by Fiona Miers
In Sarah walked, all beautiful golden skin and hair the color of sunshine. She saw him and made her way over to him the way a compass needle points due north. A lump swelled in his throat and he swallowed against the emotion stuck there.
She curtseyed before him and gave him a cheeky grin. “Your Grace.”
“Your Grace,” he bowed back, grinning back at his beautiful wife.
He caught a green shimmer around her neck and he narrowed his eyes on the horrible necklace around her throat he asked, “Where did that necklace come from?”
“Your mother, she loaned it to me for the party.”
Her hand came up to rest upon the emeralds self-consciously.
Oliver bit back a groan. Why hadn’t he bought her something new to wear for the evening? It was her first night hosting and he hadn’t even thought to recommend she get a new dress. Not that he should have, ladies in his family bought anything they wanted. Perhaps he should have allocated her money to spend on herself every month?
Lifting his gaze from the fashion blunder, he looked into her cautious eyes and forced himself to smile.
“You look beautiful,” he stepped forward and brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing her gloved hand.
“Well, that is what I like to see, Reverend. A man who knows how to treat his wife.”
Oliver rolled his eyes and slowly straightened up as he recognised the loud and rather obnoxious voice of the local Countess.
“The Countess of Tremble and Reverend Holland.” The butler announced, flushing and glancing away when Oliver looked at him. He hadn’t introduced the guests before they had spoken.
Oliver stepped forward and introduced his wife to a dragon he had known his whole life.
“It is lovely to make your acquaintance,” Sarah curtseyed prettily and Oliver grimaced. Sarah needn’t curtsy to any one if she didn’t want to, especially a woman beneath her in rank.
The Countess smiled knowingly and gave Oliver a wink. “It is my dear. I can see Oliver married you for your looks, but what are your connections like?”
At that moment Oliver’s mother and Honoria walked in.
“My father is a vicar from Somerset.”
Her humph was loud in the silent room. “Married a bit below you, didn’t you?”
Oliver’s spine straightened as he placed Sarah’s shaking hand on his arm and drew her close.
“I don’t believe so, my lady,” he drawled.
The woman cackled with laughter.
“Your Grace,” she greeted Oliver’s mother with a short curtsy.
The Dowager nodded back.
“You let Oliver marry someone with no connections?” The Countess asked his mother.
“My son chose his wife, not I.”
Sarah flushed red and Oliver bristled, pulling his wife closer into his side and started walking towards the door.
“Let us stand at the door to greet our guests, my dear,” he said through clenched teeth.
Sarah nodded once and followed his lead. Oliver could only hope the rest of the night would go better.
****
They were all dressed exquisitely, no country gentry these people.
Some of their guests were downright rude, others just curious. There was one girl Sarah’s age that she had hopes could become a friend, but was soon informed that, “I was meant to marry His Grace, how dare he marry you!”
As they were all led into dinner they were escorted by the footmen. Sarah hadn’t been told the hierarchy of her guests so had placed them evenly around the room, putting wives and husbands on opposite sides of the dinner table. She knew that most dinner parties were seated gentleman/lady, but she knew Oliver would enjoy it more to be seated with a man on either side of him, and Sarah placed a woman on either side of her.
When everyone was seated, there was silence for a good five minutes and Sarah drank her whole glass of red wine with shaking hands.
The first course was served and Sarah heard the rather large man to her right make an encouraging remark about the serving size. Happy with herself, Sarah tried to converse with the elderly woman to her right. The woman was stone deaf and Sarah could not bring herself to shout in her ear. The woman to her left spent the whole dinner flirting atrociously with the man next to her, who Sarah knew wasn’t her husband.
By the end of the meal, the table was loudly conversing and Sarah was proud in the knowledge that people seemed to be having a good time. After their beautiful chocolate pudding dessert, that few ladies touched, Oliver called the men to the library for cigars and port, and the Dowager announced that the women would retire to the sitting room.
Sarah flushed at the statement of seniority from her mother-in-law, but kept her chin up and resolutely smiled throughout it all.
“I cannot believe what she served us for dinner,” one of the ladies was hissing at her friend when Sarah entered the room.
“Good enough for the servants,” came the nasty reply.
Sarah looked around and saw her mother-in-law smirking. Her stomach gripped hard, making her food churn unhealthily.
“Weren’t you ever taught how to seat a table for dinner?” A rather tight lipped woman asked her, glaring through her black spectacles.
Sarah recognized her as the wife of the man whom the woman next to her had been flirting with throughout dinner. Blood flowed into her cheeks, making her want to run. She hated how obvious her blushes were, but as the hostess, hiding in a corner wasn’t an option.
“I thought it would be more interesting this way,” Sarah answered honestly. Why was she being attacked for such a simple thing? Did she really have to follow all the rules laid down by these women?
“Interesting?” Came a familiar voice from behind her.
Sarah shivered as a cold hand danced along her spine and turned to see her sister-in-law enter the room. “How is it interesting to flout every rule, and insult the hierarchy upon which the civilization of England is proudly based?”
Sarah gaped, her heart jumping up into her throat. How could she answer that question?
“Stop picking on the poor girl, she’s a vicar’s daughter,” the Countess dismissed the issue with a wave of her large hand and Sarah blinked away the tears that had been swimming in her eyes. “I absolutely loved the food myself,” she declared and went on happily to talk about the meal, the chocolate pudding in particular.
Sarah sat down on a settee with a cup of tea and didn’t say a single word again until she had to say good night. She struggled to maintain her smile and there was a heavy weight sitting in her belly unlike anything she’d ever known.
She had never felt so useless in her life.
***
“What a horrible night.” Sarah sighed in an attempt to lighten the weight gripping her heart as Oliver pulled back the blankets and climbed into the bed next to her.
“Hardly, I had more fun than I’ve had in ages.” Oliver chuckled, reaching out to pull her into his side.
“But I did everything wrong. The seating wasn’t organized properly, the food was too plain, and your mother said I was dressed like a servant.” Sarah complained again, and shuddered as she relived the moment the Dowager pulled her aside to tell her that her dress was little better than the housekeeper’s.
Her mother-in-law was, quite simply, a horrible woman.
Oliver sighed. “Sarah, I got to converse with people I never get to speak to and the food was delicious. If you didn’t feel pretty enough in that gown, then we will order some new ones. Get the seamstress in the village to come to the house if you like.”
Sarah stared at her husband and saw nothing to alarm her. He looked drowsy and happy. As though he really had spent a nice evening with his friends rather than the night she had experienced. She had hated every minute of it but if Oliver was happy, then she was resolved not to let it upset her again.
“What sort of dresses do you want me in, Oliver?” Sarah let a small moan escape her, stretching her body under the sheet so th
at he could see the mounds of her breasts and the smooth slope of her belly.
“Anything that covers this delicious body up so that no one else gets to see it.” Oliver pulled the sheet down and her nightgown up so that he could feast his eyes on her breasts. He set his lips to one sensitive nipple and suckled greedily. Sarah moaned loudly and held the man she loved to her. Their conversation was at an end.
****
The next day was another round of who can make Sarah feel bad. Her mother-in-law criticized her for wearing a dress not fitting of her station, and then told Sarah she needed lessons in deportment. Honoria went to the housekeeper and changed all the menus for the week without telling Sarah, adding several seafood dishes to which Sarah was allergic.
To deal with the stress Sarah had begun dusting. She always did that at home. If she had something on her mind or needed to think, then an easy yet constructive task was always best. She was dusting one of the sitting rooms when her mother-in-law came in, dragging one of the maids by the ear.
“Look, just look at what she is doing. If you did your job right then she would not be dusting the shelves,” the Dowager screamed at the poor girl who could not have been more than sixteen.
The maid turned bright pink and promptly burst into tears. Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes and her heart squeezed tight in her chest. She was the worst mistress in the world.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, I should not have been cleaning.” Sarah apologized, sniffing and blinking rapidly, trying her best not to burst into tears herself.
“No you should not. You obviously have problems with the cleanliness of the house. Therefore I will dismiss this maid instantly.”
The maid in question fell to her knees, sobbing into her white pinafore.
No, you can’t!
She could not be the reason that this poor girl lost her job. Goodness knows what fate she would have without it.
“No, please don’t do that, Your Grace. I was simply being selfish and vain wanting to do it myself.”
Her mother-in-law eyed her critically, and then inhaled deeply and screamed for Oliver.
Sarah cringed and looked away, clenching her teeth as her anger rose.
“Yes Mother,” came a weary voice from the doorway.
“Your wife has been dusting.”
Sarah lifted her eyes up off the carpet and watched as Oliver’s gaze swung to her and narrowed onto the feather duster in her hand.
“I’m sure Sarah meant no disrespect Mother.”
Pardon? This was their house!
“She is a Duchess, what will people think when they find out that she takes chores away from the servants?”
Oliver hung his head looking embarrassed and frustrated. Pain sliced through her. Sarah’s throat burned with tears and she bit her lip as her world crumbled around her.
“Sarah isn’t used to having the servant numbers that we have mother. I’m sure it won’t happen again.” He looked at her with pleading eyes.
Sarah blinked away the tears, dumb struck. How could Oliver not defend her? This was their home, not his mother’s any longer. She belonged in the Dowager House, yet the manners Sarah had been brought up with made her refrain from saying so.
“This is my home, Oliver and I will not have her undermining me. This maid is to be let go immediately.”
Oliver simply nodded his head and motioned for the maid to leave the room. “Is that all?”
His mother nodded, triumphant and Sarah sagged. How could her husband do that to her? Oliver bowed himself out of the room and Sarah received one more nasty look from her mother-in-law before she too, left Sarah alone. Completely alone.
When that same maid attended Sarah that night she was immensely relieved. Knowing that Oliver had saved the girl for her helped with her guilt. It didn’t change the fact that he didn’t stand up to his mother, but at least the guilt of the maid’s employment wasn’t hanging over Sarah’s head. And having two lady’s maids came in quite handy.
Sarah put a hand to her chest to take a deep breath. She was constantly out of breath these days, and often felt faint. She needed everything sorted out with her husband and as quickly as possible. Her health was beginning to suffer.
***
That night, Oliver joined Sarah in her bed as he always did, and yet there was something different about their encounter. They came together almost violently, each seeking reassurance that they were there for each other, physically, if not in any other way.
Sarah clung to her husband, reveling in the deep thrusts of his body. Knowing that in this, at least, she was a perfect wife. She was helpless not to respond and came apart loudly in his arms, calling on his own release within moments. They lay beside each other panting and together they simply drifted into sleep, hands linked.
****
The next week everything got steadily worse. The Dowager began to criticize Sarah’s piano playing, so Sarah didn’t play the instrument that had given her great joy since she could walk.
Honoria told her that her embroidery was little better than a child’s, so she stopped all needle work. Sarah didn’t know where to turn and when she spoke to Oliver about it, he brushed it off with the cavalier statement, “That is just what they are like.”
Sarah was lost, and alone. They made her believe that she was completely inadequate in all areas of her life and she didn’t know how to fix any of it. Never had she been so close to despair. She wanted her parents. She needed her mother. Who else could guide her out of this pit of blackness? But she was frightened to send her mother a letter that could be intercepted by her in-laws—or worse yet, put her mother in danger of their abuse.
Her husband had stopped talking to her and everywhere Sarah looked were reminders of the difference between herself and her husband. The house, the food, the servants, his family. Sarah was at breaking point and had no way of turning back.
****
Oliver wasn’t oblivious to Sarah’s pain. He knew, or had a fair idea how bad it was getting for her. He had heard his mother criticize Sarah for her piano playing and hadn’t said anything. He knew that Honoria went over Sarah’s head when it came to the housekeeping, but he hadn’t done anything about that either. He was ashamed of his cowardice, but it wasn’t his job to control such things.
His mother had begun to ridicule him in small ways too. Telling him his coat wasn’t the latest style or that his speech wasn’t eloquent enough. When that didn’t raise a response she told him that his father would be ashamed of the state of the grounds, and the way the tenants were not being looked after.
It didn’t affect him as much as she would like, but every day he sensed the holes in his armour getting larger.
The only solace in the whole day was when he climbed into Sarah’s bed at night. There he found heaven. Sarah opened her arms and her heart, and welcomed him. She never turned him away, she never said no to his needs. Even one night when he didn’t feel able to make love to her, he just held her all night and she clung tight to him. She never reproached him, never criticized him. The only thing she did was complain about how she was treated by his mother and Honoria, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
****
Sarah had had enough. She had been spoken down to, criticized and glared at every day for almost a month and she was at breaking point. She loved her husband, but she couldn’t keep living as she was. It wasn’t good for her, and it wasn’t healthy for the baby she suspected she was growing since she hadn’t had her monthly flux in the eight weeks since her wedding.
Sarah knew she needed to approach her husband and give him one more chance to be the man she knew he could be.
She walked the lonely halls of her husband’s main estate and found Oliver hiding in his study, where he normally remained during the day.
“Oliver, I don’t think I can stay in this house with your mother any longer.”
The words came out in a rush of mumble. It had taken all day for Sarah to find the courage to say those wor
ds to her husband and now that she had, she wondered why she hadn’t said them a month before.
“It’s her home. I can’t ask her to leave.” Oliver looked up at her and his mouth pulled down on both sides as he responded from behind his desk.
“And, that woman...” Sarah began, unsure how she should describe her husband’s sister-in-law. “She looks at me as though I were a rodent who had the audacity to find its way into her room.” Sarah shook her head to herself, pretty sure that the definition was correct.
“Honoria’s not that bad Sarah. Really, you’re exaggerating.”
“Why is she still living here?” Sarah placed her hands on hips and stared at her husband, unable to hide her feelings of confusion and anger any longer.
“Because I promised her that she would always have a place to live within our family. I didn’t have much choice. My brother didn’t leave her enough money so that she could rent her own home. She would have to return to her mother. And she’s good company for my mother.”
“But I’m your wife,” Sarah argued. She was suppose to be the one his mother wanted to keep her company.
“Of course you are.”
“Then why do they both hate me so much? I knew they’d never be happy that you had married so far beneath your own station, but I never thought they would be so horrible to me.” Sarah allowed every ounce of hurt to show in her face and voice, hoping to reach Oliver.
She watched, horrified as he shrunk further into his shell of denial.
“Oh, stop it, Sarah, you’re exaggerating and it really is unbecoming, especially in a Duchess.”
“I’m not exaggerating. They don’t think I’m good enough for you,” Sarah argued again.
Oliver remained silent.
“Oliver!” Sarah yelled, calling his name for the third time. Had she really lost him?
“Mmm?”
“Tell me the truth. Do you think I’m good enough to be your wife?” she demanded now, taking refuge in anger as well.
