He probably wanted to know how Ichabod managed to conceive a child. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to tell anyone. Lewis had assumed Ichabod made her come to his bed to quickly get the matter over with and then had her leave once he was done. If only it had been that simple…
The baby kicked against her ribs, so she straightened in the chair.
“Are you all right?” Stephen asked.
“I’m fine. The baby was moving.”
“Lewis said you’re due to give birth soon, but he didn’t know exactly when.”
“I’m expecting it to be a month. That’s why Lewis was in a hurry to get me to you. He wanted me married again before the baby was born.”
“That’s understandable, though, given your condition, I imagine the journey here couldn’t have been easy all the way from the country.”
“No, it wasn’t. I had to stop almost every hour.”
“Because of the discomfort?”
“Yes, and I also had to take care of more pressing needs.” She was sure her cheeks grew pink at the mention of having to relieve her bladder. Granted, it was something everyone had to do, but it wasn’t something they ever talked about.
“It’s good you made it without incident. At least when you give birth, you’ll be here. I had Lewis notify Dr. Westward that you’re here. I plan to send for the doctor as soon as you go into labor. I’ve held my sister’s children when they were babies, but I’ve never helped one come into the world. And the prospect of ever doing so frightens me.”
Something in the way he shivered made her chuckle. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be present for the birth, but I have to be.”
“It frightens you, too?”
She nodded. Mostly because she worried if the curse would give her a difficult labor. If she had a difficult labor, either she or the child might not make it, and honestly, it scared her more to think she’d lose the child than it did to think she wouldn’t survive the process. Though the conception was very impersonal, she already loved her son or daughter.
Stephen cleared his throat again, so she brought her attention back to him. “Since we are married,” he began, “the child will grow up here. If you have a son, naturally, Ichabod’s title will go to him, but I was wondering if I might be a father to him or her.”
She smiled. “It’d be nice if this child had a father.”
She didn’t know if Ichabod would have wanted to see the baby. He’d had a title and needed to pass it on to a son. For him, there was nothing personal about it. She didn’t know if that would have changed had Ichabod lived, and there was no way she’d ever find out. But Stephen was expressing an interest in being a part of her child’s life. That was nice. She would like the child to grow up surrounded by people who loved him, or her.
Maybe this child would be a good thing for both of them. If she survived the birth and the child made it into the world all right, then perhaps the aching loneliness pressing down on both of them would ease.
Feeling more hopeful than she had in a long time, she finished the rest of her meal.
***
Later that day, she thought she’d ask Stephen if he wanted to join her for a walk. She approached the closed door of his den. She hadn’t bothered him before, and she wasn’t sure if he’d welcome the intrusion now. But he had shown an interest in talking to her while they ate. The contract had asked her not to look at him beneath his mask, remove the covers over the mirrors, or to ask him about his past. There was nothing forbidding her from seeing if he wanted to go for a walk.
She took a deep breath to gather her courage and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” came Stephen’s familiar voice from the other side.
“Patricia.”
She waited for him to tell her whether she could open the door or if she should go away. But instead of saying anything, she heard footsteps approach the door before he opened it.
“Is the baby ready to be born?” he asked.
“No.”
Now that she was face to face with him, she found her courage wavering. Even if he’d never done anything to intimidate her, the mask suddenly reminded her of a clown at one of the circuses she had gone to when she was a kid. She’d had nightmares of that clown for months afterwards. The clown had picked her from the audience, and at her mother’s encouragement, she let the clown take her for a ride on the unicycle in the middle of the ring.
Since it was a show, the clown had pretended he was going to fall off the unicycle, and it had brought her to tears. Afterwards, the clown had apologized. As an adult, she knew the clown hadn’t meant to scare her. As a child, however, he’d been the source of many nightmares.
After all this time, why was she thinking of that clown? Maybe it was the way the shadows from the hall fell across Stephen as he looked at her. It didn’t help that the drapes in his den were drawn closed. It almost seemed as if he was surrounded by darkness, and for years, she’d envisioned that clown coming out from the shadows to get her.
Forcing aside her unease, she said, “I was thinking of taking a walk, and I wondered if you wanted to join me.”
He didn’t answer right away, and she was beginning to think he was going to decline her offer when he nodded. “A walk might be nice. Let me change into an outfit appropriate for a walk, and I’ll meet you in the drawing room.”
Surprised he had agreed to join her, she took a moment to respond. “I’ll wait for you.”
Doing her best not to think of the clown, she forced a hesitant smile then left him to do whatever he needed to in the den before he was ready to go for the walk.
Chapter Seven
Stephen slipped on his Carrick coat then glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Once again, the scars on his face reminded him of the past. And not just the past he had shared with Eloise. They reminded him of the person he was even before his brother forced him to marry her.
Back then, if someone had told him he would regret all of his careless actions, he would have laughed. A lot of gentlemen did the same things he’d been doing. Gambling, drinking, taking a mistress… Doing everything he could to enjoy all the pleasures London had to offer…
Looking back, he didn’t know why those things had been so important to him. They hadn’t truly satisfied him. Oh, sure, they had for a short time. But in the end, they left him with an empty feeling he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard he’d tried.
This was what prompted him to accept Patricia’s offer to go for a walk. Every time Lewis or his sister came by for a visit, the emptiness was gone. As soon as they left, however, it returned.
When the time between their visits grew long, he got so used to it that he actually grew numb to it. He wandered through his day, usually reading. It was a good way to escape. In the past, he hadn’t made it a habit of reading books. Now he read them all the time. When he was reading, he could forget about everything in his own life. And if the book was good enough, he felt so immersed in the story that he felt as if he was one of the characters.
But sooner or later, every story came to an end, and he had to return to his prison. Always knowing he shouldn’t have pushed his brother to the point where his brother had no choice but to get rid of him. Always knowing he couldn’t go back in time and do any of it over again. The worst times were when he rehashed the past in his mind, thinking of all the ways he should have done things differently. Then his life would have turned out so much better.
With a sigh, he put his mask on. There was no changing the past. If only he could get to the point where it no longer haunted him.
He left his bedchamber and went to the drawing room. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the walk he was about to share with Patricia. Lewis had said good things about her, and he trusted Lewis’ judgment. If Lewis liked her, then there had to be something about her worth liking.
Patricia was already waiting for him in the drawing room. She had on a hat, gloves, and a redingote to keep her warm. She turned from th
e window and smiled in a way that told him she was glad he’d chosen to join her for the walk.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
He blinked, not knowing why he should suddenly be taken off guard. “Uh, yes.” He pulled the gloves out of his pocket and slipped them on. “Is there a certain part of the property you’d like to see?”
“I would like to see the maze.” She approached him. “Do you know how to get to the center of it?”
He nodded. “There’s a trick to it. I can teach you the secret.”
Her eyes lit up. “That sounds like fun.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. “Have you ever been in a maze before?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to check one out.”
“Well, this will be a good time for you to see it. The weather’s still nice enough for a long walk.”
He waved for her to go first and followed her out of the manor. The air was crisp, and there were enough fallen leaves to send the scent of autumn in the air. He’d forgotten how nice autumn smelled. There was definitely a distinct fragrance to it.
“Autumn is one of my favorite times of year,” he said as they headed for the maze.
“Is it?”
He nodded. “I love the change of colors in the trees, especially the vibrant ones. I’ve never been fond of dull colors.”
“Is that why you chose the colors you did for the rooms in your manor? I noticed each room has a different color.”
“When I moved to this place, no one had lived in it for over a year, and the gentleman who owned it didn’t have any imagination. Everything was drab and dreary. I don’t know who he was or what he was like, but the moment I came here, I decided to make the rooms more pleasing to the eye. Do you like what I did?”
“I do. I have to admit that when I first came here,” she glanced at the covered bridge at the top of the hill with the group of trees around it, “I thought this place was spooky. But then, I came at night. During the day, it doesn’t look nearly as foreboding.”
“You thought this place was foreboding?”
“Well, it had a spooky feel to it.”
“Does it still feel that way?”
“When it’s dark, it can be.”
He’d grant her that. Darkness could have that effect on anything.
“The rooms are bright and cheerful in the daytime. I was wondering why you chose red for the drawing room, light blue for the dining room, and dark green for my bedchamber?”
“Red is a lively color,” he said. “It’s dynamic and exciting. I figured it would be a good way to stimulate conversation. I realize I don’t have much company, but when I do, it’s nice to have a pleasant visit. Blue is a nice, soothing color. It seems like the right color if someone wants to relax while eating.”
“But we ate in the drawing room this morning,” she interrupted as they neared the maze.
“That was because I was hoping to have a conversation with you,” he replied. “I was hoping the color in the room would encourage you to share your thoughts.”
“So you were trying to reach out to me last evening during dinner?”
He nodded.
“To be honest,” she began, “I wanted to talk to you. I just didn’t know what to say.”
“Then it seems like the red color in the drawing room did the trick.”
She made eye contact with him, and she laughed, her eyes sparkling as she did so. It was a lively gesture, one that almost didn’t seem to belong anywhere near this place.
“Yes, I suppose eating in the drawing room did help me open up,” she said. “What about the green color in my bedchamber? Why not more red or even a dark blue?”
“Green is another soothing and relaxing color. I love dark green. It’s one of my favorite colors. That’s why I chose that particular shade.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Really? Do you have that for your bedchamber, too?”
He hesitated to respond. She’d probably think something was wrong with him if he confided that he had picked black for his room. Fortunately, they reached the entrance of the maze, which gave him the perfect chance to change topics. And he did.
“This maze is very simple,” he said, gesturing to the pathway as they stepped inside it. “You take one left, two rights, one left, two rights, one left, and so on until you reach the center. Then, when you want to come back out, you take two lefts, one right, and so on.”
“Is that really all there is to it?”
“Yes, but I didn’t plan it. The previous owner did. It only took me going through here four times to figure out the pattern.”
“Did you have trouble finding your way back out when you started exploring this maze?”
“No. I cheated. I left a trail of breadcrumbs behind me.”
“That’s a good idea. I wouldn’t have thought to do that.”
Though she couldn’t see it, he arched an eyebrow as they took the first left. “Were you going to come out here by yourself if I hadn’t agreed to join you for this walk?”
“I considered it. I don’t know if I would have gone through with the plan.” She scanned the tall shrubs that were taller than them. “It seems much more intimidating when I’m right here than it was from the drawing room.”
She gave a slight shiver, and on impulse, he cupped her elbow with his hand in an attempt to comfort her. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m here. Besides, there’s something I think you might like in the center.”
As he expected, she seemed intrigued. “While the weather cooperates, I have the gardener come out here every two weeks to trim the shrubs,” he said as they took a right. “I like keeping things neat and orderly.”
Which was ironic since he used to give his brother a hard time about being that way. But Stephen wasn’t obsessive with making sure things were symmetrical or even numbered. He just didn’t like things to be messy. He hadn’t always been like that. It’d only been during his marriage to Eloise that he’d felt like his life had no control in it.
Having things neat and orderly helped give him a sense of control where there had been none, and he had gotten comfort from that. Now he could appreciate Brad’s quirks more, though he couldn’t tell his brother that since Brad refused to speak with him.
“You like to do that with everything, don’t you?” Patricia asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Since he’d forgotten what he’d last told her, he admitted, “My mind wandered. What did I say?”
“You said you like the maze to be neat and orderly. It seems you do that with everything. The rooms in your manor, the outside of it, this maze… It seems like everything is taken care of.”
“I don’t like to see things get in a bad condition. I don’t obsess over it, but I feel better when they’re in good shape.”
He felt better about himself and better about his lot in life. It was the only way he could cope with the consequences of his past actions without going insane. He doubted she’d understand if he tried to explain that to her, and to be honest, he didn’t want to explain it. He wanted to forget all of it and put it behind him, even if it was for one afternoon.
They reached the end of the current path they were on, and she glanced to the left and then to the right. “It’s left, two rights, left, and so on, correct?”
He smiled. “Yes. That’s all there is to it.”
They turned to the right. “Do you come out here a lot?”
“Not as much as I did when I first moved here. My interest had been in figuring out the maze. It was a good distraction.” Figuring they had talked enough about him—a topic that only depressed him—he asked, “Will being here be difficult for you?”
“Difficult?”
“Boring. Will you grow restless here?” She hesitated to respond, and, to him, that meant it would. “It can get boring,” he said. “I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t. This maze is a good way to pass your time, but the amusement will only last for so long. And sometimes all the b
ooks in the world can’t take the boredom away.”
“Do you get restless?”
He nodded. There was no point in denying it. “It’s not easy to be away from London. In London, there’s always something to do or someone to see. Even when the Season is over, there are still things to do for amusement. Out here, you have to make your own amusement. That’s why I think you should go to London whenever you want. My sister will be more than happy to show you around. She might even introduce you to her friends.”
“But you rarely go to London. What do you do when you get restless?”
He shrugged. “I wait for tomorrow to come.”
“And do you get restless when it does?”
Though he was sure her question wasn’t meant to be funny, he found himself laughing. “Well, there’s not much else to do but wait for another tomorrow.”
She chuckled. “That was how things were when I was married to Lewis’ brother. After a while, I had to ask the servants what day it was.”
“Yes, it’s easy to forget what day it is when there’s nothing to do.”
“I’m glad you talk to me. I’m glad you share the meals with me. I don’t feel so isolated when you do. And being on this walk through the maze with you is nice.”
“It is?” He hadn’t meant to blurt the question out, but she’d caught him by surprise.
“I’m enjoying our conversation. Aren’t you enjoying it?”
“Yes, yes, I am.”
It was making him feel more at peace with the world. After Lewis or Loretta left, he usually went through a few days of feeling as if he might descend into the depths of despair before settling back into a state of limbo where he went numb. Since Patricia had remained at the manor with him, he’d had someone to talk to. It was nice. It was nice not having to go back into the familiar pattern of despair.
“I love taking walks,” Patricia said as they continued their walk through the maze. “When I was married to Ichabod, I went on one almost every day. It was the only thing that reminded me I was still alive. I read books to escape into other people’s lives. I tried having conversations with the servants, but I didn’t have anything in common with them. I suppose that’s to be expected since I was the mistress of the estate. Sometimes I rode one of the horses, but for the most part, I walked. You mentioned not coming out to this maze much anymore. Does that mean you don’t go for a lot of walks?”
The Marriage Contract Page 6
