“I was just going to find the butler.” She looked at the letter in her hand by way of explanation.
“A letter? Is it to your mother?”
“No, it is to my friend, Ariadne. I had just wanted to remind her of our engagement on Thursday.” She smiled with as much warmth as she could manage, not wanting him to enquire any further about the letter.
She was already regretting not stowing it in her pocket the moment she saw him, especially when she thought of the contents within.
If, in a mood of irrationality which she knew him capable of now, he tore it from her grip and chose to read it, there would be nothing that she could do to stop him.
And with such mentions of his own behaviour, their private business, and especially her new-found friendship with his attorney, the result would be absolutely disastrous.
Eliza felt suddenly nervous, her palms beginning to perspire, and an unwelcome warmth brightening her cheeks. She only hoped that Augustus, who still seemed a little unsteady and unwell, would not notice.
“Are you quite well, Augustus?” Eliza said with a tone of concern that she hoped he would not recognize as forced.
She was determined to change the subject, to take his mind off the letter in her hand which seemed to have drawn his attention and made him a little vague as he stared at it.
“Yes, I am well,” he said and finally looked up at her.
“Forgive me, you look a little pale,” she went on, determined in her self-preservation. “When I am seeing the butler, would you like me to have some tea sent up?”
“Yes, that would be very nice. And nicer still if you would join me, my dear.” He gave a brittle smile that was part resigned and part embarrassed.
Not for the first time, Eliza felt a little sorry for him. Even though he had behaved despicably, perhaps Daniel Winchester was right. Perhaps he was not so much a bad man as a man who had behaved badly.
And believing herself to see embarrassment and regret on his face now, she wished that the whole thing had never happened, not only for her sake but for his own.
Perhaps he had continued to drink these last days not only as a way of curing the sickness which came with unwanted sobriety but perhaps as a way of forgetting his own shameful outburst.
“Yes, of course,” she said with a bright smile that was almost genuine, given the sweeping sensation of relief with regards to the letter in her hand. “Well, I will be no more than a few minutes, and I shall join you, Augustus.”
“Very well,” he said and smiled before turning to slowly make his way into the drawing room.
As she watched him go, Eliza thought he walked as if every joint in his body was stiff. He seemed somehow unbending, and she wondered if he was truly ill.
A part of her wished that she would cease to feel sorry for him. But a larger part of her knew that it was her pity, her mercy even that would keep her human.
She wandered slowly away herself, her mind racing as she made her way below stairs. Her feelings seemed to run in one direction before stopping altogether and turning to run in another, and it was an aspect she was finding most confusing.
One moment she despised her husband and the next she felt sadness and a great sense of pity for him. And then she would miss Miles terribly, wishing that she had him back in her life and all the happiness he had given her.
But in the next moment, she would remember his final words, how much he had disappointed her, and her feelings would be off on a path to anger.
And then there was Daniel Winchester. She knew that there were feelings somewhere in her heart that ought to be faced, but not knowing what they might be, she found she was a little too afraid to inspect them.
And so, as was becoming her custom of late, Eliza decided to think of none of it, to free her mind from the constant whirring, and to concentrate on the mundane and the every day. At least for now, at any rate.
Chapter 13
By the time a maid came in with a tray laden with tea, bread-and-butter, and cakes, the Duke of Lytton had already poured himself a small measure of brandy.
Eliza had distinctly asked for plenty of food to be sent with the tea as a means of fortifying Augustus, settling his stomach perhaps and making him feel a little healthier. Foolishly, she had thought that such a thing would stay his hand and stop him reaching for the decanter.
But still, he had only poured himself a very small measure, and she could do no more than let herself believe that he had only done so as a means of quelling the illness that came as the liquor began to leave his system.
Although she had only ever known him to indulge himself entirely, Eliza was sure that Augustus had not been quite such a heavy drinker when she had first arrived at Lytton Hall.
She could not help wondering if his disappointed expectations in their marriage had something to do with it. Perhaps he had faced the reality that a young bride was never going to truly love him. But was that enough to see a man take to drink the way he was doing?
Eliza busied herself pouring tea for them both and setting out small plates. She set his tea on the table at the side of his armchair next to the decanter of brandy and the now empty glass.
“Would you like bread-and-butter or cake? Or perhaps you would like both, Augustus?” she said and was surprised to hear her own hopeful tone.
“Just bread-and-butter, please,” he said with an expression that suggested food was the very last thing he wanted.
“There,” she said with a smile as she handed him his plate with two pieces of thickly buttered bread.
“Thank you,” he said and again gave her a smile that looked a little rueful.
“I had not given the cook any particular instructions for this evening, Augustus, so I hope you do not mind taking potluck at dinnertime?”
“No, I do not mind,” he said quietly. “In fact, I am not very hungry.”
“Then you are unwell, Augustus, for I am sure that I know you to have a very healthy appetite.” Eliza hoped that by appearing to care for him she could keep his temper on an even keel.
Whilst he looked as if he did not have an ounce of shout in him, she realized now that she was afraid of the man. She had not expected his outburst at dinner, and so she knew that she could never fully trust the mood he appeared to be in.
If only she could keep him drinking tea and eating bread-and-butter, perhaps he would not take another drink that afternoon.
“Perhaps I am a little unwell, Eliza. I know I have felt better, at any rate.”
“Would it be wise to call out the physician?”
“No, I am sure that I will recover in a day or two.” He raised one of the pieces of bread and butter to his mouth but then returned it to the plate without biting it. He looked over at her and was suddenly very serious and intent. “I think I have been feeling unwell for a little while. Perhaps it has put me in bad humour, Eliza.”
“I see,” she said quietly as her emotions suddenly changed again.
Whilst she felt sorry for him in his embarrassment, she could not believe that he would expect such an excuse to suffice as an apology. After everything he had said to her, after the way he had acted so cruelly, so ungentlemanly, did he really think that to blame his physical malady would be enough?
“I hope you realize that I did not mean to speak to you in such a fashion in front of our guests.” He was still studying her, and she began to feel uncomfortable. “I should not have given into my illness in such a way.” And still, there was no apology, just a very poor excuse.
In truth, Eliza would rather he had never mentioned it again at all, not even in an attempt to make things right. For in doing so, he had made her feel much worse somehow.
It was as if she did not even warrant a thorough apology and worse still, he was staring at her as if he fully expected her to tell him that he need not think of it, that there was nothing to forgive. She knew she would never do that.
“I see,” she said again, not knowing how else to go on.
“You see, do you?” he said as he narrowed his gaze. “And what do you see?”
“I see just as you have said, Augustus. That you felt unwell and were in poor humour. I see that you did not, as you have just said, intend to speak to me so roughly in public.”
“And that is all you see?”
“That is what I see, Augustus.”
“But I note that you do not forgive me,” he said and reached out for the brandy decanter, pouring himself a very large serving.
“I am sure that I have said nothing to give you offence, Augustus.” Eliza was absolutely determined not to forgive him.
Suddenly her fury was back, and she could have stamped on her own foot for feeling a moment’s pity for this dreadful man. He was a coward of the first-order, one who could not take responsibility for his own behaviour, his own actions, and one who was certainly not man enough to apologize properly.
“I have apologized to you, and you do not even have the good grace to accept it,” he said after draining the entire glass and reaching out to pour himself another.
Eliza could feel her panic rising, knowing that she should not goad him with her refusal to forgive him but feeling her humiliation as keenly as she had felt it on that evening at the dinner table.
She felt hot and sick and wondered how it was that she could feel fear and anger all at once and not know which one of them should take the lead.
“You have explained your behaviour, Augustus … you have not apologized for it,” Eliza said and was surprised that her voice was so steady. “But I did not ask you for an apology, and I did not expect one. I had just hoped that we could sit together and take tea without any upset. Beyond that, I have no expectations.”
“I wonder if you have higher expectations of me than I have come to have of you, Eliza.”
“I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Well, whatever expectations I had of you in the days before our marriage, surely they are all blown away now, are they not?”
“I cannot think what I have done to upset you, Augustus. I have enquired after your health and willingly chosen to spend time with you. How can that possibly make you angry?”
“Because you have not done so willingly, Eliza. You have done so to appease me and nothing more.”
“And in my position, Sir, what would you do?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“In my position, what would you do? If you had been spoken to so roughly … if you had been made to feel afraid and told that you might not speak your mind because that would be belligerent, what would you do? Would you not seek to appease and do anything in your power to keep peace in this house?”
“You act as if I have done something so terrible to you.”
“And you act as if you have not,” she said and glared at him.
“I have told you before that I will not be spoken to in this manner.”
“And yet you ask questions of me that you expect to be answered. I am answering you truthfully, and that is all. I am doing what you ask, am I not?”
“I think that your father really ought to have told me beforehand how very clever you think yourself, Eliza. But let me tell you, clever women never do well in this life unless they do what they can to hide it.”
“I see,” she said, not wanting to argue with him any further, not wanting to risk making things worse.
But her response only angered him further, and she could see it immediately. Her heart began to pound, and she knew that this was not going to end well.
The only thing that would have worked was her complete supplication, her full and gracious acceptance of his apology, whether she truly accepted it or not.
Now, any attempt to appease him would anger him as much as any attempt to speak her mind. Eliza realized that she had walked headlong into a situation in which she could not win, and she was certain that she had perversely done so knowingly.
“If you utter the words I see once more, Eliza, so help me God I will strike you,” he said and furiously gulped down another glass of brandy.
“I would beg that you do not do that, Sir. I am very sorry for offending you.”
“And yet you do not look sorry, Eliza. You look as cold and as aloof as you always look.”
“I cannot help the way I look, Augustus.”
“Yes, I think you can. You are so determined to be against me, are you not?”
“I have done nothing to you, Augustus.”
“And you have done nothing for me, have you?”
“I had thought that I had done everything a wife was expected to do, truly I had.”
“Oh yes, you spend time in my company, you listen to my conversation and respond, you lay at my side at night. But you make it very clear, albeit silently, that you despise me.”
“I do not despise you,” she said and could do nothing to make the sentence sound true.
“Perhaps that is why you have failed to conceive? If your heart is not in it, I daresay it has done something to halt the natural process.” He stared at her, and she could think of nothing to say. “Yes, that will be why!” He spoke a little louder and seemed momentarily pleased to have alighted upon such an idea.
“You will have to try to think and feel a little differently, Eliza, if you are ever to be even vaguely satisfactory as a wife. Perhaps you need a little more time to concentrate your efforts on the thing, rather than continually writing letters and going out to play bridge.”
“I go but once a week, Augustus.” Her throat felt tight as she began to feel her tiny freedoms about to be ripped from her.
“And yet you find the need to write in between to that friend of yours. You are giving too much energy away, Eliza, and I will not have it. There will be no more bridge, no more going out to see your friend, and no more letters. It is time you concentrated your efforts on your duties here. It is time you took responsibility for your failure to provide me with an heir.”
“My failure? My failure?” Eliza could hear her voice rising with anger, and she knew that she was playing the most dangerous game of all. And yet she could not stop. If she was to lose Ariadne too, she was to lose everything.
Her old life, her home, her family, her beloved Miles, and now Ariadne. It was far too much. “I am not the one who sleeps through every night so soundly after too much liquor, am I? I am not the one who makes himself unhealthy, unfit in every way. I have done everything you have asked of me, even though I can truly tell you that it gave me no pleasure. And why would it, Augustus? Your expectations of me were too high, you were right. How could you think that you would bring a young woman into your home and have her be happy about it? I had a life, Augustus, I had a man of my own age I was set to marry, and yet you think that I should be thrilled to lie in your bed. Well I am not, and I make no apology for it. And as for my failure, you would do well to look at yourself, for I cannot think that you will ever father a child whilst your greatest love in this life is that decanter!” By the time she had finished, Eliza was shouting.
The Duke stared at her throughout, his eyes wide and his mouth agape as if he could not quite believe what he was hearing. But Eliza knew that his senses would soon come back to him, and he would not sit static for very long.
“I have never, in all my days, heard any woman speak that way to a man. How dare you suggest that I am not fit to father a child? How dare you insult me in such a way in my own home? I was right to tear you down at the dinner table; you are fit for nothing else. But I will not put up with any more of this; I will not have you indulging your own haughty ways for another minute.” Finally, he began to rise to his feet, and Eliza knew that she could not stay there.
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 11
