by Joyce Alec
He whined in reply, and his mouth stretched into a great yawn.
She still felt uneasy, and she looked into the gardens.
Most of the flowers had gone into hibernation, all of the lovely blooms of spring and summer only a memory now.
She had been so pleased to work in the gardens when she first arrived at Lord Kenswick’s manor. They were so vast and varied, and she had found great satisfaction as she tended to them.
Her face fell.
Those flowers remind me of myself… once lovely and full of life, but now faint and wilted.
The tears in her eyes fell down her cheeks, and she brushed them away angrily.
“No,” she said again. “No, I am happy here. I love my husband. I love William.”
And she did not doubt it. She did love him, like she had loved no other man.
“But something is… missing,” she said. “How could I have been so wrong? My brothers and sister are so happily married, it is almost as if they are living in a state of bliss all of the time!”
Arnold sniffed her hand and forced his head underneath it, encouraging her to keep scratching.
“What have I done wrong?”
She heard footsteps coming up the path.
She hastily found her poise and propriety, and looked in the direction of the sound.
William came around a row of hedges and smiled when he saw her.
“There you are,” he said, hurrying over to her.
Her heart beat uncomfortably in her chest. Why am I not happier to see him?
He sat down on the bench beside her. “I sent all of the gentlemen home. It was growing late, and there was not much left to discuss before next week. Besides, I thought I could join you on your walk.”
His happy expression slid into one of more concern. “My dear, is something the matter?”
He should not have said that. All of the composure she had built up shattered, and she burst into tears, cradling her head in her hands.
Arnold, startled by the sound, tried to jump up and lick her face, but William pulled him off her lap.
“Darling, whatever is wrong? Has something happened? Are you hurt?”
She sniffled into her hand. “N… no,” she managed. “I’m not hurt. I’m just…”
She felt his hand on her shoulder, and before she even knew what she was doing, she had pulled away and gotten to her feet, her back facing him.
As soon as she had done it, she regretted it.
“Beatrice, what happened?” His voice cracked, and she felt even worse. “Please, you must tell me.”
“I do not know,” she said finally, balling her hands into fists and letting them fall to her sides. “I wish I did! I just…”
He rose and walked over to her.
He was too kind. She had so obviously just completely rejected him, and yet he still pursued her as if he had nothing to lose. She was almost making herself sick.
“Did…” he began, and he swallowed hard. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you because I forgot to tell you about our hunting days?”
She did not answer for a moment, but she could not bring herself to turn around and face him.
“No…” she began, but then she changed her mind. “Somewhat. I just feel as if there is so much about all of this that I do not understand,” she replied.
She turned around and looked at him, and she could see the shock all over his face.
But she was angry, and she felt as if she could not keep any of this inside of herself any long.
“Ever since we have been married, I feel insignificant. So many things are out of my control, and I feel as if nothing concerns you. Everything is fine and amiable in your eyes, and yet, I feel as if nothing makes sense anymore!”
He blinked, his mouth hanging open. He did not look angry or sad. She was not sure which she would have preferred.
“You… you think that nothing concerns me?” He made a sound of disbelief. “Of course I have matters that trouble me or need my attention, but I do not wish for anything to worry you. I always put on a good face for you, so that you are not troubled.”
“So you lie to me?”
“Not at all!” he begged hastily, taking a step toward her. “No, I have never, and never will, lie to you. I just wish to protect you from matters that might trouble you.”
“I am not a child, William!” she retorted angrily. “You do not need to keep me in the dark. It is not hard to piece together the things that you do keep from me, from either the servants or what you so obviously avoid in conversation.”
“I am very sorry, Beatrice. I had no idea you felt this way.”
“You do not ask me!” she cried. “I feel as if I am alone in this marriage, and… and…”
The rain had begun again, slowly but heavily, and big drops fell onto her hair and his face.
He blinked them away, not moving his attention from her.
“And what?” he asked, his voice eerily even and calm.
She was breathing heavily.
“And sometimes I wonder if we rushed into this too quickly!”
She had never, ever said that to herself, out of fear of condemning herself for doing exactly as she had set out to do, but also because, deep down, she did not want to believe it. It was much easier to admit that she had been right and tough it out than to admit that she had been wrong…
Have we made the wrong decision?
“What do you mean?”
She could hear the fear in his voice, and it made a hard lump appear in her throat. You can still fix this, she told herself.
“Are you saying that… you regret marrying me?”
“No,” she snapped quickly, but then her mind raced and challenged those words. Is that true? Are you sure? “I do not know!” she exclaimed, her fingers knotted in her own hair.
She fell to her knees, her strength failing her. “I do not know,” she sobbed, the rain mixing with her tears as they fell to ground, indistinguishable from one another. “I do not know if we rushed into things! I did not even question it! You did not even question it! How did we know that we would be good for each other? We did not give ourselves any time to find out!”
She wailed angrily, and she cried even harder when she felt him kneel down beside her and wrap his arms around her, both shielding her from the rain and to hold her close as she cried.
How could she have said those things? And how could he not have responded at all? Did he believe them too? Was his silence an agreement to everything that she had said?
She tried to stand, and William put his arm beneath hers, helping her to her feet.
“I need to get away for a little while,” she said quietly.
The rain started to fall even harder.
“Where will you go?” he said.
He did not even challenge me… she realized. Fresh tears fell onto her face. Did he really love her that much? Or did he feel the same way that she did?
“I will visit my parents,” she stammered. “I just… need some time to think.”
He stared at her, and she saw his shoulders sag. Eventually, he nodded his head.
“All right. Take some time,” said William with sadness in his voice.
She walked past him, but he grabbed her arm.
“I will be here for you when you return, my love,” he said in a voice hardly above a whisper, and then he released his grip and began to walk up the path the opposite direction.
She only spared him one glance over her shoulder before she rounded the corner in the hedges. Arnold let out a wail of sadness, and it followed Beatrice all the way back to the house.
5
Disbelief
Beatrice was packed and ready to leave within the hour. She did not know how long she would be gone, so her lady’s maid only packed one trunk. Beatrice was sure that she could borrow anything she would need from Margaret or her mother.
She informed the butler that he was to call the carriage for her, and when he asked w
hy, she was rather short and insisted that he do his job and not ask questions.
She felt rather horrible for how she treated him, but the anger and fear she felt about her conversation with William was suppressing it. She said very little to the footman who smiled at her as he held the door for her, and after she climbed in, he watched her cautiously.
“Where to, my lady?”
She glared at him. “Edgefield.”
He hesitated, looking curiously around.
“And Lord Kenswick?”
“I am going alone,” she replied sharply.
“Yes, of course, my lady,” he said, and after a quick bow, latched the carriage door shut.
She collapsed against the back of the carriage seat and allowed herself to cry for almost a quarter of an hour.
The rain fell in earnest, loud and frequent upon the top of the carriage. She knew it was not a wise time to travel, especially for the horses.
She was grateful for the sound, though. She feared that the silence would smother her, and the beating of the rain matched the angry beating of her heart, and she felt as if the storm inside of her was so strong that it was happening outside of herself as well.
Thankfully, it did not take very long to arrive at her parents’ home. The rain had let up somewhat, and when the drenched footman opened the door for her, she felt her heart soften.
“Oh, Mr. Lurrenburg… I am so very sorry that the rain was as bad as it was.”
She was not sorry, however, that she had made him come this far. She had to leave the house, and this was the only way she could.
Mr. Lurrenburg put on a brave face and shook his head, rain water flying in all directions from the edge of his wet hat. “Not at all, my lady. All is well.”
“You must come inside and get dry before you make the return journey,” she reasoned.
He looked curiously at her. “Are you not going to come back with me, my lady?”
Beatrice pursed her lips. “No. I wish to have an extended visit with my parents.”
It was not exactly a lie, but it certainly was not the truth. She was still trying to decide what she was going to tell her parents.
“Beatrice! What a surprise!”
Her father found her as soon as she stepped into the foyer. He was partway down the staircase, and he had a book in his hands. Beaming, he came down the rest of the staircase and embraced her as soon as he could.
“Come in, come in!” he said excitedly. “I wonder, did we miss a letter from you? Or did your mother just forget to tell me that you said you were coming to visit?” He grinned at her.
Beatrice, feeling both relief and a strong surge of fear at the same time, tried to return the smile.
“No, Father, this is just a surprise visit.”
“Wonderful!” he said, his arm around her shoulder. He was leading her toward the sitting room with the roaring fireplaces. The idea of the warm fire sounded luxurious to her right then and there.
“I assume that William is helping the footman? Such a gentleman.”
“No, Father. I came alone this trip.”
“Oh,” he said, and his tone indicated surprise, but he did not press any further. “Well, it is lovely to have you here. You know that you are always welcome.”
The duchess was in the sitting room, and when she saw Beatrice enter the room with her father, she rose to her feet.
“Beatrice! What are you doing here?” her mother asked, her hands holding her dress above her feet to cross the room quickly.
“I decided it was time for a visit,” Beatrice replied in her most even tone. She smiled at her mother as she came up to her and embraced her, kissing her on her cheek.
“Well,” her mother acknowledged, taking Beatrice’s hands in her own. “All right.” She looked over her shoulder and back out into the hall. “Where is your husband?”
“He did not come with me. He was very busy planning a hunting trip with his friends.”
Her mother studied her face, but Beatrice hid her unease with a flourish of her hand.
“Apparently, September is a very important month for him and his hunting. And I always wish to encourage my husband to be content.”
Still her parents looked at her.
“I apologize that I did not send a word about my visit.”
“Nonsense,” her father said. “As I said, you are always welcome.” He grinned as he walked with her to a seat by the fire. “Surely you will wish to get warm by the fire.”
“And your brother and sister will be pleased to know that you are here.”
Beatrice looked at her mother as she finished her thought.
“Who else is visiting?”
“John and Agnes arrived yesterday. Jane and Andrew just arrived this morning.”
Beatrice smiled, but she felt cold inside.
Maybe I should not have come all the way here… not when my siblings will be able to see right through me.
She grinned. “It will be wonderful to see them,” she uttered. “Where are they?”
“They are with the children.”
Beatrice nodded.
I have a very short amount of time to get my story straight. I will not let them know what is happening. My troubles are my own. There is no need for any of them to know that anything is wrong. They do not need to know that I wonder if I was wrong in my choice.
Beatrice did not see her siblings and their spouses until dinner. She had washed, changed, and felt immensely better than how she felt when she left the Kenswick manor. As long as she kept herself distracted, she did not feel the hollowness inside of her when she thought of her husband.
They were all very excited to see her, and she was more than grateful when her parents answered their questions about when she had arrived and how she had surprised them. No one seemed to wonder about it any longer. Beatrice was able to slip into the background until they were seated for dinner.
She found herself between John on her left and Jane on her right. Margaret sat across the table, and had not forgiven her yet for not telling her ahead of time that she would be visiting.
“You could have at least told me,” she had said, her arms folded tight across her chest.
“Even I did not know that I was coming until…” Beatrice quickly sought the words. “Until a short time ago. I thought it would be nice to surprise all of you.”
“I am surprised that you were able to pull yourself away from your husband so soon,” Jane said teasingly as they enjoyed the soup that had been placed in front of them.
Beatrice noticed her mother’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. Beatrice smiled wide.
“Well, I felt it would be all right to be away for a few days. I missed my family,” she hesitated, and spooned some of the soup into her mouth. It was hot and salty, and she knew that she would normally greatly enjoy it. But the turn of the conversation was making it taste like soot in her mouth.
“Yes, where is our newest brother-in-law?” John asked, also turning to her, his spoon poised above his bowl, awaiting him.
Beatrice swallowed, but she knew her face was unreadable. “As I told Mother and Father, he is with some of his friends this week, preparing for a hunting trip.”
John’s brow furrowed. “Well I knew that he hunted in the fall, but for an entire week? That does not seem like William.”
Beatrice felt her face flush, and she was grateful that the room was as dark as it was. “Yes, well, he also has business to attend to this week.”
She was speaking the truth, of course, but she knew it was only half of the truth.
“Well, I am glad that he was all right with you coming to see all of us while he did that! No sense in you staying in that big house for that long!” Jane said, reaching over to squeeze Beatrice’s hand.
Beatrice smiled a tight smile in reply.
“Speaking of William, how are the newlyweds?” Agnes asked, leaning around John and grinning at Beatrice.
Beatrice had to bite the inside of her
cheek to stop from groaning out loud. She fitted a pleasant expression on her face, but she felt as if she her heart was tearing itself in half. “We are quite well,” she lied outright. The words hurt to say, as she wished more than anything that she meant them.
What she would not give to be sitting there with her family simply because her husband was on a hunting trip, happily talking about the life that she and William had created. She wished that all of these questions did not bother her as much as they did, and she fought the tears that threatened to bubble up.
“In fact,” she went on, more so for herself than was necessary, “Everything is absolutely perfect. Things have never been better, and I have never…” Her eyes were fixed on the plate in front of her. It was easier to lie to her plate than it was to lie to one of her siblings. “I have never been happier.”
To solidify her point, she threw back her head and laughed. “William told me the most amusing story the other day…”
And then she did all she could to move the conversation from her and William’s marriage. She wanted nothing more than to fade into the background, listening and observing, but not being the center of attention any longer.
She wondered, not for the first time, if she had made a mistake by rushing to her parents’ home so hastily. Perhaps she had overreacted, and she should have stayed home and attempted to work things out with William. Maybe she had allowed her emotions to run away with her.
But there was a constant, nagging feeling at the back of her mind that reminded her she was perfectly justified at being upset.
She hated being alone, but she hated being with people for fear that they would pick and pry at her thoughts. She was not ready for that.
She excused herself from the dinner table early, telling everyone that she was very tired from the trip that afternoon, and she needed to rest. No one seemed to give her a second glance.
Except for Jane.
Beatrice went to her old room, which her parents had left alone once she had moved out in case she and William came to visit, and she closed herself inside. The servants had already been by and lit the fireplace along the wall, but it gave her little warmth.
