Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"I was so foolish, Edmund. I believed what Wilhelmina said—she even had a note from you, well, I thought it was from you. I've been so na?ve," Johanna said, after she had explained her version of events to him.

Edmund shook his head, the light of the lamp burning in the carriage illuminating his features. He looked terrible—pale and withdrawn, as though the shock had been overwhelming.

"You're not to blame, Johanna. I knew what they'd done the moment Wilhelmina came running to find me. A cruel trick, but one with unfortunate consequences for us both," Edmund replied.

"But we know what happened—you know I wouldn't ever...well, it's unthinkable," Johanna replied, still feeling utterly relieved at knowing Edmund believed her.

"Yes, but it's not just us, is it? It's the ton. They already have their suspicions about our marriage—that it was too hasty, that you were with child, that we were caught in a compromise in the woods together. It might all have died down, but if Lavinia and her mother put it about that...well, you were caught with another man," he said, shaking his head.

Johanna had not thought of that. She had believed Lavinia's plans had been thwarted—that her attempt at being the sympathetic shoulder had failed. But this…

"They'll hold it over us, won't they? Lavinia wanted you for herself. She's jealous, and now she'll stop at nothing to ruin us both," Johanna said, and Edmund nodded.

"I'm afraid we're in for a bumpy ride, Johanna," he said, and now he reached his hands across the compartment, taking hers and sighing.

Johanna was grateful to him for what he had done—for believing her, and for standing by her. She had been terrified of losing him, and in that terror, she had come to realize the depth of her feelings toward him. She was falling in love with him, and to think there were forces acting against them, trying to drive them apart, filled her with sorrow.

"I'm so sorry, Edmund. I was na?ve. I thought it was you behind the mask," she said, but Edmund only squeezed her hand, a weak smile coming over his face.

"You weren't na?ve. They played a cruel trick on you—a terrible trick. On us both. I'm sorry for my own naivete. I thought I could maintain an acquaintance with Lavinia—that she'd accept my having married and be done with it. I thought Roger had intentions toward her, though I can only hope he'll put them aside," Edmund replied.

Lavinia had played them all for fools, but as for getting what she really wanted, she was now further away than ever. Johanna knew there was no question of Edmund looking elsewhere, and in that, at least, she could take comfort. Their reputation in the ton might well now be ruined, but they would weather the storm together. In that moment, Johanna felt closer to Edmund than ever before, and as he held her hands in his, she knew she would never have even looked at another man as she now looked at him.

"You don't need to be sorry, either. She's the one that's done—her and her wicked mother. But they can say what they want. We know the truth, and that's all that matters," Johanna replied.

Edmund nodded.

"We do, but I fear it's Lavinia's version of events the ton will believe. Our reputations are already tarnished—questionable, at least," Edmund said, and Johanna squeezed his hands.

"Well...at least we're questionable together," she said, and now Edmund really did smile.

"You're a wonderful person, Johanna. I see it more and more with every day that passes. I can't imagine my life without you now," he said, and Johanna blushed.

She felt just the same—surprised by the depth of her feelings and the intensity with which she had begged him to believe her. To know he did meant everything to her, and Johanna was now determined to stand her ground, to stand with her husband against whatever the ton should think to believe about them.

"I feel just the same. We'll weather the storm, won't we?" she said, and he nodded.

"We'll weather it together," he replied, smiling at her, their hands still clasped together, and a new depth of feeling now existing between them.

***

"I think it's best if we cancel the Beaumont Dinner," the dowager said, after Johanna and Edmund had explained to her the next morning what had happened at the masquerade ball the previous evening.

Johanna had expected her mother-in-law to be angry—to blame her, even, for courting the attention of another man, however unintentionally. But to Johanna's surprise, the dowager had believed her—sympathized with her, even.

"Oh, but are you sure? I know you've been looking forward to it," Johanna said, but the dowager shook her head.

"I'd only worry about the two of you—and what others would say. Besides, we don't want to endure the embarrassment of refused invitations. What a cruel trick to play on you both. I certainly shan't be speaking to Wilhelmina again. But these storms can be weathered. It'll blow over, I'm sure," she said, looking at Johanna and Edmund sympathetically.

Johanna knew the storm the dowager spoke of was about to break, and she wondered as to the form it would take. Would she and Edmund be ostracized from society, receiving no invitations and having their own refused? Or would they be the objects of attention, invited into society for the very reason of ridicule, a ritual humiliation at the hands of their peers?

"They'll be waiting to see if I pursue an annulment to the marriage," Edmund said, when later that day, he and Johanna were sitting in the garden.

They had received no callers that day, no invitations—nothing but societal silence.

"Because of the impropriety?" Johanna asked, and Edmund nodded.

"It's grounds for annulment—unfaithfulness. I don't doubt the narrative Lavinia and her mother are putting forward—that you were caught in a compromising position with Lord Fitzroy, something he'll have no compunction in denying, and despite our denials, the truth of the matter stands," Edmund replied.

"I hope his face still hurts. You struck him quite a blow," Johanna said, and Edmund laughed.

There was some minor satisfaction in the memory of their parting shot in the gardens—Lord Fitzroy lying dazed in the shrubbery, and Lavinia angry at not having got her own way. But the price of that satisfaction was still to be paid, and Johanna knew that even now, Lavinia and her mother would be busy spreading the rumors of the elicit encounter.

"He deserved it, the arrogant man. I have no time for the likes of him. I'm sure he didn't know you were married, but it's no excuse to treat a woman in such a way. Had you been in the first flush of your debut and discovered in such a compromise, your name would be ruined. We know that well enough, thanks to the Parker sisters. I just don't understand why there are so many vindictive people in this world. Why can't they just accept the happiness of others instead of trying to destroy it?" he exclaimed.

His words were impassioned, and Johanna could not help but admire him for them. She admired him a great deal, more than any other man she had ever known. He was good and honorable, a man of duty and integrity. The very thought of him behaving improperly toward anyone was unthinkable. Johanna shook her head and sighed.

"I suppose it's jealousy...I have to admit, the first time I saw you with Lavinia...that's when I realized...well, I felt a certain jealousy, too. I'm ashamed to admit it. But it's such a powerful feeling," Johanna said.

It was not a nice thing to admit to. Nevertheless, that was how she had felt, and that feeling had made her realize the strength of others she had shied away from. Edmund smiled.

"There was never anything to worry about. Now, let's talk of happier things—I'm secretly rather pleased to think there'll be no Beaumont Dinner. But tell me about your plans for the orangery," he said, and Johanna smiled.

She had been thinking a lot about his suggestion of her taking charge of the gardens at Beaumont Abbey, and around the orangery, too. She had paid a visit to the British Library, examining texts on the cultivation of citrus trees and on the kinds of fruits she might attempt to grow.

"Well, I think we'll begin with oranges and lemons—but I want to grow them on trellises. It's a technique I've read about in several books I've consulted. The trees can be trained over trellises, giving them a structure over which to grow. I think it could work very well in the orangery at Beaumont Abbey," Johanna replied.

The earl smiled.

"It sounds like an excellent idea," he said, and now Johanna continued to explain her plans for the orangery and the garden, happy to have something to distract her from the impending troubles to come, and glad to have Edmund at her side to weather them with.