Chapter 27

CHAPTER27

Waking to the bluish hue of dusk with his wife in his arms, her bare leg draped over his, her hand pressed protectively on the spot above his heart, her head upon his shoulder, Edwin had never known peace like this. He could have stayed there for hours, listening to the soft whisper of her breath, relishing her warmth. But the house was stirring and, with it, the shrill voice of his aunt, making it impossible for anyone to sleep.

“Neither of them has emerged from their chambers?” he heard his aunt complain, her footsteps thudding in the hallway beyond the bedchamber door. A second set of footsteps hurried in the same direction, and Edwin thought he heard the bump of someone’s back hitting the door.

“I am afraid Her Grace asked not to be disturbed,” Mrs. Hislop declared at a volume that was clearly meant as a warning to those within. “My Lady, if you would go downstairs to the dining room, I can arrange for a light dinner to be brought to you. Her Grace has insisted on taking a tray, later this evening.”

Edwin smiled, cherishing the day’s exploits all the more for their privacy. It had almost been like a different world, where only he and his wife existed, and they had explored one another as if neither had encountered a human of the opposite sex before. It had been quite the education for both of them. A thrilling lesson in pleasure.

Edwin’s aunt huffed like a raging bull. “It is past seven!” she insisted. “I would not dare to tell a duchess how to behave, but she ought to tend to her guests when they have awoken.”

“The journey exhausted her. She is unaccustomed to gatherings that are further afield, and when I last spoke with her, she told me that her fatigue had produced a rather passionate headache,” Mrs. Hislop replied, and Edwin imagined the housekeeper stretching her arms across the door to block any attempt his aunt might make to enter without permission.

Passionate? Edwin blinked, embarrassment tingling up his throat. How much did Mrs. Hislop know? Worse still, how much had she heard? Mrs. Hislop might have known him since he was a child, but there were some things he would have preferred her to be oblivious of.

“Well, inform her that I should like to dine with her,” Edwin’s aunt said haughtily. “I hate to dine alone, and my dear Jane also appears to have succumbed to a headache. I do hope it is nothing catching, though these young ladies have such feeble constitutions in comparison to ours, at that age.”

Mrs. Hislop cleared her throat. “I will inform her, My Lady, but I can’t make any promises that she’ll be well enough to dine.”

Edwin’s aunt stomped away and, a moment later, Mrs. Hislop abandoned her post without so much as a knock on the door. The kindly gesture pleased Edwin, for he suspected that even if Joanna had been alone, Mrs. Hislop would not have awoken her.

They cherish her, he knew, his heart so full he could have sprinted fifty laps of the manor grounds, cheering his marriage, championing the love that continued to blossom between him and his wife. A love so unexpected that it felt like a gift from the heavens, or from two very special people who—he hoped—watched him from the heavens.

Just then, Joanna stirred, stretching out her long limbs and slender body, already wearing a smile. A smile on nothing else. “Good morning,” she purred, pulling his head toward her, to kiss him.

“It is seven o’clock in the evening,” he replied against her soft lips.

She frowned. “Why is it always seven o’clock in the evening?”

“I could not say.”

She shrugged and continued to kiss him, slipping her hand down his stomach and underneath the corner of coverlet that concealed his dignity. “Then, let it stay seven o’clock,” she murmured, coaxing a gasp from his throat, “for then we shall never be late and never early.”

“My aunt has asked you to dine with her,” Edwin mumbled, his mind swimming as Joanna toyed with him.

She tutted. “I do not want to think of anything or anyone beyond this room,” she told him. “It is only the two of us, and, right now, you are the only thing I have an appetite for.”

Kissing him harder, she eased her leg over his hip, bracing one hand against his waist to pull herself on top of him. There, she lay flush against him, lavishing her kisses upon his neck, his jaw, his chest, everywhere she could, while her hand sought to revive the part of him that needed no encouragement.

“Oh, my love,” he whispered, as she sank down upon him, convincing him for the thousandth time since their wedding that he was the luckiest man on Earth.

* * *

The following week transformed Bruxton Hall from a world of blissful paradise to a constant, gray anxiety that rolled in with the weather. The temperate spring became cold and stormy, and Edwin could not concentrate on the business correspondence that piled upon his writing desk. He could not concentrate on anything but his beloved wife, who had fallen ill the morning after they spent an entire day and night in bed together. Thus far, her condition had not improved, and the physician could not offer any satisfactory answers.

“It is a spring cold,” Mrs. Hislop insisted for the hundredth time, as she brought Edwin a luncheon tray. “There is nothing to fear. She is feverish, yes, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen in all my years of tending to poorly staff and even you and your brother, when you were little.”

Edwin had chewed his lower lip raw, but he could not cease the nervous habit. “What if it is not? What if it is this house, blighting her as it has blighted all of us? I knew it was a mistake to change so much. This is my father; I can feel him in the evil of it.”

“Must I fetch the physician back for you?” Mrs. Hislop scolded. “Your father is dead and buried, thank goodness. He can’t continue his evil from beyond the grave, though if you still allow yourself to believe that, you’ll see the unnatural where there’s only coincidence. I swear to you, it’s naught but a cold.”

Edwin expelled a strained breath. “I had happy news for her, too.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “The old copper mine has been sold at a considerable price, after a new seam was found, and I have already received a healthy return from the investment I made with part of her dowry. I was going to tell her that we could begin repairing the eastern wing.”

“Then, why not tell her?” Mrs. Hislop looked as if she wanted to grab her master and shake some sense into him. “It will cheer her immensely to hear such good news.”

Edwin shrugged. “I do not want to disturb her when she is resting. Excitement might worsen her fever, and I know she will be excited when she hears that there will be plant money in abundance, for a while at least.”

“You are your own worst enemy, do you know that?” Mrs. Hislop shook her head. “At least venture out into the gardens and take in some fresh air. You’re doing yourself no favors by stewing up here in this study.”

Edwin glanced out of the window, his heart aching as he forgetfully looked for Joanna, only to find her absent. “I suppose I could…”

“Your luncheon will keep. It’s only cold cuts and some bread. Foster an appetite first,” she encouraged, in a softer tone.

Edwin scraped back his chair, making Mrs. Hislop shudder, and got up on weary legs. Taking the warm cup of tea from the tray, he headed out of the study, sipping on the refreshing drink all the way to the gardens.

There, he found the gardener tending to the marigolds, lavender, and poppies that would begin the garden’s new life. The lavender had been planted fully-formed, adding some green and purple to the otherwise gray landscape, while the marigolds and poppies would need time to grow. In a way, Edwin thought of his marriage and his blossoming love for Joanna like those well-tended seeds.

“Afternoon to you, Your Grace,” the gardener said, pausing to wipe his brow. “Bad weather for plantin’, but the ground’ll welcome the rain.”

Edwin nodded stiffly. “I am sure it will.”

The gardener returned to his toil and, not wanting to loiter awkwardly, Edwin pressed on to the rear of the house, where he found the comfort of the stables. Bellerophon and Pegasus nickered as he entered, no doubt feeling abandoned after days of being out in the pasture, with no one taking them out on a proper ride. Edwin had had countless plans to journey across the surrounding moorland and forest with his wife, enjoying picnics wherever they pleased—and perhaps a few other delights, too—but her sudden sickness had postponed such pleasures.

“Do you miss her, too?” Edwin cautiously raised his hand to let Pegasus sniff him.

The proud, silver-white horse snorted in agreement.

“She has promised to come and bring you an apple as soon as she is better,” Edwin said.

The stallion’s ears pricked up, his noble nose sniffing more vigorously at Edwin’s hands. When the creature found no apple there, he put his giant head over the stall door and searched Edwin all over, nipping at Edwin’s tailcoat and trousers in the hopes of finding the treat.

“Will a carrot suffice?” Edwin chuckled, taking one from a nearby bucket and offering it to the stallion.

The horse stared at Edwin, as if to say, “Are you quite serious?” Nevertheless, he took the offering, crunching on it with passable contentment.

“And one for you.” Edwin took a second carrot and passed it to Bellerophon, who ate it eagerly, before lowering his head for some scratches between the ears.

“You are gifted with these creatures, Your Grace,” a gentle voice announced, making Edwin jump. Having seen the stablemaster and his boy mucking out the yard, he had assumed he would be alone.

Jane approached, carrying two apples in either hand. She looked weary and pale, her hair disheveled, but she mustered a smile as she came nearer.

“Are you not supposed to be resting?” Edwin asked, for Jane had been taken ill with the same sickness as Joanna. Indeed, she had become ill first, and though Edwin did not like to lay blame anywhere, he could not help feeling like the friendship between the two women was responsible.

Jane cast her gaze downward. “I thank you for your concern, Your Grace, but I am feeling much better. It is nothing that chicken soup and far too much sleep could not remedy.”

“I… was not concerned,” he replied flatly.

She peered up at him through long, dark eyelashes. “Of course, Your Grace. I did not mean to make assumptions.”

She went to Pegasus’s stall and offered him one of the apples in her hand. The elegant stallion sniffed at the delicacy, snorted directly in Jane’s face, and tossed his head in warning as a sharp whinny escaped his mouth. A moment later, he kicked out his back legs, slamming his hooves into the rear of his stall.

“I think you should come away from there.” Edwin lunged for Jane, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her from the stall before the horse could become any more irate; more to prevent the stallion from hurting itself than anything else, for Joanna would not have forgiven him.

Jane stared at Edwin’s hand, still gripping her. “Thank you,” she gasped, shaking. “I have been trying to befriend that beast, but it is a wretched creature. It certainly would bite the hand that fed it.”

“He obeys and listens only to my wife,” Edwin told her, hurriedly dropping her hand. “You should not attempt that again.”

Jane smiled at him. “She is truly gifted, too. Anyone would be terrified of that horse, and yet she coddles him as if he were a placid little foal.” She paused. “How is Joanna? Is she much improved? I feel awful for bringing this sickness to your residence, Your Grace, and sorrier still that it has afflicted an increasingly dear friend.”

“She is…” Edwin did not know how to answer. “She is resting.”

Jane nodded. “As she should. I thought I might take her some soup later this afternoon, but I do not want to annoy anyone. I know there are routines and servants’ duties to consider.”

“I think that would please my wife,” Edwin replied. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

He did not, but he thought it best to remove himself from a situation in which he would continue to be in close quarters with a lady who was not his wife. Jane was beautiful and charming, if a little quiet, and Edwin was certain she would soon find herself a fine gentleman, now that society seemed to be more forgiving of anyone who had ties to him. But he would not become a source of gossip in the meantime.

Stealing out of the stables, he grimaced as he passed the trio of maids who tended to Joanna. They were standing outside the kitchens, eating what appeared to be raspberry tarts.

“Your Grace,” they chorused with their mouths full, dipping into hurried curtsies.

He dipped his head in reply, pressing on into the manor.

“Your Grace, wait a moment!” Jane’s voice followed him, bringing him to a sharp halt in the passageway that cut past the kitchens. He thought he heard the maids gasp as he did so.

Edwin turned. “What is the matter?”

“You dropped this,” Jane replied, pressing something into his hand. With a smile, she rushed away, leaving him perplexed and alone, although, he could feel the heat of sly stares upon him from the maids.

Slowly, he unfurled his palm, and discovered a small piece of gold and amethyst: a pendant in the shape of a thistle that had once hung upon a necklace of his mother’s. Now, it hung upon the end of his watch fob—a dark green ribbon that held his pocket watch at one end and, ordinarily, the thistle at the other; the ribbon and thistle hanging down from the edge of his waistcoat to the top of his thigh.

The maids gasped again, but their shock could not have been greater than Edwin’s. He had not realized the thistle had dropped off, but the loss of it would have crushed him.

He glanced down the hallway to where Jane had disappeared, making a note in his mind to thank her when they next crossed paths. She could not have known what a kindness she had just done, for with his father’s curse plaguing the manor, his mother’s trinkets and lingering presence were his only line of defense.