Something Old

by Rebecca Connolly

  Trying her best to remember the question, Lily cleared her throat. “Thomas and I came to Cornwall to get out of London and try to find joy in our marriage. To grow closer. We’ve been apart for so long, despite living under the same roof.”

  “Ah,” Julia said, reaching for a bit of cake. “So you’ve grown accustomed to no attention, and now find yourself at the mercy of an excess of it.”

  “Yes, I suppose.” Lily bit her lip gently, her brow furrowing in thought. “I don’t dislike it, not in the least.”

  “That’s because ee be a woman with red blood in ee,” Emblyn pointed out with a snort. “Bit of a touch, and we go barking mad.”

  Julia nodded, considering that. “That is a very valid point. In our society, with our obsession of never touching unless wearing gloves regardless of the situation, the feeling of skin-on-skin is rather igniting, is it not?”

  “Why does that sound vulgar?” Lily asked as her face burned.

  “Because we’ve been trained to always wear gloves,” Julia insisted. “It is the very point. Spend an evening holding your husband’s hand wearing gloves, then take them off and hold it without. See what takes you over then, my dear, and you’ll understand.”

  Lily stared at her friend in almost horror, yet a tickle of anticipation began to claw at her stomach, and she knew that the moment the opportunity presented itself, she would do exactly as her friend had suggested.

  “I didn’t know,” Lily murmured, her resistance against confiding in her completely fading. “I didn’t know that a marriage or a relationship could be like this. I knew it could be more than what we’d had, which was a void of sorts. The occasional dinner conversation and nothing more. I didn’t know it could be addicting to be in his company. That I would smile simply thinking of his smile. That my heart would leap in remembering his kiss. I feel as though I might go mad with missing him from the moment we part at night until I see him in the morning.”

  “Then ee’d best stop partin’ afore bed,” Emblyn remarked with a quirk of her brow, lifting her teacup as politely as any fine woman might have.

  Lily chose to ignore the comment, though she was sure her cheeks would never again resume a calm shade. “But more than that, I feel afraid.”

  “Afraid?” Julia cried, seeming startled by the very mention of the emotion, given the context of their conversation. “Of what, Lily? Granger clearly adores you, what could there possibly be to fear in that?”

  How could she explain the heart of her concerns when neither of these women had known her from the beginning? Who had not seen the previous nature of her marriage, the behavior of her husband, and the behavior of herself? How could she explain to women who did not have her previous way of life to compare to the heady bliss she now had?

  To them, Thomas would seem the epitome of all husbands, a man heartily enjoying his marriage of affection and doting upon his wife. They didn’t know how distant he had been. How private and silent. How unwilling to interact, and unencouraging in behavior. They didn’t know how many social evenings Lily had endured with him where she had to feign indifference. Where she had sadly watched him leave her side, wishing, just once, he would be pleased to be with her. How she’d ached to be mistaken for a happy couple on such an occasion.

  Could she disillusion them in such a way by expressing her fears? What if the man Thomas had been prior to Cornwall was more fitting with his natural temperament than this man he was now?

  “What if it doesn’t last?” she finally asked, feeling it was the best manner in which she could express her concerns without going into great detail. “What if this heady delirium I find myself in fades and all I have are memories of it?” Her throat began to clog with emotion, and her eyes began to well with unexpected tears.

  Julia set her tea aside and reached out a hand to her, which Lily took, gripping for a moment before she could bring herself to meet her eyes. When she did, Julia smiled gently. “I have been married to John for three years now. Ours was a marriage of love and affection. There are a few things I have learned that I would like to share with you. I am no expert, but I think I can help. Will you let me?”

  “Of course,” Lily said at once. “I’ll take any help I can get.”

  Julia nodded once. “First of all, the delirium will undoubtedly fade. It always does.”

  “What?” Lily tried to pull her hand away in distress, but Julia held fast.

  “Listen,” Julia insisted in a firm, no-nonsense voice. “Not all of this will be easy to hear, which is why I asked if you would let me share. I am your friend, and I would not discourage you intentionally.”

  That, at least, was true, and Lily could have said that herself if she had been calm enough to truly listen rather than only hear.

  “I apologize,” Lily murmured. “Truly. Please, tell me.”

  Her apology made Julia smile, and she rubbed her hand soothingly. “As I said, the delirium does fade. Not the emotion behind the delirium, not the love in your heart or his, but the madness that comes with fully embracing that love will fade. It’s only natural that it does so, given the adjustment we make to feeling such things regularly. What becomes normal is no longer something that steals our breath.”

  When it was put that way, Lily supposed that it did make sense. After all, the longer she was married to Thomas, the less it became a point of excitement. Of course, she was happy to be married to him, but it did not give her the same thrill as it did in the earliest days.

  So the breathless rush of recent days would settle within her? That was both comforting and disconcerting. If it was no longer exciting to have her husband kiss her in the manner he did, would it become a boring staple of their life instead?

  “Secondly,” Julia went on, somehow appearing to know the sort of turmoil within Lily, as she winked a little, “there is a depth of emotion, yet unfamiliar to you, that will grow into something precious. Perhaps less demonstrative but no less moving. A connection to your husband that you never imagined possible, and one that you will wonder how you lived without.”

  That sounded rather promising, and as she thought about it, looked back on the marriage she had already experienced, she could say that the seeds of such a connection, such depth of emotion, had been planted. She could anticipate her husband’s moods based on the line of his jaw alone, and they’d started to begin wordless conversations across rooms that she hoped would continue through time.

  What more could they hope to discover about one another and their relationship if they let themselves continue to love each other?

  “Thirdly,” Julia continued, heaving a sigh, “he will once again begin to irk you in one way or another dozen. Don’t be alarmed, it is a sign of comfort in your situation and will not end the marriage. Though I suppose it could, if everything he does irks you, and you constantly natter on about it without offering a single word of encouragement or praise. That is an alarming prospect. I had better check with John and be sure I haven’t grown too fussy with him.”

  “Julia,” Emblyn broke in, no doubt catching sight of Lily’s aghast face. “Ee be making her more afeared.”

  Julia shook herself and looked at Lily, forcing a quick, bright grin. “Not to worry, my dear, I am only speculating. I cannot see you as a nag of a woman nor your husband as particularly fussy about your commentary.”

  Lily wasn’t certain that was at all comforting, but she appreciated the effort all the same.

  “And finally,” Julia told her, turning a little serious, “it will still be a maddening amount of fun to flirt with your husband.”

  Lily blinked once. “What?”

  Julia nodded in encouragement, her eyes dancing. “More so, even, than in courtship, because there are no limits upon time or behavior. Let me assure you, Lily, that it is far more rewarding to flirt now than it ever was before.”

  Emblyn coughed a laugh, sipping her tea deeply.

  The embarrassed heat in Lily’s cheeks from before faded, and she searched Julia’s brig
ht eyes, waiting for her friend to tell her she was teasing, that it was not truly so, and that there was something else she’d intended to say.

  But Julia did not tell her that, and there was only truth in her eyes, even if it was an amused truth.

  With a slight smile, Lily found herself laughing. “I thought you were going to tell me something terribly profound. Perhaps how I would begin to think more about my husband than I did about myself.”

  Julia shrugged, laughing herself. “That might be so, but I’ve only been married three years, so I cannot say for certain. If you wish only for serious platitudes, you’d best go ask Mrs. Tremellion, who has been married for thirty-five years and had six children. I am still enjoying the newness of marriage three years in and flirting shamelessly with my husband across dining tables.”

  “And flowers fade on flirts, Mrs. Roskelley,” Emblyn told her with a sniff of playful disapproval. “So ee’d best find other uses fer your clacker than fillin’ Lily’s ’ead with piffle.”

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Moyle,” Julia retorted pointedly, giving Emblyn a dark look. “I have only ever flirted with my husband, unless you wish to consider the pitiful flirtations of a ten-year-old as true flirting, in which case, I also flirted with Gage Trembath.”

  Emblyn released another snort of laughter, which Lily was learning was simply part of her unfettered laugh. It was delightful, and real, and infectious as well. A laugh like that would never suit high Society, but it perfectly suited Emblyn as she was. “Should Gage ever marry, ee mus’ explain tha’ to ’is wife.”

  Julia rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. “Should he marry indeed. I don’t know what he intends with this ball on Friday. He has no one to play hostess and is shamelessly comfortable with that. Why host a ball when every matchmaking matron will be out for blood, I can’t possibly imagine.” She glanced at Emblyn curiously. “Will you come, Emblyn?”

  “Oh, ’tis not a place for me,” she protested without a moment’s hesitation. “Were it only Gage and our friends, I would come, but with the local gentry and all high Society… It’s not fitty, I fear.”

  “Please come,” Lily pleaded, turning to her. “Please.”

  Emblyn shook her head. “I’ll not shame Gage by bringing gossip to Helwithin. I’ll have to imagine ee all prinked up for the night.”

  “Then you must help me choose my gown,” Lily insisted firmly. “Both of you must. I want to look my very best and be a distraction to my husband by appearing so.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Helwithin was a fine edifice, a noble structure that would neither intimidate nor underwhelm any guests arriving to her. A pristine and well-kept construction, neatly manicured, and surprisingly new in appearance for a family as established as the Trembaths were. The circle drive leading to the entrance of the house was lined with carriages, gentlemen and ladies emerging from them in finery that would not be out of place in London in the least.

  Thomas managed to notice all that while also acknowledging that Helwithin, the estate, was nothing compared to the perfect hell roaring on within him.

  Lily was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Captivating, brilliant, perfectly adorned, and full of a light he had never seen in her before. Her lustrous hair had never been so dark, so rich, so tempting while trussed and pinned, white pearls peeking through various curls while yellow ribbons and flowers seemed to dance through the tresses.

  Her gown was immaculate and incomparable, a golden-yellow silk with some gauzy overlay with similar yellow ribbon bands lining the bottom, along with delicate, embroidered yellow roses. A band of wide, matching ribbon was tied around her, emphasizing all the perfection in her figure. The bodice of the exquisite garment was a gentle collection of ribbons and folds that resembled the distracting shape of a bow, while her neckline was lined with corded details and more rosettes. The sleeves were short, yet held a touch of volume that made him wonder how in the world they remained on her slender shoulders with nothing holding them there. About her throat was a small, single strand of pearls that drew his gaze more than was polite.

  She was a vision, and he had felt himself grow lightheaded for lack of taking in a proper breath.

  He’d led her into the house with barely a word, fearful she would feel the trembling in his hand as he did so and certain he would not find another lady to dance with all evening. It wasn’t quite the thing to dance with one’s spouse, but he’d be damned if he’d avoid that on this night. He’d make a point of discussing it with Trembath, being their host, but he’d dance with Lily in a parlor of Helwithin if it were the only option open to him.

  He’d pay a fortune for it to be a waltz, but even a jig would do. Anything to move with her and have an excuse to hold her hand with energy. Whatever would give him opportunity to hold her closer than he could having simple conversation in others’ company.

  Did Helwithin have gardens to equal that of the Roskelleys’ home? He and his wife had a marvelous history with gardens, and he’d be happy to add to the collection.

  He shook his head now, determined to keep a civil mind in his head and a gentlemanly behavior in his hands. He wasn’t sure he would have the restraint required of his tongue, so it would be better for all if he kept his mouth shut altogether. Yet he needed his wife to know that his silence was not that of anger, of reserve, or of disapproval. It was a silence of self-preservation.

  He hadn’t the words to compliment her much when she’d come down in her finery, though he had managed to smile, and apparently that had been enough as she had returned it with a glorious grin of her own.

  What could he say that would be enough?

  He had to say it now, or it might go unsaid, and his evening of silence could be entirely misconstrued for the man he had once been.

  “Darling,” he murmured, leaning close as they moved farther into the house, closer to the ballroom, “I’ve a secret to tell you.”

  She shivered, and small bumps raised on her exposed skin. “Yes?” she breathed, her breath visibly catching.

  He smiled at that and raised a finger to trace the edge of the sleeve at her upper arm lightly. “I’ll likely not manage a single word this evening. It will probably be all reserve and aloofness.”

  “Why?” she hissed, her eyes widening. “You ought to be congenial. Mr. Trembath is our friend.”

  “It is a simple fact,” he confessed quietly, looking about them, “that I develop a significant hindrance to my speech when in the presence of incomparable beauty, particularly when in a formal, public setting where I am not able to truly express myself. And as you are a glimpse of the glories of heaven tonight, I could not let you think I did not notice, appreciate, and admire such a vision. I simply lack the power to properly express it in a way that would not be maudlin or shocking.”

  A wash of rosiness cascaded into her cheeks and down her neck, the fan in her free hand not quite steady as it beat an almost even rhythm. “Thomas…”

  He leaned in and brushed his lips along the edge of her ear, not daring to be any more demonstrative than that in this setting. “I’ll be distracted all night. And you needed to know that.”

  Her lashes fluttered, and her hold on his hand turned clenching. “That was my plan,” she managed through gritted teeth, “but I was not supposed to be the one to catch fire by it.”

  Thomas exhaled slowly, trying to chuckle despite suddenly feeling incendiary himself. “You are not the only fire burning, my love. Not in the least.”

  What in the name of heaven, hell, and everything between, were they even doing here this evening? With both of them fit to burst, why were they venturing into company?

  Before he could find a decent enough answer, they entered the ballroom and witnessed the array of finery, riches, and majesty in both the room itself and the people within it. They would blend in well with their apparel and their practiced airs, but Thomas would have been happy enough to attend a dance among the villagers without any of the distinguishing adornments that
set apart this setting from that.

  “And so we burn,” Lily murmured, her fingers fidgeting in his hold.

  He nodded once, forcing his careful public expression into place, squeezing her hand gently as a reminder that he was here, even if his face did not show it.

  There was no announcement of arriving guests, so they were able to proceed into the room without disturbing the conversations at hand. Dancing had yet to begin, which was fortunate, as Lily was an elegant dancer, and watching her was one of the great pleasures for any pair of eyes. If he could not remain by her side the entire night and only partner her himself, at least he would be able to see her the whole of the night.

  He felt like a predator feeling and thinking this way, growing possessive over the attention and person of his wife. It felt unseemly, yet it was something he felt in the depths of his soul, a natural inclination that hardly seemed to require effort on his part. It simply was, and simply grew, and simply stayed.

  What could he do about it, then?

  “I see Julia,” Lily told him as they started around the edge of the room. “Will you take me there?”

  “I’d take you anywhere short of a billiard room, my dear,” he replied through barely moving lips. “Where is she?”

  Lily’s thumb brushed his hand gently. “Near the French doors. She looks lovely, that gown is the color of the most beautiful sea.”

  “I cannot see any beauty but you, so I shall take your word for it.”

  She glanced up at him. “I thought you were going to struggle with words, Thomas. You seem to be doing just fine for my ears.”

  He laughed once, giving her a sidelong look. “That is because you and I are managing to speak privately before we reach any companions or can be overheard.”

  “So if I were to remain by your side all evening…”

  “You would hear all sorts of things, and it would undoubtedly be a shorter evening than originally planned.”