"How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure." Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo 

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XXXII.

Cressie was frozen still, her mouth agape as she stared at Zara with wide-eyed shock. Her expression, Cressie was certain, was mirrored in Zara's own astonishment at her discovery upon entering the flat above Belle's shop.

The ever-present fear that existed within her paralysed her, perhaps even stopping her heart from beating. Whatever little minute ounce of hope that Cressie had accidentally manufactured had vanished, and she felt like the hands of Hades were reaching up to seize her, and to take her back where she belonged.

Jem, perhaps, felt the panic and fear from Cressie, and his arm tightened protectively around her. But this did nothing to settle Cressie's dread. She could not look away from Zara.

"I'm sorry," apologised Belle emphatically, her voice wracked with guilt, "I tried to stop her."

"Miss Delaney," Jem said, his voice alarmingly cool and calm, "would you please sit down?"

Zara was just as paralysed to the spot as Cressie was, and it took Belle leading her to the second sofa to get her to move. Zara nearly tripped over her own feet on the way, and she rather ungracefully plopped down into seat, her blue eyes never leaving the scene in front of her. Belle took a seat next to Zara, though she was merely resting on the edge of the cushion. She looked about ready to run to the door and block it if Zara meant to escape out into the street and shout this secret affair at the tops of her lungs.

But it wasn't an affair! It wasn't. It was innocent. Cressie and Jem were both innocent. They were both victims of this wicked place, and their wicked customs and rules.

"Your aunt has done nothing wrong," Jem began firmly. "Cressie and I have known one another for a long time, and –"

"You can't tell him!"

It took Cressie a moment to realise that the horridly panicked shriek of a sentence had come from her lips. Her tone so shocked Zara that she jumped.

"You can't!" she willed again, seeming to find her voice, no matter how terrifyingly shaky it was. "Please, you don't understand. You can't tell him."

"Cressie," Zara stammered, her voice equally as shaky, "he is not your husband." She lifted a trembling finger to point at Jem. "My uncle is. What are you doing?"

Cressie didn't have the words to explain. She didn't know how to explain this situation without revealing Everett's true nature to Zara, and how would that be to ruin whatever bond her niece had with her uncle?

Jem, however, had no such qualms.

"Your uncle is a blackguard and a wretch," he spat angrily. "He does not warrant the title of man, let alone the honour of husband."

Zara had probably never heard a man speak with such a vicious tone before, and she was visibly affronted. She recoiled into the stuffing of the sofa and all colour drained from her face. Her blue eyes searched Cressie, trying to find the truth in Jem's accusations.

"I cannot believe this," Zara whispered.

"You can," Jem urged forcefully. "Think back to our conversation," he prompted. "What did I say about her? What did I tell you about Cressie?"

Cressie was momentarily confused but recalled the brief conversation that Zara had shared with Jem when he had come to call. She had chosen to amuse herself on the opposite side of the large room, purposefully humming to herself so as not to hear one iota of flirtation from either party.

"I asked you what Cressie was like when you knew her in your village," Zara recalled quietly.

"And what did I say?"

Zara was trembling, her lips chattering, and she couldn't speak.

Jem answered his own question. "I said that she was the sun in human form. A bright, warm light, filled with life and wonder." His tone was not reflective of the beautiful compliment that he had just paid Cressie. He was furious. "Do you see that person here?"

Cressie's eyes shut as Jem's words felt like a blow. She understood that he was proving a point, but perhaps she did not realise how altered she was until now. Her seventeen-year-old self would not recognise the quivering, weak, little waif that she had become.

"No," Zara said weakly. "No, I don't."

The four in the room were silent for a moment as the reality of what had just been discovered settled upon them all. Jem, after all, had not long learned the truth before Zara.

"Cressie, tell me, is this true?" Zara's eyes had begun to fill with tears as she asked the question. "Has my uncle hurt you?"

Cressie felt herself fill with hesitation, the fear that was second nature, once again began to cripple her.

"Take it back," Belle implored, repeating the words that she had said to Cressie downstairs. "Do not let him take one thing more from you."

And so, Cressie nodded, confirming the truth to her niece. "Yes, it's true," she whispered. "All of it. Everett has hurt me ... he has hurt me in every way that a man can hurt a woman. He has stripped me of everything that once made me me. He is cruel, Zara. He is a cruel man. He enjoys, thrives off of control. He has controlled every moment of my life for five years, from what I wear, to limiting my correspondence, to –"

"To what you eat as well?" Zara guessed fearfully.

Cressie regretfully nodded. "Yes, he has tightly controlled what I eat."

Jem's hold on Cressie did not relent once as she relayed her tale for the second time that day, though she did protect Zara's innocent ears with some of the horrible details. Despite her fears and panic and anxiety, Cressie could not deny that there was a small feeling of catharsis in unburdening herself to the people for whom she cared.

Zara cried silent sobs as she heard every word. Tear continued to fall freely down her face, though she never looked away as she listened intently.

"What must you think of me?" Zara asked, ashamed, once Cressie had concluded. "How ridiculous you all must see me, fretting about over suitors and dresses and hair ribbons, when all the while you have been suffering!"

"Zara, please," implored Cressie, "those are the things someone your age ought to be focussing on! And I do take my responsibility as your chaperone very seriously in ensuring that you find a man who loves you incomparably."

"Someone like Mr Denham, you mean."

Cressie stiffened, and Jem seemed to do the same beside her. Did ... did Zara still think of Jem for herself?

Zara seemed to read Cressie's horrified and affronted expression immediately, and her eyes widened. "Oh, dear, no!" she exclaimed. "I meant, simply, that I ought to find a gentleman who might love me the way that Mr Denham loves you." Zara took a breath, before saying, "I did suspect it, you know, on your part, Mr Denham. Cressie hides her true feelings well, but –"

"Not as well as you might think," Jem interjected. "Cressie's in there." His statement brought her eyes to his, and he smiled at her reassuringly. After everything that had been said and discovered, Jem smiled at her with care and compassion. "I can see you."

"Did you love each other back then?" Zara then asked curiously, her voice vulnerable.

"I loved her." And then Jem waited, not answering for the both of them. Cressie wondered if he was unsure of how she had felt about him five years ago.

"I loved him," she confirmed softly.

A smile tugged at the corner of Jem's lips.

"Well, then why would you marry Uncle Everett?" asked Zara. "Why would you not marry each other?" Zara posed the question as though it was the simplest decision in the world.

And really, it was. Love and happiness ought to be the route motivation behind every decision made in one's life. Duty was a wicked thing, indeed.

"Because I was a poor steward, and Cressie was expected to marry a rich gentleman," explained Jem simply.

***

Jem had never courted a woman in his life. Not properly, anyway. His clandestine excursions with Cressie all those years ago could not be considered a proper courtship, even if he wanted it to be.

Which was why it was so odd that his first proper courtship was with a young lady he had absolutely no intention of marrying.

And yet, here he was, walking through Hyde Park with Miss Zara Delaney on his arm, in full view of every other important debutante and gentleman in London, letting them all know that Miss Delaney had selected her suitor for the foreseeable future.

And she had. This had been Zara's idea. She had volunteered to pretend to be rather infatuated with Jem so that he would have a reason to visit the house, and a reason to be near Cressie. It had also been Zara who had emphatically stated to Cressie that she was not returning to her husband.

Jem, of course, had wanted this. He would have moved heaven and earth to prevent Cressie returning to that beast of a man. But ultimately, Cressie was responsible for her own life. Or at least, Jem wanted her to have the free will to decide.

Zara, however, did not possess that desire.

But Cressie had made that choice. Fearfully, but she had made it. Belle had implored her to take back her life. Jem had refused to let her go. Zara had been the one to provide the opportunity.

The young seventeen-year-old debutante warranted a lot more credit than she was given. When Cressie had worried over Zara's own chances for a match, Zara had replied, "I want to meet the Cressie Mr Denham described to me. If this is what I must do to meet her, then I am happy to pay any price."

Jem knew that it would not be long before half of London viewed him as a deceitful fortune hunter. He was not a gentleman, after all, and he was courting a lady with a very handsome dowry. But he would wear the gossip if it meant being able to call on Zara, and Cressie, each and every day.

Cressie walked a few steps behind them, shielding herself from the sun, and the public gaze, with a white parasol. Zara played her part dutifully, laughing musically at any observation Jem made as though she had been trained to do it. He wondered if that was what girls were taught in those fancy finishing schools.

But Jem's mind was on escape, as it had been from the moment that he had suspected that Cressie was in danger. He needed to get her out. He needed to find an avenue to smuggle her to safety. He needed an ally who would equally move heaven and earth for Cressie.

And while she had once been Jem's foe, and the reason for his first taste of heartbreak, Jem couldn't imagine that Mrs Martin's ambition for Cressie's marriage had ever been this.

Jem stopped on the path and pretended to be admiring the view of The Serpentine, motioning to several of the ducks that were swimming along the surface of the water. He pointed at them with a smile as he stole a glance back at Cressie, who had lifted her parasol ever so slightly.

Her brown eyes were warm, and there was a glimmer, a persistent glimmer, of life in them. Never would he allow that life to be extinguished again. 

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Hope you enjoyed!! 

Zara stans unite. Homegirl's a romantic like the rest of us.

I have the worst munchies right now. It's nearly 1:30am and I am starving. I feel like I could go to the pantry and eat us out of house and home. But I won't. It's probably bad to eat Doritos at this time of night, right? lol

I've been sitting here for 5 minutes and I've decided to go and eat Doritos. 

Okay night everyone!! Vote and comment xxx