Mary feared, her heart thumping as her gaze swept through the graveyard. A faint fog hung in the air, making the place look sinister and causing a shiver to run through her bones.
She gulped, her eyes searching until she indeed found his silhouette nearing a big orchard that stood in the middle of the grave, at a distance from where she was standing. This meant that if Mary wanted to follow him, she would have to pass through multiple graves.
She shrank at the thought. The only time she had visited the grave was when she was a child, during her mother's sister, Aunt Em's burial.
Children were not supposed to attend, but little Marybeth, curious as ever, had sneaked into her parents' carriage. It wasn't until the carriage had already left the mansion that her parents noticed her, her small frame perched at the end of the seat.
Her experience at the grave that day had not been pleasant; she could still vividly remember it. Since that day, at just seven years old, she had never wished to return to the grave again.
Marybeth stood, watching his back. If he went past the orchard, she would lose him, possibly forever. He might even venture far away to another country, and her name would be tarnishied. By then, no gentleman would likely marry her, and her father would either disown her, confine her to her room, or worst of all, allow Mr. John to take her as his mistress.
No!
Passing through the graves seemed a better option than what awaited her once dawn broke. She steeled herself to endure the eerie place until she reached her goal.
After taking a few deep breaths, Mary walked through the gates. The stillness of the night intensified the fear she felt, but she kept her gaze fixed forward, staring at the silhouette of the man she was approaching.
She successfully passed a grave carved with a towering stone that loomed over her. The grave bore a name, but she did not pause to read it. Other graves, covered with earth, were nearby, some marked with crosses. Perhaps these were the resting places of the less fortunate in society. It was a reflection of how their world operated – where the rich were respected even in death. "Tsk," she scoffed.
As she walked past another grave, she paused, staring at it. Her amber eyes shifted with a fleeting emotion. This grave did not tower over her like the first one she had passed, but it was still adorned with a carved stone with the name "Emma Hunt 1860" etched into it. Memories of Aunt Em came rushing back to her - the only memento she had left of her dear aunt.
They were precious memories, for Aunt Em had been the one she had played with when her parents were so invested in their business. She could vividly remember how she sat on another stony grave on the day of her burial, while her grave was being dug.
Tears fell from her eyes as she watched what was happening, yet she did not wail or react like her mother, who had almost jumped into the grave when her body was placed there. She simply sat there, unmoving, reflecting on the good memories she had shared with her aunt.
Mary stepped back, a tear falling from her eye. She quickly dried it up and went after the man again.
Letting the memories she had left with Aunt Em rest at the back of her mind, for the more she thought of it, the more pain it would bring. She hurried towards him, fearing that if she slowed down, he would disappear.
However, as she ran, she heard a howling sound so eerie it caused her to jump. Her eyes wandered about; perhaps it was her imagination, she thought, but it still brought fear, especially because this was what happened that day at the graveyard. While she had sat at a distance, she had heard the howling sound as if someone was watching her. It didn't take long before she saw an object resting in front of her.
"Ah! It took you so long for you to notice me," she came back to the present when she heard a voice in front of her.
Looking ahead, she saw another man in a suit, much shorter than the one she had followed. It was hard to see his face in the darkness. Mary walked further, raising her gown to move faster towards them.
"Why are you following me?" the handsome man she had followed said with an irritated tone.
The shorter man laughed, "I have been following you for... ah!" He winced when the handsome man pinned him against the orchard.
Frantic, Mary ran towards them, wondering what must have caused the altercation. The handsome man held his throat as if to strangle him, his voice icy cold when he spoke, "How dare you follow me when you are of no help." He sounded upset, on the verge of killing him at that instant.
Mary feared, rushing towards them, her chest heaving wildly. "What are you doing?" she yelled from a distance.
The handsome man paused, but his hand was still on the man's neck. Then he turned, staring at her with a deep frown. Mary almost shrank at the look on his face; he appeared as though he wanted to murder someone. However, she stood, feigning being unaffected by his expression.
The shorter man, with difficulty, craned his neck to look at her. Despite his situation, amusement flashed in his eyes. Now that Mary saw him clearly, she noted he was handsome as well, with blonde hair and a fringe. His eyes were dark and calm.
"Who is your companion now, McKenna?" he asked.
The handsome man turned back to him, hitting him against the tree branch. Mary ran towards them, not stopping despite the intent look he had given her. When she reached them, she held his suit firmly, yelling at him as if scolding a child, "Let go of him; you will kill him."