Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

T he journey would take five hours, and it crawled by.

Beth wanted to speak to him, but that ease of conversation that she had felt when they first met had dissipated and now she had no words to speak. She looked at her ring, which was pretty enough and clearly of a certain value, but it was hardly a talking point.

Or was it?

“Was it your mother’s?” She asked.

“Was what my mother’s?”

“The ring. I am not saying that it looks old, of course.”

“It was, yes,” he admitted, “Though it holds no sentimental value to me.”

“Did you not love her?”

“Of course I did, endlessly so, but she… her marriage was not one I would wish to replicate, but on such short notice it was the only ring I had on hand.”

“I see.”

She fiddled with it, twisting it around her finger. Was it a sign? Did it mean that their marriage would also be an unhappy one? She didn’t have the heart to ask for another, in any case, because she did not wish to appear greedy. It was also an unnecessary thing to do, given that their marriage wasn’t even a real one in the first place.

She sighed.

As a girl, she had dreamed of the perfect husband until she was eight years old. At that point, her mother gave her the harsh truth of her situation. She would marry whichever man posed the most advantageous match for her family, and have a smile on her face as she did so. She would provide an heir, and that would be that.

She could possibly find love and happiness in running a household, or caring for her children, but in her husband? It simply wouldn’t happen. They were not that sort of family, and she was not that sort of girl.

“So,” he tried after a while, “Did you ever learn to do those things ladies are forced into?”

Endlessly. She had hoped that talents might lead her to a better marriage, one that she could have a say in and convince her parents was a good match, not that it ever made a difference. She wondered if her parents knew why she tried so hard, and kept the truth from her because if she was aware that they would choose a man for her then she wouldn’t feel the need to try in the first place.

“Horrifically so,” she laughed emptily, “I spent so much time with my music teacher that my knuckles were purple from having them rapped when I played the wrong notes on the pianoforte.”

“And your parents were happy with that? That is cruel!”

“Well, I received a second punishment from them for being a nuisance to the teacher, but they were happy with the teacher for doing it. In the end I suppose it paid off. I have to admit, I do play rather well. I am also quite good with watercolors, and sewing, and I speak French and Spanish fluently. They did everything they could to make me the perfect little wife. I should have been more grateful, I suppose.”

“You shouldn’t have been grateful for that treatment. They had no right to treat you that way, especially if you were a child.”

“But I am grateful for it, in a way. I could never have done all of the things I can do now had they not ensured that I learned. Besides, it is not as though I didn’t find a way to entertain myself when they were not looking.”

“Oh? And how did you do that?”

“Horse riding,” she explained, suddenly feeling quite warm again, “I adore it, and given how much my mother and father wished to engage with high society, they were away often. It meant that I could do as I pleased, and that was spending time with my horses.”

“I never learned. In Glasgow, I could walk everywhere, and there wasn’t exactly space for us all to have our own horse, nor the funds for it.”

“I could teach you,” she offered, “You would enjoy it, I think.”

“There is no need. In a year’s time, I shall be in Scotland once again and there will be no use knowing how to ride a horse. It would be just as useful teaching you how to serve drinks to old men.”

She gave in, looking out of the window instead. Once again, she had a husband that had no interest in her, nor the things she said, nor the things she wished to do. At least this time, she considered, he wasn’t outright unkind to her.

Eventually, the road changed and the houses became fewer and further between. That was her sign that they were arriving soon. Her new home, possibly the first place she would ever truly feel that she belonged to. She would have to feel that way eventually, she realized, because it would be her final chance.

She turned to ask him about the estate, but he had followed her in looking out of the window. She studied him, his face much kinder than it had been that morning, and his body broad and tall. He was imposing, and she hadn’t noticed until that moment just how fearsome he could be if needed.

“Are you enjoying the view?” He asked, looking at her reflection in the window.

He had caught her staring.

She wasn’t staring, of course. He was simply blocking the view of the other side, and so she had no choice but to look at him instead. She sighed. She could not even convince herself of that.

“It isn’t London, that much is certain.” She replied instead of engaging.

“No, and thank heavens for that.”

“So you like the estate, then?” She asked, and his smirk faded.

“Well, it is certainly a house.”

“Please answer my question. There is no need to hide anything from me; it is not as though I can go anywhere if I am not pleased.”

“It is an old house,” he explained, seemingly reluctant to tell her, “And cold, and big but not in an enchanting sort of way. It simply seems vast and empty, like a desert, but freezing in wintertime.”

“Then we are fortunate that it is spring,” she nodded.

One of them had to hold some sort of optimism about the situation, and if her husband was not going to do it then she would do so for the both of them.

“It is not yet warm, though.”

“That does not signify. It is a home, and therefore it is enough.”

“If you are so easily pleased, then perhaps this year will not be so awful after all.”

“I told you, My Lord, I am desperate. I would not be doing all of this if there was no need for it.”

“Likewise.”

“So, you do not like where you live?”

“I haven’t since I first saw it. It certainly wasn’t what I had been expecting.”

“You mean to say that you did not grow up here?”

“No, I grew up in Scotland. I didn’t see this estate until the year prior to my father’s death. I had no interest in acquiring it then and I have no interest in keeping it now, but for the sake of my sisters I will do so. Frankly, once I return to Scotland if you wish to leave it behind also then you are more than welcome to. Leave it to ruin for all I care.”

Beth blinked. For all that had been said of him, none of it seemed to have been the truth. It could well have been a carefully constructed excuse as to why he couldn’t have done what was claimed of him, but Beth knew better. He truly did hate his position in society.

“Well, if doing right by your sisters is your motive, why did you take me away from London so quickly?”

“Because London is the worst place for all of the things I am trying to avoid.”

“But if your aim was to show yourself to be this upstanding gentleman worthy of his title, why did you not parade me around for a while to show just how well you have become accustomed to it?”

“Did you want me to do that?” He asked, “To flaunt you like an expensive pocket watch, or a peacock?”

“Like a wife. It would have shown them what your intentions are, and truly proven why you are the right man for your title.”

“Simply marrying an Englishwoman of noble birth is enough to do those things,” he explained, “Or rather, it should be. It did not matter who you were, only that you were English. It proves that I do, at least a little, enjoy the company of the English, and that I am not some sort of England hating lunatic that dreams only of returning to my home.”

“Which is, of course, the very opposite of who you are.”

“For the next year, it will be.”

“And then what? Will you return once more?”

“That is my intention. I will be away on business, tending to matters there just as I did for ten years. It is peaceful there, or at least it is the right sort of noise.”

“And I shall…”

“You shall do whatever pleases you. Have a companion come to stay with you, or leave yourself and make a life for yourself with my funds, or stay and sew and play the pianoforte like a good little wife should. I will not care, and if I am the one you vowed to obey then you will not disappoint anyone of consequence.”

“Does marriage truly mean that little to you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It simply does. Not everything has to have a reason, Miss Harvelle.”

“Beth.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised as if she had said a most scornful expletive.

“Well, in light of the circumstances, it might be better if the two of us referred to one another by our first names?”

“But I do not know you.”

“I have your last name. As far as the law is concerned I am no longer a Miss, nor a Harvelle. I am Lady Winston, Countess of Colton. You may choose to call me by something resembling that, but I think Beth will do just fine.”

He laughed. It wasn’t menacing, or even unkind, more of surprise than anything.

“I hadn’t thought that you would care so deeply for the title. Then again, any lady seeking a husband does.”

“It did not matter beforehand, as you know. However, now that you and I are married, I should like to be called by the name I have now, lest I be forced to remember the life I led before each and every time you speak to me.”

He seem to understand that far more.

“Very well, Beth it is.”

“Good,” she nodded, before realizing that the carriage had come to a stop.

“Have we arrived?”

“We have indeed. Now, I have already told you to keep any expectations low, so any disappointment that you feel is of your own accord. Do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Ah, so you need not call me by my name?”

“I can if you wish. Now, are you going to keep me in here for as long as possible or can I see my home?”

“Home might be putting it a little kindly, but if you insist.”

He left the carriage and helped her exit it too. When she turned to the house, she felt her stomach drop.

It was certainly big, and it was certainly old.

In truth, Adam had been honest with her completely. It was almost decrepit, with vines spindling across the front in a most unkempt fashion and some bricks chipped. It was no wonder that he had been accused of not fulfilling his role, as if the appearance of his home was any reflection of his work as an Earl, then there was no helping him.

Not that he had asked that of her, of course, and not that she had offered. He seemed content letting it all go to waste, but that only made her fearful. If he could make a house look like this after ten years, what would he do to her after one?

“Are you content with this?” He asked.

She wanted to say no. She wanted to scramble back into the carriage and have them take her back to London. She wanted to free the horse from the carriage and ride her back there herself.

But that would have been improper. She was a wife now, and she had promised that she would be by his side in her vows to him. Even if they meant nothing, they had to at least guide her actions.

For the year, that was.