Chapter 16

CHAPTER16

“You could not sleep either?” Joanna whispered to Pegasus, rubbing his nose in the low light of the stables.

The horse nickered.

“I have misjudged him,” Joanna sighed, resting her forehead against her stallion’s. “Everyone has misjudged him, and those awful scandal sheets are to blame.”

She had retired to her chambers after Edwin’s revelations, but she had tossed and turned restlessly, unable to find peace in the dark solitude of her unfamiliar room. Her mind still raced with the story of her husband, more tragic and heart-rending than she ever could have imagined. Now, she thought she understood why he had hidden away from society for a decade, for gossip was often more powerful than the truth.

“Why would he want to suffer through the secondary pain of being judged, as I judged him?” she asked Pegasus, who snuffled her hair. “Yes, he did kill his father, but in defense of his brother. I think that is far more honorable, and far less reprehensible than the behavior of those fools who kill each other in duels.”

Unless he is lying… a voice in her head whispered. It had crossed her mind once or twice since leaving Edwin in the library, but the sorrow in his voice was not the kind that could be performed or feigned, nor was the weight of sadness that had furrowed his brow and urged his mouth into a subtle tremble.

“I thought I heard voices.”

Joanna gave a start, whipping around as Jane appeared at the far end of the stables.

The young lady frowned. “Are you alone, Your Grace?”

“I… sometimes talk to my horse when I cannot sleep,” Joanna confessed, her heart pounding out of her chest. Had Jane heard anything, or did she already know what Joanna had recently discovered?

Jane chuckled warmly. “I used to do that with my dog. I lost her this past year, and I am yet to entirely recover.” She walked closer, offering her hand for Pegasus to sniff. “This is your horse?”

“My dearest companion,” Joanna confirmed, noting with some satisfaction that Pegasus turned his face away from the offered hand and nudged Joanna instead. “Are you also restless this evening?”

Jane stifled a yawn. “I am rarely able to sleep when I am away from Rowley Manor. There is nothing so comforting as one’s own bedchamber, is there?” Her eyes widened and she clamped a hand to her mouth. “Goodness, that was unkind! I did not mean to… oh, forgive me—you speak to your horse, I speak without thinking.”

“You are swiftly forgiven,” Joanna replied with a smile. “I do miss my own bedchamber, though I miss my family more.”

Jane nodded, her forehead pinching for a moment. “It has been five years since I have seen mine. You would think the ache of absence would ease, but it does not.”

“Five years?” Joanna gasped.

“I was sent to Peggy to receive an education in how to be a lady, and I suppose my education has not yet ended. Not that I have any desire to leave Peggy—she is as dear to me as my close family.” Jane grimaced. “There I am again, speaking without thinking.”

Joanna laughed softly, feeling comfortable in Jane’s company. “It is not quite the same, is it? I have already formed a fondness for Mrs. Hislop, but I would still run in an instant if I heard my sister had skinned her knee.”

“I have always wished I had a sister,” Jane said wistfully. “My brothers are not quite so willing to discuss fashions and novels, nor do they allow me to put ribbons in their hair to see how they look. They did once, but never again.”

She is not my sister, but perhaps she would make an excellent companion for me, too, Joanna considered, though a week was not nearly long enough to know if a lovely friendship would blossom. Still, it was more than she had had earlier that day.

“Will you take luncheon with me tomorrow?” Joanna asked. “Peggy, too. There is something I wish to discuss, and I believe the two of you would be of enormous help.”

Jane brightened. “I should be delighted! I will inform Peggy just as soon as she awakens in the morning.” She hesitated, “Maybe, an hour after she has awoken. She is quite the grump in the mornings, especially when she has not yet had her tea.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Joanna’s heart lifted, the weight of an uncertain future no longer seeming as heavy, for she might have a few others to help her share the load.

I could become accustomed to this, she mused, scratching the itchy spot between Pegasus’s ears as Jane retreated with an excited, “Tomorrow!”

As the beginning of marriages went, Joanna’s had been decidedly grim, and the manor was merely the shoddy decoration atop the unpleasant cake, but there was an undeniable shift in the air. A feeling of hope, and that not everything had been lost when she had sold herself to a stranger to save her sister.

* * *

The following morning, somewhat rested despite a night spent deep in thought, Edwin descended the stairs to partake in breakfast. As he walked, the sparse members of staff stared at him as if they had never seen their master before, and though he tried not to listen, he heard their whisperings as he made his way to the breakfast room.

“It is the duchess’s influence!” a maid chirped. “They do say that marriage makes the man.”

“Whatever the duchess is doing in their bedchamber, I pray it continues!” a second maid added giddily, only to be shushed by the first.

“They do not share chambers; that is the strangest part of it all,” muttered a third. “She has not gone to him, and he has not gone to her. Unless they were up to something devilish in the library. I heard they were both there until past midnight.”

Edwin had half a mind to turn around and scold the maids for their idle and obscene chatter but worry spurred him on toward the breakfast room. He took confidence from the fact that none of the maids had mentioned Joanna fleeing in the middle of the night, but that did not mean she had not done so. After all, the majority of the thinned-out staff were asleep by one o’clock.

She took my tale well, but what if the hours since have changed her view of me once more? He swallowed thickly, and walked into the breakfast room as if nothing was bothering him at all.

Yet, his heart leaped a little at the sight of Joanna, seated at the far end of the small table. He might have deigned to offer her a thankful smile, had it not been for the additional presence of his aunt and her companion.

“My goodness, Edwin!” Peggy cried. “Are you unwell? In all the years I have visited this manor, invite or no, I have never seen you take breakfast in the proper room.”

Edwin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It is not a permanent change.”

“It is not?” Joanna said, lifting a cup of coffee to her plump lips. They seemed redder in the morning light, as if she had spent the night biting them in consternation.

“When I am occupied, I have no time to spare for such trifling things as breakfasting in the “proper room.” It is not nec—” He halted, catching Joanna’s eye as her mouth spread into a grin.

“A shilling!” she declared. “Or, perhaps, we are even.”

He cursed inwardly. “We need flowers and plants. I shall pay your tax, too.”

“A tax? What is the meaning of this?” Edwin’s aunt scrunched up her face, eyeing the newlyweds. “I hope it is not something unseemly, for this is not the proper room for such talk. That should be reserved for the bedch—”

“It is an agreement!” Edwin interrupted swiftly, before his cheeks could ignite in a flush of embarrassment. “An agreement about my vocabulary, or lack thereof.”

His aunt sat back, satisfied. “How amusing.” She looked at Joanna. “It is always wise to have little jests between yourselves. I find that is one of the many secrets to a long and happy union.”

“You hated Uncle Henry,” Edwin remarked. He could not resist.

His aunt sighed. “Eventually, yes, but we had many good years in between.”

There was more that Edwin could have said if he had chosen to be spiteful, but the vision of Joanna, precisely where he had hoped she would be, was enough to smooth his jagged edges.

He had dreamed of her again—in the library, this time. For the first night in a decade or more, there had been no nightmare, no cruel twist in the images that flooded his mind, only the particular bliss of indulging in his beautiful, enchanting wife in a way that he could not in reality. Although, that knowledge had not stopped his body from aching for her when he had awoken without her by his side.

“Husband, I have a proposition for you,” Joanna interjected, setting down her cup of coffee.

Husband… The solitary word thrilled him for a moment, breathing upon those embers of desire he had done his best to douse.

“If it is another tax, I am not interested,” he said flatly. He could not show, even a little bit, how she had begun to intrigue him.

Joanna laughed disarmingly. “Not at all. I hoped that we might ride together after breakfast, to stir my enthusiasm for the grand meeting that Peggy, Jane, and I will be having this afternoon,” she grinned. “We are to transform this manor together, husband of mine, until you will not recognize it!”

“Am I to have any say?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Of course. That is why I am asking you to ride with me,” she replied, a slight stiffness in her mouth suggesting she was anxious about his response. “We can speak of it as we enjoy the estate, for I have not seen anything beyond the gardens.”

Edwin shrugged, aware that his aunt’s eyes were boring into him. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

“Excellent!” Joanna breathed an obvious sigh of relief. “Then, let us eat and have our fill of coffee, and see what the morning has to offer us.”

Edwin took the only vacant seat, as the footman rushed to pour coffee and bring a plate of eggs.

As he ate, the women talked, allowing him a rare opportunity to observe. They spoke of inane and tedious things, like fabrics and gowns and music and poetry and what they might enjoy for their luncheon. Yet, their conversation was akin to music, in and of itself, relaxing him in a way he did not understand.

What is the meaning of this? he wondered, for if this had occurred just a week prior, he would have huffed and puffed at the banality of it all.

Bringing a forkful of eggs to his mouth, realization dawned: for the first time in years, he had company; for the first time in years, the manor was not silent and depressing. But, more than that, he had been awake for hours and had not thought about his sad history once—almost as if Joanna had taken that from him, carrying the weight of it on his behalf.

Hurriedly, he picked up his cup and gulped a mouthful of lukewarm coffee, for in the center of his chest, he could have sworn he felt a cracking of ice.