Chapter 19

CHAPTER19

Emily stared at Jacob from a distance, waiting for him to say anything, perhaps even look at her. At least then she would have some comfort, and not feel so isolated in this rushed marriage, yet he never glanced her way once.

As the wedding breakfast came to a close, they stood by the entrance of his house together, saying goodbye to their guests and thanking them all for their good wishes.

Saying goodbye to her family was the hardest part. Her father looked away rather hurriedly, escaping the house as quickly as he could. From the way Daniel clapped him on the shoulder in comfort, she suspected her father was suffering some pain at the turn of events. Emily clung to Rachel for as long as she could, so much so that Rachel was the one who actually pulled back from the embrace.

“Never thought I would see the day you clung to me so tightly,” Rachel whispered.

“Perhaps things change,” Emily observed, her voice quiet.

“Look after yourself. Remember what I said before.”

Emily nodded and released her sister completely, allowing Rachel to leave and hurry after her husband. The last person Emily said goodbye to was Bridget. They clung to one another in a warm embrace with Emily’s arms wrapped around her sister’s shoulders.

“What a strange turn of events has taken place,” Bridget whispered in her ear, rather wistfully. “Write to me any time and I will come to you. You know that.”

“Thank you,” Emily whispered and stepped back.

Bridget merely nodded and curtsied to Jacob in passing, not sharing a single word with him before she passed through the door. With the final guest gone, Jacob turned to the door and closed it. He turned his back against the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh and his head turned up to the ceiling.

Emily glanced around the empty hallway and turned back to face him.

“Well?” she murmured.

“Well, what?”

“You and I are married now. I should like to think we are able to share a single conversation together, even if you could not deign to manage it throughout our… celebratory wedding breakfast.” On the emphasized word, he lowered his gaze, his eyes finding her own.

“You are hardly dancing for joy either,” he pointed out tartly.

“That might have had something to do with my betrothed having to be threatened into marriage. Better yet, perhaps it concerns his plain look of misery throughout the service.”

“I wonder why.” He pushed away from the door and walked toward the stairs.

I cannot let it end this way. No, this shall not be my lasting memory of this day.

Grasping the skirt of her gown in her hands, she chased after Jacob. Cutting him off the stairs she stood before him, now at his head for she was on a higher step.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyes darting down to her clothes. She saw that look and recognized it at once—it was the same look they’d shared before, such as the night when they had gone into the garden together, or even in the cloakroom during the concert.

“Well, at least I know there is one thing you can bear about me.”

He snatched his gaze back up again.

“Is that really all you can stand? To just stare at me?”

“We are not having this conversation here,” he hissed as sounds entered the entrance hall. Emily looked around to see staff hurrying in, heading toward the dining table to clear up from the wedding breakfast. Her distracted glance enabled Jacob to escape her. He circled her, walking up the steps, forcing her to chase after him again.

“Jacob!” she called, racing after him. She reached him at the top step and pulled on his arm, urging him to look back at her again. “At least tell me this.”

“What?” he whispered, looking down at the staff, clearly worried that they would be overheard.

“Tonight,” she murmured, swallowing around a nervous lump in her throat. “Tell me you will come to me.”

“What!?” he sputtered, stepping down toward her again. He came so near that she reached out to him on impulse and took his arm.

“Come to me tonight. It is our wedding night, is it not?”

“Are you asking me to…” He trailed off, his hand finding her waist. They both looked down at the staff once more, but they seemed uninterested in their master’s presence, hurrying in and out of the dining room as they gathered the discarded plates and trenchers of food. “You are asking for me to complete my marital duties?” Jacob asked, snatching Emily’s attention back toward him.

“Well, you seemed most eager to pay me attention before. Surely you can come tonight. Please, Jacob. I wish to talk.”

“Talk?” He actually smiled, but it seemed belittling, so much so that Emily released his arm. “I could have sworn you were asking me to do something else entirely.” She brushed his hand off her waist, so irked at his arrogance that she was in danger of falling down the stairs. She gripped the banister, and he went to help her, to steady her, but she brushed him off again.

“I wished to talk, that is all. Come to me tonight, Jacob.”

“I am sorry, Emily, but I cannot.”

“What? Why on earth not?” Her voice pitched high, and he waved a hand at her, urging her to stay calm when the staff could overhear them. “With your reputation, you startle me you care at all what your staff thinks of you. I wonder how many women have traipsed these corridors before me, though none of them claimed the title wife.”

He flinched at her words, as if she had struck him with them.

“Why will you not come tonight?” she pleaded.

“Trust me when I say this,” he whispered, his voice turning deeper. “It is for the best.” With these final words, he turned away and hurried across the landing, not glancing back at her once.

Dumbstruck, Emily stood at the top of the stairs, uncertain where to turn and look. Eventually, with her hands trembling, she walked down the stairs, pulling at the skirt of her wedding gown.

Her eyes darted around her new home. The vast house was larger than her father’s, as great as Daniel’s, though differently decorated. Where Daniel’s house was old with outdated furniture in desperate need of updating, which Rachel was slowly changing, Jacob’s house expressed the latest fashion.

The Palladian-style entrance hall was flanked by six pillars on either side of the room, made of white and pink marble. Between these pillars were busts on white plinths, each one bearing the image of some famous man. Paintings attached to the walls were of vast landscapes, each one alive with color and pastoral activity.

Despite the room’s beauty, Emily could not dwell on it for long. Her mind was distracted, absorbed with Jacob’s utter refusal to visit her that night. Slowly, she dropped down and sat on the bottom step, feeling far from the mistress of this house. She felt more like an abandoned woman, discarded, a casual acquittance that Jacob had brought home for a night.

“Goodness, Your Grace, what a place to sit!” a young man hurried forward. The animated voice startled Emily so much that she jerked to sit up straight.

Before her there was a man with manicured features and golden hair brushed back. He was a little older than her with a boyish face and a rounded stomach. With exuberance, he rubbed his hands together and bowed.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Gary Harlow, your husband’s footman.” He gestured to himself, then waved over his shoulder. “Shall I introduce you to the rest of your staff?”

“Oh, my staff.” She smiled with the words. “To be honest, Mr. Harlow, it sounds strange indeed to think of it like that. I am not sure I am used to being mistress of a house just yet.”

“Then being a duchess must be a shock too,” he said good-naturedly with a warm smile.

“It is indeed.” Rather charmed by his boyish ways, she rose to her feet.

“Well, as the Duke has retreated,” he glanced upward, looking uncertain about where Jacob had gone, but clearly intending to brush over the matter, “let me introduce you to the staff.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.” Emily stiffened her spine and stepped off the stairs, intent on trying to make the most of her new home. Perhaps she couldn’t be welcomed here by Jacob, but he was not the only one who lived in this house.

“Your Grace, may I introduce the butler, Payton.”

Payton was an elderly man, austere at first glance and quiet. When he revealed the smallest of smiles as he looked at the footman, Emily supposed that he was actually rather fond of the young man, and only too glad to let him do the talking, even though such introductions should have been more the responsibility of the butler than the footman.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Emily said, bowing her head in acknowledgment.

“Welcome,” Payton said, using as few words as possible.

“This is the housekeeper, Mrs. Wright.” Harlow gestured to Mrs. Wright who stood beside Payton. A short and rounded woman who clasped her hands together repeatedly with an ever-present smile.

“Oh, it is lovely to meet you, Your Grace. How glad we are to have a young lady around the house at last. I am sure you will bring some fresh air to this house,” she spoke eagerly, bobbing more than one curtsy.

Emily smiled and recognized an eager talker when she saw one.

“Thank you, you are most kind.” Emily tried to keep her smile in place as she looked around the staff, recognizing that there was another who should have made these introductions.

Jacob should be here. Does he despise me so much that he cannot even bear my company now?

“I wonder if I could ask for one of you to show me around the house, please?” Emily asked, looking at each of the three in turn. “It seems my husband… has been taken ill.” She reached for the lie and glanced at the ceiling.

“Unfortunate, is it not?” Harlow agreed with a firm nod, clearly eager to agree with the lie to brush over any awkwardness.

“Most unfortunate indeed,” Mrs. Wright agreed. “His stomach was always sensitive, though. Perhaps he has had too much champagne to celebrate.”

I am not sure he was celebrating at all.

Emily kept the thought to herself.

“Come, Mrs. Wright and I can show you around,” Harlow insisted, gesturing to a door nearby.

“Thank you.”

“Yes, we shall.” Mrs. Wright hastened to follow, her feet moving fast beneath her. “I hope you shall settle into your new home well, Your Grace. The Duke has informed me that if there’s anything you wish to change about the house, please do let me know, and we will make arrangements to see it done.”

Emily halted in the doorway to what appeared to be a ballroom. She stared at Mrs. Wright in pure bafflement.

“He is content for me to make changes? He even informed you of this?”

“Oh yes, most certainly.” Mrs. Wright nodded and beckoned her further inside the room.

Emily stumbled into the middle of the ballroom, her jaw slackening in awe at the beauty of the room. There was not a surface that was not ornate or beautifully made, with duck-egg blue panels, white moldings on the ceilings, and golden engravings around the windows. Emily stood in the middle of the floor and turned under a long crystal chandelier. The beeswax candles were thrust into the spindles, ready to be lit for some fine event.

“He was determined, Your Grace, that everything should be the way you wish it,” Mrs. Wright continued.

Apart from his company, it seems. Jacob was not content to give me that.

* * *

Emily sat numbly at the dinner table, her anger so palpable that she breathed deeply, fearing her nostrils flared.

At her side, Harlow kindly filled her wine glass. When she took an eager sip, he offered to fill it up a little more.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he offered her a small smile.

“Whatever you need.” He retreated from the room, leaving the carafe at the dining table beside her.

“At least the staff here are welcoming,” Emily mumbled as she stared at the empty space at the head of the table.

As it was their wedding night, Jacob’s mother was away from home. Emily had heard from Mrs. Wright that the Dowager Duchess wished to give them privacy. Emily now wished the lady had not made such a resolution; at least then Emily would have had someone to talk to.

When footsteps sounded, Emily sat forward in her chair, peering through the candles that were set out on the table and toward the doorway, in high expectation. At last, her wishes were answered, and Jacob appeared.

Just like her, he had changed out of his wedding clothes. He wore a much more modest suit and hadn’t even bothered with his jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he hurried to his chair at the head of the table. He pulled it out and sat down, his eyes glancing at Emily constantly.

“Good evening,” Emily declared with false cheer, finding some amusement at the moment. “Oh yes, lovely afternoon, thank you for asking how it passed.” She saw on his face the trace of a smile, though he did not give into to the temptation to laugh. “How about yours? Were you not lonely tucked away in your chamber all afternoon? I had a tour of my new home. A tour that had to be given by your kind staff, as you refused to give it.”

He grimaced as he reached for the carafe on the table and poured out his own wine.

“I trust you like the house?” he said, seeming rather interested in her answer.

“It is beautiful,” she murmured, but with little enthusiasm. “What I wish to know is why my husband refused to be the one to show it to me?”

“I have my reasons.” He put the stopper on top of the carafe and lifted the glass to his lips, tipping it back. The way he slumped in his chair captured Emily’s attention. One of his arms hung loosely over the arm of the seat, the fingers loose, and there was a warm pinkness across his cheeks.

“How much liquor have you had today?” she asked.

“Ah, caring for me like a mother, now.”

“Enough, Jacob.” She shook her head and looked away. Stabbing at the chicken on her plate, she attempted to eat the meal, but it all tasted dry in her throat. It was well made, yet her mind scarcely acknowledged that.

In contrast, Jacob showed little interest in eating at all. He seemed more intent on topping up his glass once again.

Emily could not bear the silence that followed anymore. She placed down her cutlery on either side of her plate, thudding the table loudly and turned toward him. His head angled toward her, those eyes looking strangely out of focus.

“Do you despise me so much that you cannot show me around my new home?”

“Despise you?” he spluttered, putting down his glass and leaning across the table. “Surely all that has passed between us shows such a thing would be impossible for me to feel.”

“No.” She shook her head. “A man who cared for me in the slightest would not have left me so alone or isolated today.” She pushed back the chair, deciding she’d said her piece and that was enough.

“Where are you going?” he asked, standing too and following her around the table. He must have been drunk and had more liquor before he came down for dinner, because he stumbled, nearly tripping on one of the chairs.

“I am giving you what you so desire,” she said snidely and rounded the last corner of the table, heading for the door. “I am leaving you alone.”

“Emily, wait.” He caught her arm and pulled her back toward him. His pull was unintentionally strong, and she fell into his chest, startled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You smell of liquor,” she pointed out.

“Well, maybe I am trying to deal with certain things right now.”

“Liquor is no way to deal with anything!”

“Perhaps not.” He nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes closing as if trying his best to steady himself again. “I cannot have you marching from this room thinking I hate you.” He opened his eyes, those blue eyes burrowing into hers. “I do not. You’re just going to have to trust me that I am behaving the way I am for the right reasons.”

“I find that hard to imagine.” She scoffed, shaking her head, abruptly aware that neither one of them had released the other. Her hands were still flat on his chest and his fingers were on her waist, touching her lightly. “We are supposed to be married. Do not married couples share secrets?”

“Not all married couples are so open.”

“Then what is there left for us to do?” she cried, thrusting her hands into his chest angrily. “You are a husband that denies me your company, your patience, and now your secrets too. Do you wish us to live as strangers? To be nothing to one another?”

“Perhaps it is the best way.”

“No, no it is not!” she cried aloud.

“Why not?”

“Because…” She had no answer. With her breath coming and going fast, she scrambled to think of something to say. Unable to summon words, she chose action instead. Pulling down on the edges of his waistcoat, she tugged Jacob toward her, so she could kiss him. Their lips collided suddenly, and she feared for a moment that he would push her off angrily, but no such thing happened.

Abruptly, and with sudden fierceness, he kissed her back.