“It was a brilliant dinner party, Ruby. You should be proud.”
“Then you enjoyed yourself?”
He’d never noticed how warm her voice was, with a rich timber that belied the stern expressions so often on her face.
“Immensely. Though it was not a cure-all, it did help. I am grateful you suggested it,” he replied.
“You were not disappointed?”
The words were simple, but her tone said more. In it, Conrad heard her shoulders rounding as they too often did, her face turning to the floor as though unable to face her shame. It was such a contradiction to the Ruby so often on display; her expression looked so disapproving and rigid, as though the strongest blow could not move her, but when she spoke thusly, it was like a child awaiting a slap.
Before he could think how to answer her, she continued, “You looked so unhappy whenever the party was brought up. I had thought…”
Her words drifted into silence, and there was no point in finishing the sentence, for they both knew her meaning.
Pride was such a fickle thing—at times, pushing him to greater heights and behavior, and at others, causing him to shrink away from that which he knew he ought to do. It was not that he abhorred admitting fault; Conrad did not delight in it, but he didn’t think he was such a prideful fool as to refuse to acknowledge that he, like all people, was flawed and imperfect. But knowing something must be done did not make it any easier.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
There was a long silence, and Conrad wondered if sleep had claimed his wife once more, and he did not relish the thought of having to repeat himself in the brightness of day.
“For what?” came the quiet reply.
Conrad stifled a groan. That was quite the query, and one with a multitude of answers. There were quite a few wrongs he could admit to, but he focused on the most pressing one.
“That I was not more supportive of the dinner party,” he said. “I thought I hid my feelings, but clearly, you knew my heart. I should have trusted you. It did help, as you said it would. My standing among the masters is stronger than before, and there were definite steps taken to cement relations between the mills.”
Her side of the bed shuddered, and Conrad glanced towards her, though he only made out a few vague shapes.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
There was a long pause before she replied. “I should have laid out another blanket.”
Retrieving one would be a simple solution, but the air was biting, and the bed was just warm enough to make that prospect daunting. Conrad had no interest in doing so and chose the other option. With a turn, he shifted in bed until he was flush to her.
“Conrad?”
Ruby gave a little start, but she voiced no other protest when he prompted her to lift her head and tucked his arm under it. The pair slid closer together, her cheek resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her back. But Ruby remained rigid at his side.
Plenty of mornings found them wrapped around each other, but this was not some accident of sleep.
“We’re both chilly, and this will help,” he said. “Unless you’d rather go in search of more blankets?”
The only answer he received was Ruby’s muscles softening as she relaxed into his hold. As this would share their natural warmth and avoid the constant tugging back and forth of the blankets throughout the night, the arrangement was practical.
And surprisingly comfortable.
*
Why was it so difficult to breathe? Her lungs had worked properly only moments ago, but curled into her husband’s side, Ruby felt as though her body had petrified. Or perhaps it was just her heart.
Conrad was warm. Somehow strong and soft at the same time. Just like the soul inside the body.
Ruby wished she could get on firmer footing with him. There were times when he was unyielding and demanding, but at times like these, he was so tender. Understanding. Quick to admit fault and ask forgiveness.
She understood Papa and her sisters’ husbands. There were unspoken and unshakable rules of conduct they followed and expected of her. She knew her place and did not question it. How was one to behave around a man like Conrad?
Pondering that question made her heart shrink. There were so many mistakes she had made and would yet make, but in the same instant, memories of the evening made her chest expand. A jolt of energy sped through her veins, chasing away any exhaustion. Yes, there was pleasure to be drawn from any success, but there was more to her elation. It was knowing that her offerings, however meager they were, had been of use to Conrad and his family.
“Thank you,” she whispered into the darkness. But Conrad’s deep, even breaths were the only answer in return.
Chapter 14
Shifting her grip on the basket, Ruby shut the office door behind her. The sun was bright above, though the mill courtyard was too tall for the light to find its way inside. It was one of those deceptive afternoons when the brightness of the sky and strength of the sun made one think that it was warm, but Ruby pulled her shawl tighter around her. She ought to have taken a proper jacket, but the walk from the house to the office was short enough that it had seemed unnecessary.
“Let me take that, ma’am,” said Tommy, hurrying from across the courtyard.
“It’s empty and hardly a burden,” said Ruby as the lad reached for the basket, but Tommy would not be deterred.
“No matter,” he said, tucking it on his arm. “Mr. Conrad gave me special instructions to help you whenever you’re about.”
Having the lad play escort had become as much a part of Ruby and Conrad’s luncheon habit as the food and conversation, so it was not surprising to find him waiting on the doorstep every afternoon. But his insistence on escorting her home was.
Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Conrad through the window. He gave her a little smile and a nod of the head, and Ruby's thoughts seized as surely as her heartbeat. It was a tiny thing—insignificant in most respects—but it struck her like a blacksmith’s hammer. It was the sort of gesture she’d seen the Ashbrooks perform for one another countless times. Thoughtful yet without design, as though caring for the other was an extension of themselves. As natural as breathing.
As a child, she’d had a nursemaid who had told her fantastical tales of magic creatures who shifted and changed on a whim. Mercurial and elusive, they were impossible to catch. Ruby had adored all the many adventures the nursemaid unfolded, though Mama had thought them terribly wicked stories that filled her daughters’ heads with nonsense. Ruby could not remember the names of the creatures, but her marriage reminded her very much of them. Ever-changing. Shifting. Moving. It was difficult for her to keep her wits about her when the rules changed so constantly.
It was startling and thrilling at once. The shadows in her heart still held sway, whispering to her that this hope was not to be trusted, but Ruby felt as though a touch of that winter sun was creeping into those darkened corners.
It was at that moment that the babe inside her made itself known, its movements growing stronger with each day, and Ruby placed a hand on the swell that had grown far more pronounced in the past few weeks. No one commented about it as yet, but it was from tact and not ignorance.
“Ma’am?” prodded Tommy, and Ruby nodded, coming up to his side as they walked to Newland Place.
“How is your mother? And is Sarah’s cough better?” she asked. Though Ruby truly did wish to know the answers to those questions, she struggled to keep her thoughts on Tommy.
These moments of joy aside, would Conrad be happy if her child bore a striking resemblance to Lucas? Would she? If the babe had Lucas’s cold eyes? His temperament?
There was no point in lying to herself. Conrad was an endearing man. Admirable. And the more she came to know him, the more those feelings grew. But what if he turned out to be as wicked as his brother? Ruby shook aside that thought, for though Conrad was still a mystery to her, she could not imagine him behaving
as Lucas did. But then, she’d never suspected Lucas, either.
Leading the way, Tommy escorted her home, her thoughts roiling with unanswerable questions. Then the lad took his leave, and she found herself alone in the parlor.
A quiver took hold of her stomach, the luncheon now souring. Her throat tingled, the back of it clenching in that all-too-familiar feeling. Ruby had experienced such sickness often enough to know that it would not require any immediate assistance, but she took a seat on the sofa. Though most women found that such illness faded as the weeks passed, Ruby could get no relief from it, and she wondered if it was yet another punishment thrust upon her. It was a fitting reminder of the babe conceived in a lie and sired by a man with no honor. It was a fool’s errand to find any happiness in it.
A knock broke through her thoughts, and Ruby was uncertain how long it had been sounding before she answered it. With a bob, Fanny entered, carrying a letter.
“Some post has arrived for you, ma’am,” the maid said, offering it up.
Her mother’s handwriting stared up at her from the thick envelope, and Ruby flipped it over, breaking the seal. Fanny gave another bob in farewell, and Ruby dismissed her with a nod, her eyes glued to the missive. A piece of home. Her hands nearly shook as she unfolded the paper, her gaze darting across the words as though she might absorb their entire meaning in a heartbeat.
Dear Mrs. Ashbrook,
It pains me to write to you in such a blunt fashion, but it is clear you do not or will not understand. We do not welcome contact from you. Desist with these letters to us and your sisters; they have been made aware of your situation, and none of us welcome correspondence with a harlot.
It breaks my heart that such a rift has formed between us, but as much as I have loved you, I will not taint myself or my family with your loose morals. You chose to share a bed with a man who was not your husband, and now, you must bear the consequences of your wickedness. We ensured you were provided with a husband, and we have no further obligation towards you.
I can only hope that you will be a more faithful and obedient wife and mother to him than you were a daughter to us.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Jerome Jeffries
P.S. I have enclosed your latest missive. I cannot return the others as they were immediately tossed into the fire.
Ruby stared at the writing on the page. The letters formed words that were clear, comprehensible English, but their meaning refused to penetrate her foggy thoughts. Certainly, she must have read them wrong. But they remained the same, even after a second and third reading.
Setting the letter on her lap, Ruby stared at the wall. Her body felt disjointed. Disconnected. Separate from herself. It sat there limp and unmoving like a bag of potatoes someone had propped in her place. Devoid of thought or feeling. Simply existing.
***
Mary patted her hair, ensuring that her mane was not an unruly mess after removing her bonnet. It was a shame that short styles were no longer fashionable. She’d maintained shorn locks for several years when she first married, and though Mary thought her present style more becoming, she missed the ease with which she could take on and off a bonnet and ready herself in the morning.
A quick glance at the mirror in the corner of the entry assured her that naught was out of place, so Mary left her things with the maid and went in search of Ruby. Though she had agonized over what to say, Mary still had no thought as to how to broach the subject that needed broaching without causing more harm. Perhaps it was best to ignore the misstep she’d made the previous night and move ahead with more tender attention to Ruby’s feelings.
At the very least, Ruby needed to know that the dinner party was a triumph. Though Mary had told her such several times, between the anxiety of hosting the dinner and the resultant relief that followed when the last guest had left, Ruby had been worn to the bone. She deserved to hear the praise again when well-rested and clearheaded.
“Good afternoon…” Mary stepped through the parlor door and took two steps into the room, but her salutation died away at the sight of her daughter-in-law.
Though the lady sat upright, there was a deflated quality to her posture that made her look like a rag doll. Ruby’s gaze was hollow, staring sightlessly into the distance. Mary sat beside her, but the lady did not notice.
“Ruby?” Mary reached for her hand and saw a letter lying on her lap. It wasn’t until Mary said her name a second time that Ruby stirred herself.
She blinked rapidly. “I apologize. I did not hear you come in.”
“Is that news from home? Is something the matter?” asked Mary, nodding at the letter.
“I—” Ruby paused, staring at the paper in her lap. “It—” she began again, but the word broke, and Ruby’s hands flew to her mouth as though to hold in the gasping, wrenching sob. Her muscles tightened, straining to restrain the emotions fighting to break free.
“What is the matter?” Mary reached for Ruby but paused. Though their relationship had grown to a level where she felt comfortable remaining in such close proximity, there was an intimacy that came from holding someone. Ruby was such a formal creature that Mary didn’t know if she would welcome the contact or retreat further into herself.
Try as she might to stem them, tears filled Ruby’s eyes, and she curled inwards, bringing her arms around her middle like a child trying to soothe herself when no one else would. Mary needed no further prompting, and she wrapped her arm around Ruby’s shoulder, pulling the darling close. At her touch, all composure was lost, and Ruby let out a jagged sob, her breaths coming in broken, watery gulps.
With her free hand, Mary snatched up the letter before it fell to the ground. She hoped Ruby would forgive the invasion, but the lady was in no fit state to talk, and Mary needed to know what news had caused such pain. What she found was so much worse than expected.
Mary’s own eyes filled with tears, and she tossed the offending letter aside, turning to embrace Ruby fully. In the state she was in, Ruby gave no protest as Mary wrapped her arms around her, holding the dear lady to her shoulder as she had her own children when their pains and sorrows were too great to bear alone.
There were no words to offer. Mary knew all too well that at such a time, one could only offer silent comfort. Ruby shook and shuddered, her breaths heaving with each bout of tears, and Mary rocked her. Pain twisted Mary’s heart, her own tears joining with Ruby’s, and the pair mourned together.
Ruby’s tears echoed ones Mary had shed many years ago, and she felt that pain anew. Mary’s heart had undergone a significant transformation since those wounds were first inflicted, so they could not cause the same harm as before, but Ruby was still so very young and unsure of herself, and Mary longed to lend her strength. Holding her close, she prayed for the right words, the proper sentiments, anything and everything she might do to help.
It was many long minutes before Ruby calmed enough for words, though she did not release her hold on her mother-in-law, and Mary returned it with equal measure.
“You are not a harlot,” she murmured, rubbing a hand up and down Ruby’s back. “You are not wicked. You are not tainted.”
Putting all her conviction into those words, Mary repeated them again and again as Ruby took shuddering breaths. For all that words had caused Ruby’s pain, Mary knew words would not heal her—but they needed to be said all the same. Poisonous words hold a unique power; they strike again and again each time they are recalled, maiming as much the second, third, or hundredth time as they did the first, and Mary would not allow Mrs. Jeffries’ to go unchallenged.
“You are precious, and your mother is a fool if she does not see that. I am proud to have you as my daughter,” she said, speaking the words a young Mary had once needed to hear.
Ruby straightened, wiping at her eyes. Though the woman had thirty years to her name, she looked so very young as she met Mary’s gaze with wide, pleading eyes. “Truly?”
Mary’s lip trembled, and she took in a breath to loosen the
tightness in her chest so she could speak clearly. “My parents were unhappy about my engagement to Ambrose, and they cut all ties with me despite my efforts to mend things. They never met my children, and even on their respective deathbeds, they had no desire to acknowledge me or my family.”
Mary glanced down to the crumpled letter on the floor and thought of all the unanswered letters she’d written. But she turned her attention back to Ruby, holding her gaze with all the strength of spirit she’d developed in the ensuing years. “But the Ashbrooks took me in as one of their own. Their family became my family, and we can be that for you if you will have us.”
Ruby’s face crumpled, her gaze falling to her lap, but not before Mary saw a flash of hope shining in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and tremulous. “But I have caused so much trouble for you.”
“Trouble?” Mary parroted, gaping at that foolish statement. “None of the trouble we’ve faced is your doing, Ruby.”
A thought leapt into her mind, startling her with its clarity and truth, making her heart wrench in her chest and shy away from it, even as Mary knew she could not deny it—no matter how she may wish to. Both she and Ruby needed a bit of honesty.
“This is Lucas’s doing, Ruby.” Mary’s expression pinched and tightened as she spoke the words. “It was he who set this in motion and left us to shoulder the consequences. But know this: regardless of how you came to be an Ashbrook, I do not regret the addition of you and the baby to our family.”
Reaching over, Mary took Ruby’s hand in hers. “I would not have chosen for you and Conrad to be forced into this marriage, but the more I come to know you, the more I feel it will be a blessing to you both. You are a treasure, Ruby, and I am pleased that my son has such a stalwart and kind-hearted wife. I would be honored if you would think of me as your mother.”
The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2) Page 13