"When two souls are one, they hear each other, even in silence." Matshona Dhliwayo

----

XXIX.

Cressie's heartbeat rung in her ears as she watched Jem Denham retreat from the bedroom, his bedroom. It had not escaped her attention as to what room she had been placed in. The very memories that they had created in this room were entirely intoxicating and quickly began to contribute to the overwhelming feelings that were consuming her in that moment.

As soon as the door closed, tears began to stream down Cressie's face, her eyes producing more and more than could seem humanly possible. Every part of her wanted to scream for him, to call him back. It was Jem, her Jem. Jem had once, briefly and entirely, been every good thing in her life.

Cressie quickly buried her face into the pillow next to her and screamed, sobbing as a scent she had long forgotten filled her senses. Her screams were muffled by the silk and feathers, but the fabric absorbed her uncontrollable tears.

Please, come back, Cressie willed into the darkness, though no words escaped her mouth. Please, come back and see me. Come back and notice what has become of me. Find me. Help me.

But Cressie remained alone. She was alone as she always was. Never physically. Cressie was rarely alone physically. Her gaoler was always near to keep an eye on her. But the isolation was crippling. She was isolated from anything and anyone. She could not even speak to her own mother. It was crippling to the point where it had robbed Cressie of who she was. She couldn't speak, couldn't eat, couldn't dress how she wanted. She was not permitted her own money or to travel without permission, and she could not even send a letter without it being read –

Cressie's head suddenly turned to the writing desk in the corner of Jem's bedroom. Even in the dim candlelight, she could see the papers atop of it. Cressie felt fear and trepidation before the idea even crossed her mind. The rules were so ingrained into her that she felt sick before she had even formed a plan.

She had been broken in, broken down so many times, as though she were one of Everett's poor horses. Her will and spirit and determination had been erased from her being after every little rebellion. And as much as a younger Cressie would have been shocked to see the ghost of the woman she had become, it had worked. Everett's conditioning worked. Cressie lacked any fight. To fight made her afraid.

Cressie looked upon the writing desk with fear. She saw an opportunity, and yet her legs did not move to get up and out of the bed. She whimpered as her weakness overcame her and Cressie through herself back into the pillows in shame.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Cressie's heart stopped.

Jem. Could it be? While she had not been able to cry out, had he heard her cries, her pleas anyway?

But her hopes were dashed the next moment as two housemaids entered the room. One carried a food tray and the other went directly to the fireplace to begin building it up.

"There you are, ma'am," the housemaid said as she placed the tray down across Cressie's legs in the bed. "Eat up, and your strength will be returned in no time."

"Is there anyone out in the hallway?" Cressie asked shakily, completely disregarding what the housemaid had said. Her voice was thick with emotion, evidence that she had been crying, and she shivered at the sound.

"No, ma'am." The young maid shook her head. "Did you send for someone? Would you like for us to summon someone for you?"

"No," Cressie replied all too quickly. Her eyes fell to the dishes that had been brought up for her and her heart sank. It looked like a collection of puddings from the ball, as well as a cut gammon sandwich made from one of the main courses of the evening. There was a class of jelly and cream, and a perfectly decorated chocolate torte, and three Queen's biscuits. What was delectably presented food made Cressie's stomach turn, and she could barely stomach the sight of it.

She could hear Everett's voice in her head if even one biscuit touched her lips, belittling her and criticising her, mocking her. Cressie's lower lip trembled, and she tried as hard as she could to get a handle on it so as not to cry in front of the maids.

Retreat.

The word repeated itself inside of Cressie's mind. The overwhelming emotions that were flooding her mind, that were terrifying her and crippling her, made her want to retreat to what was familiar. It wasn't safe, but it was familiar.

"Would you be so kind as to ask the butler for my carriage to be brought around?" Cressie asked, gently pushing the tray away and out of her sight, before she pushed back the bedclothes. She was still lying in her ballgown, which was now terribly crumpled, but she did not care. "I am quite recovered, and I wish to leave. I need to find my niece."

***

"Are you sure you are alright, Cressie?" Zara asked her again for the seventeenth time that morning while they sat down to breakfast.

"Yes," Cressie assured her impatiently. "It was terribly hot in that ballroom and I was momentarily overcome. I am perfectly alright."

"Should we send for Uncle Everett at least?"

Cressie's back stiffened as she shook her head. "No ... I would not want to worry him. He is terribly busy, and as you can see. I am fine." Cressie continued to eat her egg knowing that Zara's worried eyes were firmly upon her. "You need not trouble yourself!" she exclaimed as she set down her spoon. "I am fine! I am, however, terribly ashamed about ruining your first experience at a ball." Genuinely, this was not how Cressie had wanted to see Zara look and behave the morning after a ball when they were to expect callers. Zara appeared as though she would not have cared if five and thirty gentlemen appeared at the door.

"Your health is more important than a silly ball," Zara insisted.

Cressie felt a genuine smile turn up the corners of her lips as she felt the care and compassion from her young niece. How she could ever be a relation of Everett's, Cressie would never understand. She knew how important the Season was to Zara.

Cressie was determined to refocus herself. The previous evening had been a shock to the senses. It had been overwhelming to say the least. Seeing Jem again had been something that she had never expected. The feelings that had come along with setting eyes upon him again had been incredible and devastating. To yearn for help and to have no power to seek it was entirely demoralising to the soul.

And so Cressie had retreated. She had retreated to her prison. But it was here that she knew the rhythm. She knew what to expect. She knew what to say and how to be and if she did those things, everything would be fine.

She would be fine.

"We must get you ready for your callers. I imagine the first of many will be here soon," Cressie theorised, changing the subject. "Was there a particular gentleman who caught your eye last night?"

Zara appeared a little uneasy as moving away from the topic of Cressie's health, but nevertheless, she humoured her aunt.

"Well, I quite liked Mr Avery," she confessed coyly. "He was terribly attentive and complimentary. "He told me that my eyes were the colour of forget-me-nots, and that he was not likely to forget that he had seen them."

"How charming," mused Cressie, recalling the fact that Mr Avery's family were in some financial distress and that his marriage would need to be a rich one. Cressie wondered if he had also compared the eyes of any other lady to flowers the previous night.

"There was another gentleman, however," Zara continued.

"Mr Dixon?" asked Cressie. "You danced with him, did you not?"

"No," replied Zara, before she quickly shook her head, "Oh, yes, I did dance with Mr Dixon, but he was not the gentleman to whom I was referring."

"Oh?"

Colour began to trickle into Zara's cheeks and Cressie's brows furrowed.

"I don't actually know his name. We were not introduced, but I do know he was the brother of our hostess." Zara smiled wistfully as her eyes widened. "Oh, Cressie, you should have seen the way he swooped in to rescue you. He was quite the gallant hero!"

While Zara was flushed with colour, Cressie felt all the blood drain from her face.

"He was so handsome and mysterious. He did not dance with anyone that I recall." Zara shook her head bashfully. "I am certain that he did not notice me at all."

Cressie, who had been in the midst of masticating on a piece of egg, inhaled a large lump and began to choke. The air completely vanished from her lungs as she leapt up from the table, coughing and spluttering.

And yet, while she was physically suffocating, the only thoughts that could pass through her mind was the panic that her niece had expressed interest in her Jem. That was how she thought of him. Hers.

Choke. Mine. Choke. Mine.

Her mind would not function with any semblance of logic as the tears pooled in her eyes. Meanwhile, a footman had rushed to her aid as Zara screamed in panic. Cressie felt a great blow on her back from the footman's fist, propelling her forward with a great cough. Disgustingly, the egg that had been lodged in her throat flew out of her mouth and bounced down the table in a soggy mess.

Cressie nearly collapsed, leaning forward on the tables as she rested on her arms. She took several deep breaths to collect herself and to settle her racing mind.

"Goodness, Cressie! Are you alright?" Zara exclaimed. "I think you are determined to frighten me to death! I fear London is not doing any wonders for your health." Zara placed a comforting hand on Cressie's back where the footman had no doubt left a bruise.

"Shall I inform the butler to send for a doctor, ma'am?" the footman asked cautiously.

"No, no," said Cressie dismissively. "Just a little breakfast mishap. I am quite well. I thank you for your assistance." She took a final breath and then sat back down in her chair.

Zara returned to her chair as well.

Cressie looked up into the caring blue eyes of her niece. Like her, Jem also possessed blue eyes, but they were quite different in hue. Perhaps she was biased, but eyes that were like oceans were unparalleled. But she would never deny that Zara was extraordinarily pretty. She was a beautiful young lady with exactly the spirit that Cressie had once enjoyed.

Zara was terribly naïve in her youth, but she was a very good soul. She had a great deal of compassion in her heart, and she would, indeed, be a good wife to whomever she chose.

It was selfish, really, for Cressie's immediately reaction to be so possessive. Jem was not hers. On the contrary, she belonged to Everett Delaney. Cressie had made that choice five years earlier to save her mother. Zara would never be put in that position. Cressie would ensure that she chose entirely to suit herself.

And Cressie could attest before God that if Jem was Zara's choice, then she would have found a truly decent man. Lord, even the thought brought an ache to her stomach. But she shook it away.

"His name is Mr Jem Denham," Cressie informed Zara, her voice a little raspy. "The man you are speaking of, the one who rescued me. Mr Denham is his name."

Could Zara hear the pain in Cressie's voice as her tongue spoke Jem's name? Or had Cressie yet mastered the skill of masking her grief?

"Mr Denham," repeated Zara, smiling at the knowledge. "Are you acquainted with him?" Her brows rose with curiosity.

"Yes," Cressie replied as casually as she could muster. "Years ago. My ... my mother and I once lived in the village from whence Mr Denham hails. We knew each other ... very briefly."

"Really?" Zara sounded very eager. "Did you ever dance with him?"

Cressie's mind involuntarily returned to the bedroom where she had laid the night before. The walls of that bedroom held the shreds of Cressie's reputation together. "Oh, we might've once," she murmured. "It was so long ago, I hardly remember."

Before Zara could ask another follow up question, they were interrupted by Imelda, who entered the dining room carrying two bouquets of flowers, as well as a card.

"It begins," said Cressie, watching as Zara's questions disappeared from her mind. Her eyes widened with delight as she took in the lovely arrangement of blooms.

As Imelda set the flowers down, she delivered the note to Zara while simultaneously removing Cressie's breakfast plate from in front of her. "A letter has been sent to Mr Delaney informing him of your condition, Mrs Delaney." Her words did not sound as though they were meant to be reassuring, or even courteous. It was as though Imelda was informing Cressie that her husband would still know all despite the distance between them.

Cressie said nothing as her stomach twisted. She focussed her attention on Zara as she used her butter knife to break the seal on the note she had received.

As she unfolded the letter, Zara smiled as she told Cressie, "These are from Mr Avery. He has sent you flowers also, Cressie. He writes to wish you well! He asks if he may call upon me this morning."

Mr Avery's token was not the only favour showered upon Zara that morning. Before eleven o'clock, every surface in the drawing room of the house was quite covered in floral arrangements, each seemingly grander and more expensive than the last. Cressie assumed her role as chaperone dutifully as the gentlemen arrived alongside the flowers and gifts.

It seemed that every young man who had been introduced to Zara the night before had come to call. Mr Avery and Mr Dixon had both attended, as well as a succession of other very nice-looking gentlemen. Cressie pretended to occupy herself with her needlework by the window as the men showered Zara with compliments and questions, asking after her interests and accomplishments.

She was asked to display her talents at the pianoforte by one gentleman, while another asked to hear Zara sing. His praise after hearing Zara's attempts to reach a soprano note told Cressie immediately that the lady's dowry was more than attractive to him.

Nevertheless, Zara appeared blissfully happy to be in receipt of such attention.

But Cressie's attention was entirely captured when the butler showed Zara's next caller into the drawing room shortly after three o'clock that afternoon. They stared at one another, each having a thousand things to say without parting their lips.

What was Jem doing here?

Cressie froze as her eyes flicked to Zara, who appeared entirely delighted at the appearance of the man who seemed to have been her favourite from the evening before. Had Jem come for Zara?

Zara darted to Cressie's side and collected her from her chair, forcing her to abandon her needlework. "Introduce us!" Zara hissed under her breath.

Cressie was practically pulled to the reception area of the drawing room, her legs dragging almost to the point where she tripped over her feet. Her mouth had gone dry from the shock as her heart flipped and flopped in her chest.

Jem carried no flowers or gifts, and the butler had not presented them with a calling card. He was there by himself, his hands behind his back as he looked between the two women with an anxious expression on his face. His eyes, however, reverted solely to Cressie. He looked over her, inspected her, the concern evident.

"Forgive my intrusion," Jem said formally, however, Cressie could hear the plea in his tone. He was asking her for forgiveness after she had dismissed him the night before. "I had to make certain that you were well." His voice was soft, and yet a little hoarse. He sounded as though he had meant to stay away, to obey her, but he could not. "As the hostess' brother, it is my duty, of course," he added, seemingly for Zara's benefit.

Or perhaps Cressie was in denial.

Zara subtly elbowed Cressie in her ribs as she had been so startled that she had forgotten to respond.

"I ... I am fine," she stammered.

"Fine?" Jem repeated with a furrowed brow. He looked upon her with an even sterner, more anxious gaze, as though he was making no effort to shield –

Cressie stopped the thoughts immediately. It was entirely speculation and she was only torturing herself with the notion of his care. "May I introduce Miss Zara Delaney," she said, her voice firmer as she brought Zara forward. Zara's smile was most pleased. "Zara, this is Mr Denham."

Zara curtseyed, and Jem appeared quite startled at the sudden change in Cressie attention that he fumbled a bow after a long moment.

Zara did not seem to notice. "I am delighted to formally make your acquaintance, Mr Denham. I must thank you properly for your gallantry yesterday evening. I am entirely indebted to you after the service you rendered my aunt."

"Oh ... not at all, Miss Delaney," Jem rebuffed, shaking his head. "Though, of course, I am happy to make your acquaintance as well. I am just happy to know that your aunt is ... fine."

Jem's ocean eyes bore holes into Cressie's that she could not hold his gaze. He was looking at her, trying to see, trying to know. Only yesterday had Cressie wanted to scream into the darkness for him to see what had happened to her. But today she had retreated. Cressie looked away.

"My aunt tells me that you once knew each other in your village, Mr Denham," Zara continued, blissfully ignorant. "You must tell me what Cressie was like when she was my age, or was she always so serious?"

"Y-yes, we did know each other once," Jem confirmed. Cressie could still feel his eyes despite not looking. "I would not ever have used the word 'serious' to describe your aunt."

"Really?" Zara exclaimed. "Please, won't you come and sit down on the sofa, Mr Denham," she invited. "I would love to hear more of your experiences in your village."

Zara turned to go back to the settees, leaving Cressie and Jem momentarily out of her earshot. Cressie dared to look up at him, just as he whispered, "I know you sent me away, but I had to come. I had to check on you, to see if you were alright."

"I am fine as you see," Cressie uttered in reply.

"Cressie," Jem pleaded softly.

"The unmarried young lady desires your attention, Mr Denham." Cressie's voice unwittingly cracked as she spoke, so she quickly turned on her heel and walked back to her chair at the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Jem slowly move to join Zara on the sofa.

"Would you care for some tea, Mr Denham?"

Cressie stared at her embroidery as she swallowed loudly.

"Please," he allowed quietly.

"Tell me about your village. Where was it that you grew up?"

----

Dear, dear Zara ... something tells me that will only lead to heartache :(

Hope you enjoyed it!! 

I drove to Adelaide and back over the past weekend by myself. It was a long way to be in the car by myself but the drive back I actually enjoyed. But I think that's in the anticipation of reaching home! Nothing beats the Melbourne skyline at night after time away. And then when you see the city and know you're only twenty minutes from home after 8 hours in the car it's all the more sweeter! 

I stopped for lunch at this bakery in the middle of nowhere and the guy behind the counter asked me about the stones in my rings, and I happily told him that I wore one ring with a London blue topaz stone, and one with a black onyx stone ;) 

OG readers will know hehe. Honestly, my rings are my little inside joke to myself. And only you guys would get it!! 

But I hope you all had a fabulous weekend. 

Vote and comment!! Xxx