Newcastle, United Kingdom
December 1851

It was the tradition in Newcastle for the Pelham family to host a grand celebration during the holiday season. It was the talk of high society as families travelled far and wide to take part in the three-day event that would kickstart Advent. Complete with many displays of art, music, and dancing, this party was a playground of sorts for those who had a particular taste for the finer things in life.

On the first of December, the guests began to arrive and settle into their rooms, filling the typically empty mansion with laughter and the ceaseless chatter of people who were in awe of all the splendid decorations they were seeing. The house had been extravagantly decorated for Christmas, complete with ropes of garland, candles, and golden ornaments to make the Pelham ancestral home seem even more magnificent than it usually did.

Henry and Regina, ever the dutiful hosts, made it a point to greet each and every one of their guests before sending them inside for an afternoon of refreshments and light conversation. Once their things were delivered upstairs to the guests' wing of the house, they would join Jane in the drawing room, where she would entertain them and make sure that everything was to their satisfaction. It felt much like a useless job, but Jane was nonetheless tasked with the monotonous undertaking, all the while having to keep an inviting expression throughout every dull conversation that took place.

Jane was exhausted by the time night fell, her will to socialize dwindling with each congratulation she received on her engagement. During the hours she spent welcoming people into her home, Jane was joined by none other than James Hale. He stood stoically behind her, saying not a word unless directly addressed by someone who had the audacity to speak to him. It was clear to everyone who encountered him that evening that his charm of prior years had evidently disappeared, or at the very least, had been hidden away and replaced by a distaste in the world. He was bitter about something, and only Jane seemed to know just why.

Several times when they had a brief moment standing by themselves, Jane would turn to him and tell him to at least pretend to be pleasant, but to her dismay, James would simply roll his cold grey eyes at her before taking another drink of his champagne and walking away to fill it once again. He wasn't outright rude to her in the presence of so many people, but their interactions were tense and strained, leading those around them to suspect that things were not so amiable between the should-be happy couple.

Luckily though, Jane did not have to sit by James at dinner. It was apparent that both of their demeanors improved drastically when not in the presence of the other. Jane observed this in James and how he seemed to be friendlier towards the women that were seated near him, his blue eyes seeming to come alive with that enchanting glow that he had suppressed in the last weeks of being in that house.

Though Jane knew that she shouldn't have cared, she could not help the offense that she took over James' apparent interest in any woman but her. She knew it was stupid to be hurt by this; after all, she had Harry, and he was her future. But as confident in his love as she was, Jane could not suppress the insecure teenager within her that longed for the approval of those around her. And since James so obviously did not seem to give it to her, Jane found herself wondering what it was about her that left him so dissatisfied.

He rarely hesitated to stare lustily at her when he had had enough to drink, but never had he so shamelessly flirted with her as he was with the married women sitting near him. There was a playfulness in the way he talked with them that made Jane hate him. It was jealousy, though she would never admit to herself. She had better things to worry about than the man that she was leaving, so Jane determined not to look at him again.

Instead, she fixed her eyes on Harry who sat with her Uncle Andrew diagonally across from her. This proved to be a wise decision as she was given an excuse to talk to Harry with no one to suspect them of anything. It was then that she completely forgot about James and the slight that he had paid her; why should she think of him when Harry looked at her with such adoration in his lively green eyes? That was surely a much more pleasant attitude in which to spend her evening.

The next day passed in the same way. James did a rather fantastic job of ignoring Jane, and she in turn made no effort to speak to him. There was no point in getting to know him when, come summertime, she would never see him again. But regardless of their lack of conversation, Jane found the day to be a tiring one. Too many fake smiles surrounded her, and she sincerely wished to find herself in that old, broken down cabin in the woods with Harry and her father. But such a meeting was impossible to arrange, especially when there were so many people there to catch her sneaking out when she was supposed to be asleep.

Thus, for both Harry and Jane, the whole of the three days was spent dreaming of the moment when all those pompous guests would leave, and for the most part, the time did pass uneventfully. All that was left now, was the grand ball that was to take place on the last night of the Pelham's extravagant party. For the women, the day was spent in preparation of the event, piling their freshly curled hair atop their heads, squeezing themselves into unbearably tight corsets, and dawning gowns that were meant to show off just how much each person could afford to spend. And for the men, well, they spent it avoiding their wives in any way they could.

But at last, the time came for the frivolity to commence, and each and every man and woman was anxious for the grandeur that the night would inevitably bring to them. Even more Christmas decorations had been added to the great house, including a twelve foot tall evergreen tree which was adorned with lit candles and expensive gold and silver beads. Garland and holly hung all over the place, and if the guests were to look hard enough, one or two lucky couples could have even found the mistletoe for a brief moment of intimacy together.

Just like the superbly decorated mansion, the food and the music of the evening were made with such artistry and precision that not one person there that night could have found a flaw in it even if they had tried. Of course, no one did try, though. Why should they try to scheme against their gracious hosts when there was dancing to be done?

Early on in the night, Jane once again had the displeasure of having to dance with her nearly drunk fiancé, both of them faking the smiles they had grown so accustomed to as of late. When the dance ended, Jane was relieved when Regina approached them, asking to speak with James alone. But once James was out of the picture, Jane found that the evening just might be somewhat enjoyable.

Once Jane found her way over to her cousin William and her uncle Andrew, her attitude visibly shifted to be one of lightheartedness and even a little bit of genuine joy. She and Harry tried to keep a distance from each other for the most part, knowing that subtlety was not their strength. But as much as she would have liked to dance with Harry until her heart's content, Jane found that she did not mind his absence too terribly much since she was able to spend the time with her few sane relatives.

It made her sad, though. Whatever evil her grandparents had done against her, there were still good people that she was leaving behind by running away; it made her feel guilty to think of all that they would have to do to try and cover up what would surely be a scandal of her own making. Jane wished things could be different, but she knew that there really was no other way. She had to run away. If she were to have any shred of happiness in her future, she would have to.

But as distressed as Jane was over what was in store for her, none harbored more anguish than James Hale. When Regina had pulled him aside earlier that evening, she had given him a letter from his father in London. She had left him alone to read it, and it had been a good thing, too. His father was ill again, and like the last time, good old Charles Hale was using his illness as a reason to see his son married.

James scoffed at the letter, knowing that his father was just trying to tie him down sooner rather than later. His father would live through this illness, as was his custom, so James knew that he was just using his condition as an excuse to get him to do his bidding. Charles had been deathly ill at least a dozen times in the previous five years, so James was used to the schemes that were so often made against him.

While James was accustomed to being guilted into action, this time, his actions would have an enduring effect on his life whereas the others had been temporary. James had been under the impression that he had half a year to prepare mentally for the task of marriage, but now, it appeared that time had been diminished to just a month. Whether he was ready or not, James Hale would marry come the New Year, and he was none too pleased by it.

He was scared of having to face his responsibilities and of the possibility of failing in the face of them. He was angry that his life was being dictated for him, and he wished nothing more than to go to Paris or Rome to escape the boring future that his father had decided on his behalf. James wanted to run, but ever loyal to his duty as a son and heir to his father's wealth and title, James knew that running was not an option. He would have to face his task boldly without fear or hesitation, but such an endeavor was not an easy one to accomplish without the aid of his ever-present companion.

Shoving the letter in his coat pocket, James left the study he had been in and headed towards his bedroom, carefully avoiding the party that persisted down below. His room was where the liquor was. He wanted to not think about the bondage which he was apparently so willing to enter into, and he knew that there was only one way of doing that. Before that summer, James used to only drink to inspire confidence in himself when talking to a beautiful woman or to have a good time with his friends, but now he found it to be his daily comfort. It was the only thing in his life that could numb him just long enough for him to avoid the thoughts of fear and anger that so frequently raced through his mind. He just wanted relief, and if he was able to find it at the bottom of a bottle, then he was going to reach for it every time.

Each drink went down easier than the last, and in turn, he felt himself slithering into his hole of numbness. Several times as he drank, James thought of Henry's words to him, telling him to ease up on the alcohol, and each time he was reminded of it, he took another swig to spite the old man who was trying to tell him how to live his life. It angered him to think about.

But James was torn between two angers. One was directed towards Henry for speaking down to him for his drinking habits, and the other was towards the two Pelham women for accusing him of striking Jane. As terrible as James knew himself to be, he knew he would never strike a woman; thus, when Henry wouldn't believe that he was innocent, James was enraged. He was furious that anyone would doubt him, but more than that, he was hurt and angry that Jane should lie in such a drastic way to somehow break her engagement to him. James could not think of a single thing he had done that would make him so repulsive to her.

Thus, James set to drinking. He didn't want to think about any of it– not the wedding, not the responsibility he would have to assume once his father died, not even pretty little Jane who hated him for reasons that he could not comprehend. James hadn't ever been looked at in the way that Jane looked at him, her otherwise enchanting blue eyes filled with sadness and uneasiness every time they chanced to meet his own. It hadn't bothered him at first, just because he hated the idea of having to get married just as much, if not more, than she did. However, having grown used to the idea of it, James was somewhat confused as to what he had done to her to incur such disdain in her fierce gaze.

He could only assume that it had to do with his old friend Harry, who had doubtlessly poisoned her against him. James didn't care that Jane would never love him- as he was determined not to love her- but he hated that of all people, his future wife was choosing to listen to the man who had once been his greatest friend and ally.

James hated Harry- whether it was because he no longer enjoyed his company or because he represented something so much greater than he could ever be, James didn't know, nor did he care to think about it. All he cared about was that Harry had deserted him suddenly on account of his guilt, and as his best friend, regardless of how things ended, James was hurt that Harry would be so dreadfully unforgiving.

Of course, James knew that he was partially to blame. What he had done to Harry's sweet sister was foul and shameful to think about, but in concordance with his lack of maturity, every time he began to feel too much regret over it, he would turn to the drink that would numb his mind from feeling too much remorse. Above all, James hated feeling guilty; he hated feeling like he had to take responsibility and make amends for his actions. Maybe it was out of laziness or true disdain for who he had become, but James was determined never to think about the things he had done and continued to do. There was no point anyway; he didn't think he was capable of change, and the liquor did a good enough job of taking it off his mind, so why worry about it?

That was how he dealt with all of his emotions, good or bad. He didn't want to feel them at all if he could help it. It was James's philosophy that emotions made one weak, and so with the belief that he was becoming master over himself, James surrendered himself to the oblivion that alcohol could bring him. It was a twisted and misguided view on who had control over his life, and James had fallen victim to it at a young age. The sad thing was that, at the age of twenty-three, James still did not have the maturity to see what he was really doing to himself or those around him. And left long enough to continue down this path, James would crumble, and it would be his wife's job to clean up the mess.

As he drained the last of the bottle that had once been full earlier that morning, James, for some reason, determined that now was as good of a time as any to return to the party downstairs. There was one particular woman that he had met upon her arrival there days before, and he intended to make his move on her that night, regardless of whether her husband would approve or not.

A married woman had never scared him away, and in many ways, he actually preferred it. There could be no question regarding his intentions with them, and often, James found that they didn't mind. Most of them were unhappily married anyway, so he knew he wasn't doing any real damage. Both James and whoever he should fix his attentions upon would leave satisfied, and no one would ever know what had happened between them. It was a lovely arrangement.

Thus, with heavy steps, James descended one of the back staircases that would lead him to the back balcony of the house. There, he would find a direct entrance to the great hall in which the dance persisted below him. Stumbling as he went, James relished in the feeling of not feeling anything. He could barely keep his eyes open as he walked towards the back door, his shoulder slamming into it forcefully, but he didn't care. All he could think about was that beautiful lady, so the temporary pain in his shoulder was nothing to him.

The door swung open, and suddenly, James was hit by a wall of frigid air that sliced through his thin coat with ease. He was not dressed for this weather by any means, but still, James could not help but like how the cold felt against his hot cheeks. Deciding that going inside could wait a few more moments, James made his way across the terrace to lean against the stone railing that lined it. Lazily turning himself to face the house, James rested his elbows on the hard surface behind him and looked on through the windows at the grand display of frivolity that seemed to be raging within.

He didn't know how late it was, but even in his drunken state, he could see that the crowd had begun to thin out. He was disappointed to see that, simply because if he were to get away with finding that pretty married woman from earlier, he would have liked to sneak off with her at the height of the party. That way, her husband would fail to notice her absence and not a soul would suspect them of anything. Only now, even James could see that he had missed his timeframe.

Groaning aloud to himself, James shut his eyes and lifted his face to the sky, wondering what he should do now. Unless he wanted to participate in a rather unpleasant altercation with a man twice his size, he would have to find other plans to spend the evening. James didn't exactly like being drunk by himself, so he was determined to do something else; he just didn't know what that might be as of yet.

James stood there alone in the cold for several minutes, his eyes flickering open every so often as a loud exclamation took place inside. Aside from those few minor disturbances, James's time outside was a peaceful one. He was glad for it; after learning of the rapidly approaching date of his wedding, such serenity and nothingness was exactly what James needed in order to calm his troubled mind.

But suddenly, as if the world had something against him, James's peace was ruined by the last person he wished to see. Well, she was't the very last person he wished to see, but still, she had risen fairly high up on the list.

Jane had slipped outside for a moment of fresh air when she laid eyes on James standing- or rather, laying- against the railing of the terrace. Immediately, she regretted coming out there at all, since she sincerely wished to avoid anymore of the rude comments he had been making all weekend. But it was sadly too late to turn back now; James had seen her, and she would not lessen his opinion of her by running away.

"What are you doing out here?" James asked her harshly, his head heavily tilted back as he spoke to her. He was drunk; Jane recognized it immediately, since as of late, she had rarely seen him otherwise.

Frozen in place, Jane spoke quietly so as not to set him off, "I was just catching my breath. If I had realized you were out here, I would not have come."

James scoffed and lifted his head with great effort so that he could look upon Jane. She looked pretty tonight, he admitted to himself. But just as quickly as the compliment had entered his mind, it disappeared with the annoying thought of why she was so keen on avoiding him. He decided he would ask.

"So you're avoiding me, then?"

Jane raised her brow in confusion, wondering to herself whether him ignoring her had all been in her head. Surely it couldn't be. He hadn't talked to her all night, and in the last few weeks they had hardly seen each other at all- none of which was accomplished by her own plans. Surely, he was the one avoiding her.

"I'm not avoiding you," Jane replied, never moving from her place by the door. She didn't want to come nearer to him lest he drunkenly lash out against her. It hadn't happened before, but she feared it might be a possibility. "I just- I know you don't like me to bother you, so... I don't know, I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

James was surprised by Jane's words to him. He had expected her to respond to him with sarcasm and irritation, but that wasn't how she sounded in the least. She was quiet and shy, and for a moment, James almost wished that he was on good terms with her. She had good spirit about her and would likely be able to make him happy one day, but that wasn't what James was after. He wanted passion, and one look at the girl in front of him was enough for him to know that he could never have that with her.

James didn't know what to say in response to Jane. He wasn't used to kindness, and so, in the face of it, he was unsure of what could serve as an appropriate reply.

Shaking his head in frustration, James decided that he wouldn't waste any more of his energy fretting over whether he should be polite or not. He was drunk, and to him, that meant he could say whatever he wished without consequence. In truth, he wanted to provoke Jane, even though he knew she didn't deserve it. He wanted her to yell at him and tell him why she hated him so much, simply because he couldn't fathom why a woman should be so disappointed in him as she was. It hurt his pride, and so he wanted to pay back the favor.

"You're right," James said bitterly, purposefully glaring at her through his heavy eyes. "I don't want to see you."

Jane was taken aback by James's words to her, unaware of why he would be so vocally rude to her. Snide, passive aggressive comments had been their means of dealing with each other until this point, and so Jane was shocked by his bluntness. Nonetheless, she tried to hide her offense, choosing to look away from him and ignore his comment.

"Right," she said, crossing her arms across her chest and shifting her eyes to the ground. "Well, I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I'll just, um, I'll just go then."

But James didn't want her to go, not until she said what he wanted to hear.

"No, don't go." James stood upright and clumsily made his way towards her. "I want to ask you something."

Jane nervously looked up at him and nodded, keeping her eyes shyly focusing on anything but James's face.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

Jane's breath caught in her throat as she choked out an answer, "I- I don't hate you."

"Don't deny it." James laughed bitterly, taking a step nearer to her so that his alcohol-saturated breath fanned against her face. "I know you do, Jane. I just don't know why."

Jane shivered in the cold, unsure of what else she could say to him. She was scared of what he might do to her there outside while they were all alone. Jane had never been truly alone like this with him before, and she didn't like it one bit. She felt utterly out of control of what was to happen to her, and with James's barely-there rationality, she feared that he might hurt her. And if he did, even on accident, she knew she would never forgive him.

"I don't hate you," she said again, taking a step back away from him, but he only followed until her back was pressed up against the door from whence she came. Her eyes darted around, searching for some way out, but as he closed the gap between them, Jane saw nothing but the man with the shiny black hair and devilish grin on his lips. With her heart beating in her ears, Jane pressed her hand against his chest so as to keep some space between them, but the action did little to fend him off. Jane went on to beg, her voice small and trembling as he glared mercilessly down at her. She saw hatred there in his eyes, and suddenly, Jane felt even more panic than before.

"Please, James, believe me. I don't hate you, I just- I-" James interrupted her.

"I find that hard to believe since you seem to want to ruin Henry's good opinion of me."

Jane's eyes widened as she immediately recognized what James was talking about.

"I didn't mean-"

James brought his hand up to Jane's face, roughly grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Who did hit you, Jane? I saw the mark on your face a few weeks ago and wondered how you came about earning such a fine accessory."

Jane was immediately reminded of how Harry had treated her upon seeing her face and could not help but compare how different James was treating her. While Harry had embraced her tenderly with anger in his eyes over who had hurt her, James handled her with brute force and no regard to the pain she had suffered. It was a comparison that made Jane see just how necessary her trip with Harry and Thomas really was. James didn't care about her, and he never would.

"I'm sorry that I lied," Jane said, just hoping that her apology would be enough to persuade him to turn away. "Please, I- let go of me, and I'll tell him it wasn't you."

James released his hold on her and chuckled darkly to himself, "It doesn't even matter now, you silly child. What's done is done."

"What do you mean?" Jane didn't understand why her honesty would not change things. Surely, her grandfather would believe her.

"The date's been set, Jane." James smiled at her, though there was such a sinister gleam in his eyes that told Jane that he was not at all happy with what he was talking about. It was almost as if he was teasing her at his own expense. "You're going to marry me whether you like it or not, and it's going to happen far sooner than you think."

***

Yay, finals are over.. that's why this took so long so sorry about that :)

Anyway, thank for reading y'all! I love you guys!
-Kate🖤