"Keep in mind, Eragon, that no one thinks himself a villain, and few make decisions they think are wrong. A person may dislike his choice, but he will stand by it because, even in the worst circumstances, he believes that it was the best option available to him at the time." Christopher Paolini

----

IX.

"I am beginning to think that your mother does not know that we are here," Claire worried as she pushed Jackie along in her carriage through the entrance to Hyde Park.

Susanna had told her sister-in-law the whitest of lies to ensure that she would accompany her. "Mama knows I went to call on you," replied Susanna. "And what is wrong with taking my sweet niece on an outing on a fine summer's day?"

Susanna kept her eyes peeled as she watched out for Mr Whitfield. The faire was still about and plenty of people had flocked to the park that morning.

"Susanna," protested Claire, reaching out for Susanna's forearm to stop her.

Susanna turned around and looked into Claire's bright eyes. Her dark brows were furrowed with worry.

"Lord Bertram called upon me this morning," Susanna confessed, immediately seeing the disapproval on Claire's face at the mention of the man. "His hand was injured, and he told me that he had assaulted a negro man. From what he said, I believe it to be Mr Whitfield, the rider we saw at the faire."

Claire's lips parted with shock. "Assaulted him? Why?"

"Because Mr Whitfield has the nerve to look different," Susanna practically growled. "No," she stopped herself. "No, Lord Bertram behaved in such a way because his mind is too small to appreciate that the world is bigger than this city, and the people in it. It frightens him, and that makes him a coward." Susanna exhaled. "I have to know that Mr Whitfield is alright. Please, do not betray me to Mama."

"Susanna, I would never," promised Claire, "though I do not need to give your mother any more reason to disapprove of me," she added quietly.

Susanna practically scoffed. "Claire, don't be ridiculous. You gave Mama a precious, perfect grandchild. She will worship the ground you walk on." Susanna glanced over her sleeping niece in the carriage, before her eyes returned forward.

The two women continued on into the park, making their way to the area that had been reserved for Diego's display. To Susanna's shock, it was practically dismantled already, with only a few labouring men remaining to clear away the tents and props. None of them were Mr Whitfield.

"Oh, no," whispered Susanna. "How ever will I find him?"

"Certainly, all is not lost," assured Claire. "We shall ask one of the workers. Or I shall. I don't suppose it would be right for you to approach a man without an introduction. I suspect this was why you wanted me along on this little excursion."

"I wanted you because I trust you," insisted Susanna. "You're my friend, Claire, and I haven't many of those."

"My lady, good morning."

Susanna recognised the familiar voice behind her and turned to see the rounded face of Mr Leonard Bishop. His brown eyes were particularly delighted as he smiled warmly at her. Susanna breathed a sigh of relief in seeing Mr Whitfield's performing companion.

"Good morning, Mr Bishop," replied Claire. "I am glad to have run into you. Please allow me to introduce my brother's wife, Lady Claire Beresford." Susanna could not recall if they had been introduced at the faire.

Mr Bishop bowed politely to Claire. "My pleasure, milady." He turned his attention back to Susanna. "My absolute pleasure." He grinned.

"Is Mr Whitfield alright?" Susanna asked anxiously. "I have reason to believe he was assaulted last night, and I must know if he was injured."

A few expressions flicked through Mr Bishop's eyes, though they passed before Susanna could discern what they were. He did frown, and his mouth downturned as he nodded forlornly. "Yes, yes I am afraid he was set upon last night. Wretched, wretched fiends they were. But I cannot tell you how it warms this old heart to know that you care, milady." Mr Bishop placed a hand over the left of his chest. "It really does. And I know Alex will be so pleased to know that you care. So pleased."

Susanna gasped as she realised that it was a group that attacked Mr Whitfield. They ought to be arrested!

"Is Mr Whitfield very badly hurt, Mr Bishop?" Claire insisted upon knowing.

"He is a wounded soul, milady," replied Mr Bishop, though I am certain that a visit from a certain Lady Susanna would improve his spirits

Susanna was only growing frustrated. Why was Mr Bishop speaking in roundabout riddles? She wanted a straight answer, and it seemed the only way she could set her mind at ease was if she did see Mr Whitfield for herself. "Where is he?" she demanded to know.

Mr Bishop was only too happy to relay the address of the inn to Susanna and Claire, and he wished them a satisfying journey.

As Susanna and Claire made their way back to the road, Claire murmured, "Was it just me, or do you think that Mr Bishop seemed a little to cheerful the morning after his friend was hurt?"

Susanna couldn't even begin to formulate a reply as she had forgotten everything about the encounter save for the address.

***

The street on which the inn resided was lined with public houses and taverns and was the perfect place for drunken men to congregate of a night-time. Susanna could only imagine the state of it the time of night that Mr Whitfield would have been walking down it after meeting with her, and horrid guilt began to contort her stomach.

"Susanna, you must wait out here with Jackie," instructed Claire. "You cannot be seen entering such a place and asking after any man."

Susanna placed her hands on the handles of Jackie's baby carriage and offered Claire a terribly thankful smile. Claire then slipped inside the entrance of the inn, leaving Susanna alone with Jackie on the side of the street. As she waited, she looked down at her young niece, and appreciated the sweet, lacy bonnet that covered her white blonde tufts of hair. Her cheeks were rosy and full, and she looked so peaceful in her slumber.

The door to the inn opened and closed every so often with patrons coming and going. Every time it did, Susanna's breath caught in her throat in anticipation. How she longed to poke her head inside.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened again once more and Claire stepped out, hurrying over to reclaim her child, as Mr Whitfield exited behind her.

Though it had barely been twelve hours since she had last laid eyes on Alexander Whitfield, Susanna found herself once again taken aback by the sheer size of him. She had never met a man his equal for height or brawn. She surveyed his figure as quickly and as thoroughly as she could and was relieved to find that she could not see any grievous deformities from his attack, but that was not to say he was not hurt. As he moved, she noticed that he walked stiffly. He held himself rather rigidly, as though it was his back giving him pain.

When Susanna locked eyes with him, she saw what looked like regret. Susanna supposed she deserved that. He had to have been regretting meeting her the night before. Had he been safely indoors, this would not have happened.

"I am so sorry!" Susanna practically cried as soon as he was in earshot.

Mr Whitfield looked a little startled as he paused in his approach. "I truly wonder at why you keep doing that," he murmured.

"What?" stressed Susanna.

"I have never met a woman who apologises as much as you," remarked Mr Whitfield, "particularly when the sin is not your own."

Susanna quickly tried to remember how many times she had apologised, but then decided it was silly. "Are you alright?"

"You should not have come here," Mr Whitfield then said quietly, looking down at Susanna with intent in his dark eyes.

"I had to," insisted Susanna. "We went to Hyde Park at first but Mr Bishop –"

"Mr Bishop?" he suddenly snapped. "You spoke with Len?"

Susanna frowned as she nodded. He didn't seem pleased that she had spoken with his friend and it confused her. "He confirmed what I had suspected ..." she trailed off before starting her sentence over. "Please, I know what Lord Bertram did to you. Will you tell me if you are seriously hurt? Are you in a great deal of pain?"

Mr Whitfield seemed to take a breath as his expression softened. "This is not great pain, milady," was all he said in reply.

Susanna then understood that to mean that Mr Whitfield had known great pain, and an assault by a drunken mob did not even hold a candle to what he had endured. She resisted wincing.

"Well, why didn't you fight back?" Susanna demanded to know. "Lord Bertram had not a scratch on him," save for his hand, which was entirely his own doing. "You ought to have put him in his place, the foul gargoyle of a man."

To Susanna's surprise, Mr Whitfield chuckled. He was laughing at her. Her cheeks flushed red.

"Fight back?" He shook his head with amusement. "My lady, I prefer my neck without a noose."

Susanna was growing frustrated. "No, you are misunderstanding. You would not have been punished as you were not the instigator," she retorted. "You are allowed to protect yourself!"

"No," said Mr Whitfield, rather bluntly. "No, I am not. If I had laid a hand on one of those men, even in defence, I would hang, because they are white gentlemen, and I am not."

Susanna's words vanished from her mouth as her lips parted in shock. That couldn't be true, could it? What sort of justice was that? It wasn't justice at all. It was practically primeval!

"I am alright, milady," Mr Whitfield said finally, and softly. "I am really humbled that you have come here to see after my welfare. It really was not necessary. We already said our farewells, remember?"

Susanna did remember. They had said goodbye, and for knowing this man for such a short period of time, it felt too soon, and frankly quite wrong, to sever their acquaintance. But she knew it would happen. Their carriage home was leaving on Wednesday after all.

"Could I write to you?" she suddenly asked. "If I did, would you write to me?"

Mr Whitfield's brows rose briefly in surprise before his eyes darted to the ground with a bashful sort of shame. "I am afraid that would be quite impossible, milady."

"Why?" asked Susanna.

He wouldn't meet her eye and Susanna quickly realised why he was feeling so embarrassed, and she immediately felt shame for putting him in this position. He couldn't read or write. Of course, he couldn't. She felt so callous in forgetting that he had not spent his youth with tutors and governesses and in finishing schools as she had.

"You ought to go now," he urged, finally bringing his eyes back to hers. "I might not be able to, but you can. Protect yourself, milady. Promise me that you will."

Susanna felt Claire's hand on her back, and she was suddenly reminded that they were not engaged in a private conversation. "I will," she breathed, though she had no idea why she needed to make such a promise.

Mr Whitfield turned his back on both women and stiffly walked back towards the door of the inn. He briefly turned his neck to look over his shoulder one last time before he disappeared inside.

"Susanna, what is going on between you two?" Claire asked curiously.

Susanna swallowed. "Nothing," she replied.

"It certainly doesn't seem like nothing," Claire mused cautiously.

"Do you share Lord Bertram's view?" Susanna snapped, turning on her sister-in-law. "Does his skin frighten you?"

Claire's blue eyes narrowed. "No, Susanna," she said firmly. "The fact that he is a man and you know very little about him frightens me. Even the men we think we know can ..." she paused, her tongue tying. "Take heed of his words, won't you? Protect yourself. You have done such a good job of it against the Lord Bertrams of this season. Do not lose your good sense to your good heart."

----

Hope you enjoyed it! 

It's officially school holidays, hallelujah! I so desperately needed this break. I was running on nothing. I will be able to update a little more frequently, however I'm not going to push myself to update daily as it's too exhausting. 

I hope you're all having a nice Easter so far. Mine has been pretty chill in gorging on all the chocolate my kids gifted me and watching the football. My boys had a 75 point win today yahooooooo!!!

I've also been reading a lot more and am currently on Book 2 of the ACOTAR series. Really hoping this one picks up because I found the first one to be very average. I'm trying to broaden my reading interests because the only genre I enjoy is regency romance, preferably authored by women who died 200 years ago. It's a very niche genre and I get stuck in my ways so I've jumped into YA Fantasy to push myself. I read the Blood and Ash series and I thought it was okay as well. I've been getting recommendations from BookTok and considering I'm not loving them as much as those people, I'm thinking my niche genre is just my happy place and I should read Persuasion again for the 13,000th time hahaha.

I think it's the men that put me off. Like these heroines are such strong women, and yet every hero has to be an absolute arrogant asshole who's described as "the most beautiful man I'd ever seen" like can we leave toxic men in 2020? Give me a regency hero any day.

Alright, skin care time and then bed to read ;) 

Vote and comment!