Chapter 9

Two nights later, Tabitha smoothed her hands over her nightgown. She ran her fingers through her hair, coaxing apart the curls that Francesca, her lady’s maid, had crafted so carefully. Her husband had not touched her since their wedding night. Tabitha could not decide if she was pleased or not. His Grace—Matthew, he had insisted on being called—had told her that he waited out of respect for her.

He wanted to be certain that she was recovered and prepared for more. Tabitha wanted to be charmed by the gesture; it sounded rather considerate of him. However, she could not dismiss the growing fear that she repulsed her husband.

She had assured him she was well and that they could continue their nightly activities. Would that happen tonight? Tabitha bit her lip and sat on the edge of her bed, waiting.

At last, the bedroom door opened, and her husband entered. “Tabitha.”

“Matthew.”

Tabitha felt herself tense in anticipation. The wedding night had not been what she expected; it only slightly resembled everything she had been told about how wedding nights were supposed to be, yet it had been so wonderful. Tabitha wanted little more than to experience that pleasure again, to try and put it in words for herself. It was unlike anything she had ever felt.

She watched as her husband dressed himself for bed. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and down his well-muscled back. He cut a handsome figure, and as she looked at him, a delicious ache curled between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together.

“How are you feeling this evening?” Tabitha asked.

“Well,” he replied. “And you?”

“Quite well.”

He turned towards the bed, and Tabitha gave him a winning smile. Surely, tonight, he would touch her. They would finish what had begun on their wedding night and probably do more even after. An heir was the one thing that Matthew wanted out of this marriage, and there was only one way to make an heir.

Her husband joined her in the bed, and Tabitha’s breath hitched. Matthew turned his head towards her. “What are you waiting for?” he asked. “It is time to sleep.”

He turned his back to her, and Tabitha hesitantly lay beside him. “Good night?” The words sounded more like a question.

“Good night.”

Tabitha remained silent in the darkness, her eyes tracing the stark outline of his shoulders and down his trim figure, partially obscured by the bed linens. She drew in a sharp breath as she watched him.

If Matthew heard her, he gave no indication that he did. Was what had happened on their wedding night simply a rare happenstance? Was it like a marvel or a miracle in the old romances, something wondrous that happened once and never again?

Tabitha stared at his back for a long time, trying to decide if she had done something wrong. He had said that they would engage in the activities of the marriage bed every day, and they had not. She was not even certain that they had properly consummated the marriage, as he had never penetrated her. Tabitha was certain that penetration was necessary for consummation.

She could not think of what she might have done wrong, though. Had he changed his mind? Why would that be? Tabitha sighed and turned her back to him. She stared into the empty space of the room and tried to make sense of it all, but when dawn arrived, her sleepless night had still not produced any satisfactory answers. It seemed that her husband had decided an heir was not such an urgent need, and Tabitha just wished she knew why.

***

Another week passed, and Matthew still had not touched her. They sat together at breakfast, mostly silent save for the sounds of cutlery against plates. Meals with Matthew were always a formal affair. He sat very far away from her.

Tabitha had thought that she entered this marriage with no illusions about what it entailed, but now, she was unsure. It probably ought to be a relief that he did not think of her as a broodmare, but that realization only filled her with uncertainty. If she was not meant to give him an heir, what did he expect from her?

“What do you enjoy?” Tabitha asked.

Matthew frowned and gazed at her as if he had never quite seen her before – like he was surprised to hear her speak. “The same pastimes that most gentlemen do, I suppose.”

“An enlightening answer,” she said, unable to help herself.

Matthew laughed. “I probably deserve that.”

“You do.”

He shrugged. “I suppose I enjoy the theatre. I like a good performance.”

Tabitha straightened a little. She was well-versed in drama. “Shakespeare?” she asked.

“Every proper Englishman should appreciate the Bard,” he replied.

“I agree,” Tabitha said, pausing to drink her lemonade. “Which of his plays do you think is the best? I have always been partial to As You Like It.”

“Hamlet,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I like a good ghost story,” he confessed. “I know that is a little strange, but it is nevertheless true.”

“I find it very interesting,” Tabitha said.

Unfortunately, she had never favoured ghost stories and did not know much about them. She knew of Hamlet, though.

“Perhaps we should attend a performance,” she said.

“That would be amenable.”

The butler entered, bringing them their correspondence. Matthew glanced at his and placed it aside, so she did the same. Besides, Tabitha had received only one letter from Matthew’s sister, Lady Miriam. They had spoken briefly after the wedding, when Lady Miriam had expressed an interest in inviting Tabitha to a soiree towards the end of the Season. The letter was likely concerning that.

“After the honeymoon period, of course,” Tabitha said.

Maybe mentioning that they were supposed to be on their honeymoon would remind Matthew of his husbandly duties.

“We do not need to follow such nonsense,” he said. “Who cares what the ton thinks? If you wish to see a show, you should. Go with my blessing.”

Tabitha bit the inside of her cheek, feeling even more conflicted. She had not even known that was possible. Many women were married off to men who thought of them as nothing more than the means to produce an heir. She had thought herself destined to become one of those women, and there ought to be relief in discovering that she was not.

Their wedding night had been so pleasurable, though! It had awakened such desire within her that she had not even known was possible, and now, her husband saw fit to deprive her of it. Did he not desire her?

No, surely, he did. She had noticed the intense way he looked at her, and all those touches in the dark had not been those of a dispassionate man. What had happened, then?

“Perhaps I should visit my friend Bridgette, then,” Tabitha said.

Maybe her friend would have some insight into the strange marriage Tabitha found herself in. She contemplated asking Matthew about his behaviour, but she did not want to risk offending the man. Tabitha did not want him to believe her ungrateful. Worse, what if his hesitancy related to himself somehow? She had heard that some men had difficulty participating in carnal activities, and if he were such a man, it would be cruel to embarrass him by broaching the topic.

“You should invite Bridgette to visit here,” Matthew said. “This is your home, after all. You might consider decorating. I do not think these furnishings have been changed in … many years. I imagine they are somewhat unfashionable.”

They were not especially unfashionable, but Tabitha appreciated the sentiment. At least, Matthew had acknowledged that this was her home, also, and he had invited her to make changes to it. That was kind.

“I should like a library,” she said.

He chuckled. “My mother will be pleased to hear that. She has told me often that I should invest in one; she is an avid collector of manuscripts, you see.”

“Oh!”

“I have always insisted that my study was sufficient, but I am sure she will be delighted to discover that you share her love for the written word.”

“You do not?”

Matthew shrugged. “I am as well-read as any man, and I suppose I fancy myself something of an intellectual. I have never been particularly fond of reading for pleasure, however, only for learning.”

“I believe there can be learning in pleasure,” Tabitha offered.

Matthew raised an eyebrow, and Tabitha wondered if he had interpreted her comment as referring to their wedding night rather than anything literary.

“When you read for pleasure, you learn more about yourself,” Tabitha explained. “You learn what it is to be other people and go other places. You learn to be empathetic and to appreciate the experiences that others have.”

“An interesting philosophy,” Matthew mused. “Are you under the impression that all art should have a moral purpose?”

“Not necessarily,” she replied, “but I do feel that it should inspire us to reflect upon ourselves.”

“If you want an entire library of your own, you must intend to reflect on yourself quite often.”

“I am a fascinating subject,” she said.

Matthew laughed. That familiar intensity returned to his eyes, so powerful that Tabitha shivered even with the gulf of space that separated them. “Indeed, you are.”

“And self-edification is always a worthy goal,” Tabitha added.

“Yes,” he said. “I think so, too.”

“So if you do not read for pleasure,” Tabitha said, “how do you reflect upon yourself?”

He hummed. “I suppose I do that in the country.”

“Oh?”

“I have always derived great pleasure from riding in the forests. There is a vast one on my estate, and a path cuts through it. I enjoy going into the woods in the early morning, when the staff are only just waking, and the sun is rising. Everything is quiet and beautiful. That is when I like to reflect.”

“So in the city …”

“Some of the charm is lost,” he said, smiling wryly. “It is too loud for any sort of reflection, but I always come during the Season. Even though I rarely leave the townhouse—well, until this year—I still speak with my solicitor. He tends to my business while I am here, and I maintain correspondence with some of the men who frequent parliament. I donate a large sum to social causes in London, and when I am here, I try to see how they are progressing.”

Tabitha leaned forward in interest. “Which sorts of causes do you favour? I have always been a firm advocate for women’s education. It seems unfair that the fairer sex should be condemned to languish when we have such a learning capacity.”

“Languish?”

“Some subjects are deemed improper for young ladies to learn,” she said. “Like Greek and Latin. Like the law and medicine, and it seems senseless to me.”

“What a novel idea,” Matthew said, sounding amused. “You are a very modern woman, hm?”

The door opened, and the butler entered. “Apologies for my interruption. There was a late letter for Your Grace.”

Matthew tensed. He took the letter, his face going at once very pale. Tabitha watched as he silently read the correspondence. A cloud seemed to come over him, and he stood abruptly. “Excuse me, Tabitha. I must tend to this matter without delay.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing that you need to worry over,” he said, his voice clipped.

But as he left, Tabitha felt a whisper of doubt. Her instincts told her something was very wrong.