially when you seem to be so desperately seeking redemption from it."

A wave of relief washed over Harry as he stared gratefully at the lovely woman in front of him. How could she be so understanding of him? Harry didn't know, but he did know that even if he did have a chance with her, he did not deserve her in the least. She was too kind and forgiving given the way she was treated by others, and even though she had changed in some ways since he first met her, Harry could see that the virtues of her character had not been compromised. Jane had grown in maturity and confidence since that May afternoon in the Crystal Palace, and Harry admired her for it. He only wished he could explain to her just how aggressively his admiration consumed him.

"Thank you," Harry said finally, his voice filled with an emotion that he had meant to hide. Jane's demeanor softened as she heard his expression of gratitude, and it became clear to Harry that she understood him perfectly. He didn't have to explicitly declare his love for her, for he was fairly certain that she already knew it.

Nervous under Harry's steady gaze, Jane cleared her throat and shifted her eyes to the lively flames beside her. As she did this, her cheek was more fully exposed to the light, and Harry's focus was quickly set upon it. The light was not ideal, but Harry could see that the mark on Jane's face had been caused by something small and sharp, most likely a ring. In that moment, Harry also noticed a grouping of dark shadows peeping out from behind her sharply folded collar. This worried him even more. Someone had laid a hand on her and he intended to find out who the culprit was.

"I wonder," Jane began quietly, changing the subject and keeping her eyes cast upon the blazing fire. "Harry, I know this is a lot to ask, but I wonder if you could send a letter for me? Or, you know, write to him on my behalf?"

Harry pulled himself from his thoughts regarding Jane's apparent injuries, and nodded to her without hesitation. This was, after all, his entire reason for being there with Jane in the first place. "Of course. Do you have it with you?"

Jane's face lit up, "Wait, really?" Harry nodded. "Oh, um, no, I don't. I can get it to you by the end of the week, though."

"That's perfect," Harry smiled, leaning back in his chair and relaxing for the first time since stepping foot in that cottage. "I'll be going into town for the weekend, so I can deliver it then."

"Thank you, Harry." Jane was beaming now; her smile was broad and she see seemed to be glowing with all the possibilities of the future. However, there was something about her hopeful excitement that tarnished the innocent look about her. She had a gleam of mischievousness in her eyes that Harry couldn't ignore, and whatever it meant, Harry was sure that it would not be in line with the obedient facade Jane tried so hard to project. Jane was up to something, and it made him wonder whether it had to do with him. He hoped it did.

"I want to meet him," Jane said at last, her suddenly confident composure throwing Harry slightly off guard. "He should come here, I think. This is where he met my mother when she ran away with him."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He wondered whether Jane knew more than she let on. "How did you know that?"

Jane smiled, though Harry could see the hint of sadness in her eyes as she seemed to reflect on something. "My-" She stopped herself as if she remembered that she ought not to say what she intended to. "I only just found that out today, but I've been coming here for years." Jane suddenly stood from her chair and walked towards the fireplace, where she found a book sitting upon the mantel. She took it in her hands and turned smilingly towards Harry, "I told you I would show you my favorite place for star-gazing. That was when you gave me this."

Harry saw the book in Jane's hands, and he was quick to recognize it as his own. He had given it to her weeks ago when they met each other in Hyde Park on that one bright, summer afternoon. He thought back on their conversation that day, and he remembered being enamored by the passion Jane had for education and the pursuit of understanding. It was refreshing to him to see a woman who cared so deeply for things outside the realm of gowns and ribbons, and this was made even more so when Harry thought of how excited Jane was to converse with him about the constellations. The memory made him smile.

"I quite enjoyed it," Jane grinned, extending the book out to Harry for him to take.

Pleased with himself, Harry shook his head and declined her offer. "No, you keep it. It's a gift." Harry paused, shifting his eyes away from her. "If not that, then you'll at least have something to remember me by."

Harry couldn't see Jane's face, but he could sense the tension in the room. He began to wish he hadn't said anything, but in his heart, he knew that he was right. Once Jane was married to James, he would not be welcome in her life, so if her only reminded of him was a book, he would have to be content in that.

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Jane said sadly, turning her back to him in a quick motion that perked his attention. Harry lifted his eyes to see her standing with her head bowed ever so slightly, just like she had been less than an hour before by the water's edge. Instantly, regret washed over him, and Harry became filled with guilt. Why did he have to remind her of her inevitable prison? He knew the agreement made with the Hales was not of her own design, and he was certain that it was not her desire either. Why then, did he torment her in this way? Deep down, Harry knew it to be in result of his own wounded pride, but the thought shamed him, and he preferred not to think of it.

Harry stood swiftly from his seat and moved towards her, "Jane, I–"

"No, Harry." Jane pushed him away this time, and Harry had no choice but to leave her be. "I– It's going to be okay; I'm not marrying him."

At this, Harry froze. Did she mean that? How could it be possible?

Jane turned around to face him, her glittering eyes filled with tears but also a determination that Harry had never before seen in her. "I'm not marrying him; I–" Jane hesitated, her shaking voice momentarily failing her. "I can't, not when I- not when you.."

Jane trailed off, and in that moment, she forced herself to look into Harry's eyes. It was then that Harry truly understood what she was trying to tell him. He had fallen victim to his high hopes earlier that evening, but with the conversation of his past and his mission there in Newcastle, Harry had tucked them away. But now, his hopes were reawakened, and it seemed to him that Jane's words were more than enough reason to allow it.

With his heart beating in his ears and his breath caught in his throat, Harry took a step towards Jane so that he now stood over her. She inclined her head upwards so that her eyes did not leave his own, but even so, she could scarcely breathe. Her expression was soft and affectionate, but her eyes seemed to be begging for him to speak. Harry didn't understand what had occurred to inspire Jane's forwardness with him; however, the how or why didn't matter to him then. What mattered was the words he would say to her.

For weeks, he had dreamed of how he would somehow express his feelings towards Jane, but now that the moment had arrived, he found himself to be subject to his own fear of rejection. What if he was wrong? What if this wasn't what she had meant at all? He would forever be humiliated as a man who was foolish enough to pursue a soon to be married woman. But then again, what had she meant by telling him that she was no longer engaged to James? Surely, Jane's reason for bringing it up was because she wanted someone else. Surely, Jane wanted him, too.

"Jane," Harry spoke quietly. His was voice sure, but not in the least understanding of what was happening.

"Yes?" She replied breathlessly, like she was unsure of the conversation to follow, but despite this uncertainty, it was clear to Harry that she too had hope gleaming in her eyes.

In that moment, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind. She wanted him to; he was sure of it. And unless he spoke up to her now, Harry feared that the event he dreamed of would never happen. This was no time for succumbing to his fear. This was the time to disregard his fear and seize his future, and though it had taken him ages to truly grasp it, he was entirely certain that his future was standing right there in front of him.

"I don't want you to marry him, Jane." Jane looked up at him with confusion clouding her expression. Harry shook his head at himself for beginning his speech so foolishly, and mustered up what little courage he had to say the words that would change the course of his life forever. "Jane, I- I'm sure you must know this already, because I'm about as subtle as a freight train, but I-" Harry paused and took a deep breath; this would be the moment- their moment.

Harry hesitantly reached up to her face and cupped her cheek in his hand. Jane relaxed into him almost instantly, and it seemed to him that she had moved to close the gap between them. Her chest was nearly touching his own, and between them existed a few moments of serene stillness that Harry did not wish to disturb. Those moments seemed to last forever, and he was happy for it. Standing there looking into her eyes, Harry felt like she was all he needed to live. So strange it seemed to him to find such joy in something so small, but still, there was something that told him that there could be more.

He wasn't thinking when he bent his head down towards her, but when Harry's lips met Jane's, everything that had gone unspoken between them instantaneously made sense. She melted into him without a second thought, and Harry felt that he was experiencing the greatest pleasure he ever had in his life. Everything before her became insignificant to him; all that mattered was Jane and the fact that they could be together.

Filled with more warmth than the fire in the hearth could have ever given him, Harry pulled away from Jane to find that she had tears streaming down her face. She was smiling too, but still, Harry was worried that he had overstepped, so he began to apologize. Jane shook her head calmly and reached up to him, lacing her fingers through his thick, curly hair, the feeling of which Harry never would have thought would feel so good.

"Please don't apologize.. not for that." Jane smiled at him, but Harry was still confused.

"I don't understand," Harry said quietly. "Why are you crying?"

Laughing quietly to herself and looking Harry in the eyes, Jane shook her head and sighed, "I just- I didn't realize that love could feel like this."

•••

😊 it was a long road to get here but I hope y'all enjoyed it! Also, if you're confused about a few things, fear not, you're supposed to be. I will be answering all your questions eventually😁

Anyways, thanks for reading, y'all! Ily❤️
-Kate❤️