The bath had revived her. She chatted with him weakly but cheerfully through a simple dinner of salad greens, tomato slices and pickled eggs. He had surprised her by asking if she'd ever seen Blenheim? “The palace?” she'd said. “No, I've never had the pleasure.”
“Well, by this time a day or two from now, you will then.” He'd rather risk meeting someone he knew while journeying with her than confront Lady Catherine or hold his brother Marcus at bay. Alexandra seemed excited about the prospect of getting away from Hanwell Farm for a while. Together they washed and dried the few supper dishes. They were both too tired from the day to have an after dinner coffee or tea. She went to her room early and not long after, she heard his bedroom door shut. She'd have packing to do in the morning. Sleep did not evade her. In her dreams she was lost in a place where every tree was the same-- but in the end, her husband came to her rescue with a warm and kind smile on his face and eyes that shimmered with a deep and abiding love.
Chapter 11. A Love More Than the Glory of Blenheim
The next morning while William was tending to the matters pertaining to the operation of the farm in their absence and the rental of a stylish barouche and the hiring of a driver for their journey, Alexandra was busy packing for both of them. She had decided to pack a week's worth of garments into one of her trunks in case the journey lasted more than a few days and it proved later, she was glad she had done so.
She wanted to bring her sewing box and the embroidery project she'd been working on. She had been making a set of matching pillowcases with a great deal of embroidered floral detail on the border of the linen using pastel threads. She easily located a few extra hoops she'd brought from the manse, reminding her of many evenings she'd embroidered using them while seated across from her father. She also brought a wedding sampler she had started, in case she became bored with the pillowcase project. The wedding sampler gave her a feeling of safety and permanence in her otherwise temporary and unpredictable situation.
These things all fit nicely in the trunk under her gowns and her husband's clean trousers and shirts. A corner of the trunk contained her slippers, walking shoes, a few hat boxes and neatly folded shawls. She packed her husband's coat and her cloak in case of rain. It felt odd to be packing her husband's items with her own but made her feel happy somehow to assume this role in their new marriage.
Then she set about looking for a few books. She packed her Bible and a book of poems and found herself looking for the book she'd been reading about ancient Greece. Where had she left it? Then she went downstairs into the parlor to retrieve it. She remembered it having been on the writing desk. Yes, it was right there where she'd left it. When she picked it up, two documents which looked to be letters written by her husband caught her eye. These had been placed directly under the book beneath a sheet of blotting paper. She could not help but examine the letters, wondering who her husband might be writing to. Perhaps she would find some new details about her husband that might satiate her deep need and curiosity to know him better. He revealed so little about his family.
The first was a brief letter addressed, (The) Lady Catherine Duncan:
Dear Lady Catherine,
I am writing to inform you that there has been some misunderstanding. I am not, nor have ever been betrothed to you, though it was the wish of my guardians. That is all. I regret that my letter may seem abrupt or harsh, but a betrothal between us can never be.
W. H.
This both alarmed and peaked her curiosity and so she held the letter out before her to read it again. It was a great shock to her as she wondered if her husband had ever cared for this Lady Catherine. Then she turned her attention to examine the second letter. This letter appeared to be addressed to his brother:
Marcus,
Please cancel your journey. I am both safe and happy, and will be in further correspondence with you soon. Return to Lady Jenna, who must be concerned and disturbed in your absence. I desire time and discretion but happily, return the affections of another woman. Your presence will bring complications and quite possibly, disastrous consequences; at the very least, disruptive and unpleasant. Details will soon follow, a fortnight or perhaps two, herewith. Be patient with the situation and respect my need for privacy. Please return Lady Catherine to her parents. If she persists with this chase, tell her only Ivy Clifton is entailed at this time. Perhaps she will then relent. I am of no great loss or consequence to her. Of critical importance, be sure to mention my friendship and connection with Earl Finley-- oh, and the eldest son of Squire Bromley.
W. H.
Most interesting indeed... as she didn't understand who these people were, she held a mystery in her hands. She knew Marcus was the name of her husband's brother. That was the only thing she was sure of. The absence in both letters of the mention of their marriage leapt to her attention, as well as his statement of affection toward, herself? She had feelings of both elation and dismay all at the same time. Her hands trembled and she wished she hadn't found the letters. She quickly returned the letters, and the book, and fled the room.
When she had shut her bedroom door she fell back against it and tried to regain her composure. Can it be that he truly returns my affection? “Can it be?” she whispered to herself out loud. Her heart fluttered so lightly at that moment she thought butterflies had taken flight. And then it was gone and as quickly as it her elation had come, a cloud of questions and despair descended over her thoughts, clouding her good judgment. She wanted to believe he cared for her and could barely allow herself to trust her own thoughts as they raced through her mind. She stood there with her back to the door and her eyes closed as if the tighter she squeezed her eyelids, the more she might understand all that she had read. Much of it made no sense to her.
Affection was not as strong a word as love... but at first, it sounded to her like a devotion of love, described in the way a man might tell it. Some men were not that adept at describing or sharing their true feelings. When she'd read the letter a second time, it sounded more like a matter of mere and commonplace fact, as if to say, I really like my new shoes.
“What had he meant exactly?” she wondered silently in her thoughts. Who was Lady Catherine Duncan? Who was Lady Jenna? She knew Marcus was his brother-- but why was he searching for him? Was he traveling with this Lady Catherine in search of William? Was William to inherit a larger estate? Ivy Clifton sounded like the name of a grand place and her curiosity was peaked. How did William know the Earl of Finley and this Squire's son? Were they business acquaintances? What did they have to do with anything?
Perhaps the farm was much larger than she had first imagined. She was beginning to suspect that her husband was not a mere farmer, as he downplayed himself to be....but more along the lines of being a gentleman landowner. Perhaps he or his brother were country Squires themselves. This would explain his good manners and breeding... and so many of his varied interests; his excellent education and speech. He seemed to have such a good knowledge of most any subject. His aunt and uncle may have been of noble birth and afforded him more than just a good education. He seemed so quiet though about his background and said so very little about his family. His childhood seemed somewhat of a painful subject to him and she could only hope that in time he would come to talk about it with her.
In the meantime, a thousand thoughts about this Lady Catherine flooded her mind. Was she beautiful? Had she been romantically attached to her William? Did he love this Lady? Was he dealing with Lady Catherine in a less than honorable way? She chided herself for having been so stupid in not asking him of any past romantic affairs. Would he have told her if she had? Why was this Lady “chasing” him across England, possibly with Marcus, believing herself to be the betrothed of her own husband? Could this threaten the validity of her own marriage and union to William? Was this the reason for their sudden journey to Blenheim? Or was he, truly, still trying to protect her in the event they chose to seek an annulment?
She did not like the way her husband
referred to her in the second letter as just another woman. What would his brother think of her when they finally met? In his attempt to protect her identity, was he putting her in more danger of being in a less than honorable situation than necessary? She sat down on the bed, her mind racing with questions that tumbled out of her thoughts while she waited for her William to return. She was more than intrigued.
It was becoming harder and harder to deny the fact they were transforming into a happily married couple. Their days and evenings seemed so peaceful and happy. It would be a relief when they had finally reached a decision to embrace their future together. She found herself falling hard and fast in love with William... and hoping that one day he could finally introduce her to his family. Would Lady Catherine try to stand in the way of their happiness?
The last line of the second letter seemed to bother her most. It seemed like such an odd statement to make. And the entail... why had he bothered to agree to share such personal information with this Lady Catherine? What did Lady Jenna have to do with this? She was a little confused... she had read both letters so quickly. Clearly the last line of the second letter was of some importance though she could not grasp what the significance was from any other part of either of the letters.
Based on her husband's reluctance to pursue any physical congress with her, she now wondered if there was a chance he was romantically tied to someone else, at least in his heart. While the letters gave the impression he appeared to be in an attempt to break the connection with this Lady Catherine, she could not be sure yet of his true feelings.
Clearly her husband wasn't ready to introduce her as his wife. He must have a great deal of doubt. The journey ahead of them was either to protect her reputation --or it was to protect his own heart from facing the love he might have for this Catherine. In any case, it certainly seemed a tangled mess. She soon decided she was better off trying not to figure it all out.
She realized once again that she still knew so little about William. It was best to continue to remain somewhat nonchalant about the relationship, to protect her own heart, until she could see whether things were going to work out between them. She had to at least protect her dignity... for she feared her heart had already suffered some damage. The longer he waited to make her his wife in more than name only, the more she doubted her own prowess as a woman and hope for their love to grow.
She found herself deeply saddened to think of William being in love with someone else. For some reason unknown to her, he had been unable to bring himself to marry this other person, who very well could be his true love. Was her husband leaving a trail of broken hearts across England? The fact this woman was being escorted by Marcus showed how deeply his brother cared about the betrothal, if in fact there had ever been one. Would Lady Catherine or his brother dispute the validity of their marriage? If so, their union was in more danger than ever before... and especially in view of the fact it had not been consummated.
All she could do was pray. She felt walls of protection going up in her heart but something else inside her caused her to whisper a desperate prayer. Dear God, if you want me to confront my husband with this, please show me. Please protect me from a broken heart. Who is my husband? I cannot tell how much farm land we are sitting on but it does seem vast. I have yet to find our borders. He does not share details like this with me and I am certain it would be wrong to ask such personal information, yet. He seems more of country squire than a small and relatively unknown farmer ... Please show me how I fit into his life. Thank you Lord for answering my prayer.
She finished packing their belongings and gathered her courage and wits as she did so. Into the trunk she added another pelisse, two parasols, two spencers, and an extra reticule with a few coins, just in case. Her nightgown and lace trimmed robe fit nicely beside her husband's nightshirt.
In the kitchen she tied on an apron and prepared a large picnic basket she'd found in the cellar with food for the journey. She placed three large corked jugs of cold cider and water into the willow basket. Then she added thick wedges of cheddar cheese and other strong flavors she knew her husband liked. She placed a container of oyster stew and another of cold peas beside two loaves of bread she'd baked earlier in the week, both carefully wrapped in cheesecloth. She added a selection of fresh apples and a stone crock of sliced peaches and pears to the now laden basket and dragged it closer to the door where William could load it into the barouche. She only had to tie on her bonnet now and contemplate the journey ahead to Woodstock while she waited patiently for her husband to return.
Before long he had returned and introduced her as his wife to the driver. She was shocked. Was this a sign that he was beginning to consider their union a success? The driver, a lanky and quiet fellow, politely nodded to her and busied himself with loading and securing the trunk. William carefully handed her up into the seat where they were comfortable underneath the shade of the half canopy.
They would travel south toward Banbury and enjoy the beautiful and picturesque scenes along the way. William handed two letters to little Benjamin. She watched little Ben in his bare feet and well-worn brown breeches tuck them inside his shirt pocket carefully with a nod to her husband. She looked away quickly, not ready to approach her husband about the matters contained inside the letters, but not before he had caught her looking intently at the letters now in Benjamin's care. He chose not to discuss it and she, with a tilt of her chin, pretended not to care.
The drive was just the thing they needed most at that moment. She had been tired of being holed up in the house and was anxious in some strange way, despite her questions about her husband, to be out and about, proudly his arm. Perhaps this journey also meant that a greater part of him had begun to accept her as his wife on a more permanent basis. If he would rather face the public at large than his own brother or Lady Catherine, perhaps he was gearing up to introduce her to the rest of his world soon after their journey, whatever the rest of his world contained. So long as it included her, she knew she would survive, indeed be happy. She had taken their vows seriously and meant to keep them. Other than her husband being quiet, she hadn't found many things she didn't like about him.
Patches of honey colored cottages gleamed in the distance as they rolled quickly down dirt roads and country lanes. They passed meadows and farmland that stretched on for miles. Wooded areas seemed to creep up and then slink back into the skyline. Gladiolas, daisies and bluebells painted the yards of little cottages and farm houses here and there. She was elated to be traveling and experience the world around them and it did much to lift her mood. She missed the long walks she used to take into the little village near her father's manse and being able to call out a friendly greeting to those in her parish. She'd known everyone in the village back home by name and was well liked and respected. She especially missed her dear friend Betsy. Now that her parents were gone, she realized that those were her only friends in life, other than William. More than once they crossed over a sturdy cobblestone bridge or a rickety wooden one to cross over a brook or a river.
After a time, her husband was explaining that if the owners were not in residence at Blenheim (the Duke of Marlborough) he would perhaps see if a tour might be arranged. She had heard much about the beautiful palace but she let her husband regale her with the telling of historical facts. As they rolled along in style alongside endless meadows he recounted to her how Queen Anne had built the palace for John Churchill, the first Duke of Marlborough between 1705 and 1724-- after his military victory at the Battle of Blenheim. She was impressed how he remembered these dates.
He also explained to her that the palace was baroque in style and one of the most beautiful ever built. He lamented that he could not tell her yet that his family had been invited as guests there on more than one occasion. On one of the stops to water the horses, he'd asked a waiter if he knew the Duke to be in residence at Blenheim. The waiter said he had heard the Duke had removed to Brighton. This was good news indeed. He hoped they would not be r
ecognized, but he was almost at the point that if he was recognized, he wouldn't really mind. He was weary of holding the truth back from his bride and almost hoped someone would catch him with her on his arm and he'd be forced to spill the truth about his identity to her once and for all.
She was rapt with attention to every word he spoke but in the back of her mind, still very concerned about the matter concerning Catherine and Marcus. Were they perhaps at the cottage this very moment, searching through her belongings, looking for them, harassing Benjamin for any knowledge of their whereabouts? Would little Ben be able to take care of himself? They'd given him keys to the cellar for any food he might need. He was such a young boy to be left to his own devices for an indefinite period of time. She hoped they could return to his side as soon as possible and tried to listen to what her husband was saying about Blenheim.
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