Chapter 26

"We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds." Libby Bray

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Chapter Twenty – Six

Mary Smith had made many foolish choices in her life. Perhaps the first was becoming a nurse.

Of course there was not an abundance of occupations for women to occupy. It was either service, nursing, or factory work. She had tended to others enough throughout her childhood and teenage years to know that the validation she received through gratitude was something that she wanted to continue receiving.

It was not unusual for her to grow attached to her patients. In fact, she had once believed that this was what had made her a good nurse. She cared.

Just as she had cared for Captain Cassidy. She had cared for him, and then she fell in love with him. The fact that he was married had only been a minor complication. Rich people had a way of getting around that.

But Mary had genuinely believed that Captain Cassidy returned her affections. The way he needed her, and relied upon her, was like no other. Mary was the only one who understood, and so she had meddled. She had meddled with his doctor's diagnosis. She had meddled in his married. She had sewed the seed of doubt in Isabella's mind that Luke preferred Mary over her.

How had innocent love come to this?

Isabella's mother, Mrs Dawson, had given her the opportunity to flee once she had taken Jamie off her hands. It was the right thing. The child was ill, and Mary had not been able to risk seeing a doctor and exposing herself.

She had all but booked passage to France when she noticed the front page of a newspaper that a man was reading.

"KIDNAPPED CASSIDY BOY REUNITED WITH FATHER IN LONDON"

The word "kidnapped" was frightening, but that was the reality of the situation, was it not? She had kidnapped Luke and Isabella's son. She had nearly killed them both! And Luke was here, in London.

If she fled the country, then she would forever be on the run. The police were searching for her. Luke no doubt wanted her in chains. The thought of being so hated was terrifying. But the anxiety she felt not knowing if the strangers around her recognised her was even worse.

She needed to speak to Luke. She needed to make amends. This was not who she was. This was not supposed to be how her life turned out.

It was not long before the newspapers had reported that Luke and Jamie were travelling to Bath to be at Isabella's bedside. It was helpful that England was so preoccupied with knowing absolutely everything about the Cassidy family. It made tracking their movements so simple.

Mary had made her way to Bath on a coach, keeping her head down and avoiding conversation with other passengers.

What was her plan once she had reached Bath? She had no clue. What was her plan if Luke refused to listen to her? Run.

Mary supposed that Bath was a little out of the way of the London press, and so it was not much of a risk if she applied for a nursing position at the hospital in which Isabella was kept. She had fabricated some references and was quickly taken on.

Apparently Bath housed many wealthy residents who sought the doctor for every throat tickle. The demand for doctors and nurses was great.

Mary had stayed out of sight for the first couple of days of her employment. But she had been there to subtly witness Luke's arrival at the hospital, the arrival of Isabella's panicked family, including Mrs Dawson and a healthier looking Jamie.

How could she had not realised who Mrs Dawson was? The resemblance was uncanny now, especially when she was near Annaliese and her younger daughter. Mary could not recall the name of the other sister.

Mary listened curiously as the other nurses spoke of Isabella's condition. Isabella had been suffering from memory loss, a result of the trauma her brain had suffered after her attack. That was what the nurses referred to it as – an attack.

Mary had not meant to hurt her. But the extent of the pain she had caused ...

When she had learned that Isabella had needed to be sedated due to panic, Mary truly wondered if her endeavour would be successful. Luke would never forgive her. She had stabbed him in a fit of rage. She had permanently damaged his wife, and she was responsible for the kidnapping of his son.

Just as she was coming to the decision to write a letter and leave, Isabella's breakfast tray was thrust into her hands.

Mary felt ill as she carefully made her way down the hallway towards Isabella's bedroom. She chided herself for believing it a good idea to come to Bath in the first place.

"Is that tray for Mrs Cassidy?" asked a familiar voice.

Mary practically jumped out of her skin and did her best to balance the breakfast tray.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry," he apologised sincerely.

Mary froze as she looked up at Captain Cassidy. How long had it been since she had seen him? Months! But he was still so handsome. He looked happy, and that was what made him especially handsome. What did he have to be happy about?

Mary then realised that she was in full view of a man who would most likely send her to the hangman's noose without a second thought. She cocked her head to the side ever so slightly.

It then dawned on her that Luke had no idea who she was. He had only ever known her voice. He had never seen her face.

"Is that Mrs Cassidy's breakfast?" he asked, growing impatient.

Mary could not risk speaking. She nodded.

Luke twisted his torso as he pointed at Isabella's door. "That door there, on the right," he instructed.

Mary hurried past him before bursting into Isabella's room without knocking merely to escape the hallway.

"Oh, I am sorry," Mary apologised, before realised that she had just used her voice.

The sight before her was quite sweet. Isabella was sitting on the edge of her bed and Jamie was sleeping in her arms. Isabella had looked up as soon as her door had been opened. Mary noticed that Isabella had changed dramatically since she had last seen her.

Isabella had always been dressed immaculately, with her blonde hair coiffed in the latest styles. But now she looked human. She had lost weight. Her face was very thin, and her skin was very pale. But she looked normal in the way that her hair simply hung down her back, and she had shadows under her eyes as almost everyone did.

"Not to worry," Isabella replied, smiling.

Isabella was smiling at her. She really had forgotten everything.

Mary awkwardly placed the breakfast tray down on the bed beside Isabella.

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

From this angle, Mary could see just how Jamie was sleeping. Wrapped around his mother, peaceful as an angel.

Isabella seemed to notice Mary watching. "He is my son," she said softly, the pride evident in her voice. "His name is Jamie."

"He is very sweet, Mrs Cassidy," murmured Mary.

"And he loves me." Isabella sighed as she peered down at her son, mesmerised in a way that only a new mother could be.

Mary knew just how much, too. Jamie never stopped asking for Isabella.

"I have a husband, too," continued Isabella, more to herself than to Mary. "His name is Luke. And he loves me, too." Isabella's cheeks reddened slightly. "He is the most handsome man I have ever seen."

On that they could both agree.

"I suppose he is the only man I have ever seen ... that I can remember," she added. "I am sure that you are very busy, but do you think that you could help me for a few minutes?" Isabella asked.

Mary was taken aback. She felt as though she was treading on eggshells around this woman. "With what, Mrs Cassidy?"

"My ... my husband looks at me as if I am ethereal," Isabella said bashfully.

You were, Mary thought. Are, she corrected herself. Pale and skinny as she was, Isabella could never be ugly.

"Do you think that you could brush my hair? Perhaps do something simple with it?" she asked cautiously. "I know it is not your job, but I would so like to look nice for him. I cannot do anything else for him."

Mary nodded slowly as she went off in search of a brush. What a strange dynamic this was. "How do you mean?" she asked curiously.

Isabella laughed lightly. "I am his wife, and I have done nothing but scold him and push him away these last few days, and he has endured it like a true gentleman."

Mary found a comb in one of the drawers and took it over to the bed to detangle Isabella's hair.

"Thank you," she said just as soon as Mary began work. "My husband was stabbed on the day that this happened to me. He nearly died, just as I did." Mary's hand froze. Luckily Isabella seemed to attribute this to shock. "I know, it is dreadful. But he never used it as an excuse, and I admire that. He has suffered also, and the least he deserves is a wife who does not look like the living dead." Isabella chuckled at her joke, but Mary could barely managed a pained looking grimace.

"I think I can safely say that your husband would want only you, even if he could not see a thing, Mrs Cassidy." Mary had not realised that she had spoken the words aloud until Isabella was craning her neck around to look at her.

"Did he say something to you?" she pressed.

"Oh, he was very chatty in the hallway," lied Mary quickly.

Isabella seemed to accept that. She smiled.

"Do you think that you will all be alright? I am sorry to ask, but I am curious." Mary's conscience was very curious.

"I cannot say," replied Isabella honestly. "How can I? I have forgotten my past and so I cannot predict my future. But I know I have two very wonderful people by my side," she said fondly, peering down at her son. "And I have sisters and parents and in-laws. It seems Isabella is much loved."

Mary thought it odd that she referred to herself in the third person. Perhaps she did not yet feel like herself. However, even though Isabella was unsure, Mary knew that she would be alright. Luke was too honourable not to look after her, and Isabella would certainly fall in love with her husband all over again. It seemed that her son already had Isabella wrapped around his little finger.

Mary had no pins or ribbons, so she simply left Isabella's hair out, soft and combed through. "Your hair is lovely, Mrs Cassidy."

"Thank you ... forgive me, I do not know your name."

"May," Mary murmured, using the name she had given to her new employer.

"Thank you, May," Isabella said gratefully.

Mary spied some fresh parchment and ink on the little table in Isabella's room, meant for her correspondence while she convalesced. "If you do not mind, I am just going to leave a little note for your husband about your care. Will you have him read it once he returns?"

"Of course," agreed Isabella.

Mary walked over to the table and bent over, dipping the quill in ink as she began to scrawl:

Please forgive me. Mary.

Mary righted herself and faced Isabella. "Good luck, Mrs Cassidy. I sincerely wish you good health after your misfortunes."

"I appreciate it," replied Isabella.

It was time to go. They would all be fine, despite what Mary had done in a fit of rage and jealousy. "Make sure your husband reads my note, and ensure that he knows that I mean it."

Isabella nodded. With that, Mary slipped out of her room, determined to never lay eyes on the Cassidy family again.

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I am finally on break! But just from uni - everything else stays busy *insert eye roll emoji*. Still working. Netball starts back this week. And I took on a tutoring job! I'm tutoring in Year 12 English and psych this year, so I'm going to have to remember everything I have forgotten from my degree :P

In other news, I donated my hair to charity! I cut off 35cm (nearly 14 inches) of my hair which will go to a children's charity which makes wigs for kids going through cancer and other horrible diseases. I've wanted to do this for so long so I'm glad I finally did it :) But I seriously recommend researching charities if you ever want to get a big haircut. Put your hair to use instead of it going in the bin! And there are charities that take dyed hair (My hair was dyed in balayage style) so do consider it! It's so rewarding :)

But it is sooooo weird having short hair. I'm so used to practically sitting on my hair, and now my neck is bare haha. But I do hate that I can't put my hair up in a pony tail. I'm one of those people who hates hair touching the back of my neck, or the sides of my face, so I always am throwing my hair up. Need to buy a crap ton of bobby pins.

Okay, off to bed! Have a lovely day/night and I'll speak to you soon xx

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