by Eliza McGrey
I hesitated. Richard was my husband, of course, but there were many things about him I just didn’t know. I wondered how he might react to me asking questions about his personal things. Would he be angry? Would he answer them without thinking anything of it?
Well, there is only one way to find out…
“She also told me there were certain parts of this home that I am forbidden to enter,” I said, my heart skipping a beat as the words passed over my lips. “I thought that was a rather strange thing.”
Richard surprisingly rolled his eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Brian, you are meddling again, are you?” he said. He gestured to one of the settees for me to sit down. “I have asked Mrs. Brian to tell all of my guests to keep out of my personal quarters for several reasons, the first being that I am a man who rather treasures his privacy. I am always in the limelight at work, and I do not wish to feel the same when I return home.”
I sat down beside him and nodded. “That makes perfect sense to me.”
He nodded, adjusting the front of his coat. “Indeed. The second reason is that I often have information about other men in government that should never be seen by anyone else aside from those of us in the council. It is information about them, their families, and their lives that would likely be very dangerous if it were to be discovered. As such, I like to keep it all together and protected. They have entrusted me with it, after all.”
The knot in my chest was starting to loosen ever so slightly. “Of course,” I said. “That is deeply wise.”
“And the third reason is that I have often had guests in my home that I was unsure I could trust,” he said. “Not everyone I work with is an agreeable sort of fellow, and I do not wish to subject anyone in my household to someone who might be…well, dangerous in anyway.”
My heart fluttered at that. “Dangerous?”
“Now, there is nothing that you need to worry about, my dear,” he said with a gentle smile. “As I have you to look after now, there shall be far fewer guests of questionable histories that set foot in here.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Very well,” I said.
My dear…heavens, that seems awfully forward. I expected those sorts of endearments to come in the later months. Even still, it has put me more at ease.
He drained the last of his glass before rising to his feet. “Well, Lady Nash, what say you to a scrumptious dinner I’ve arranged to celebrate our wedding?”
He stretched out his hand to me, smiling down at me.
I looked up at him, returned the smile, and took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.
“That sounds wonderful,” I said.
And together we left the room, hand in hand, most of my fears assuaged.
Chapter 6
It was a morning in early March when I awoke to find the snow had melted. It was a great surprise after a long and harsh winter in the middle of London. While the season had been beautiful, it had taken its toll on London’s good citizens. Party after party was canceled, as no one wished to travel for any length of time in the bitter cold. Even Parliament was struggling to keep itself together as the cold pressed in from all sides.
The freezing had claimed more than one life, as well. Colonel Richard had taken on extra responsibilities in the wake of their deaths, and from my window in my room, I had seen more than one woman hurrying along through the streets veiled in black.
Christmas had come and gone. I hadn’t seen anyone in my family due to a terrible snowstorm that lasted for four days and nights, burying the city in more snow than anyone could remember. They had sent me a letter and a small package filled with some new books from my little sisters. They all seemed perfectly content, and their joy brought me some as well. One of said books rested on my bedside table, and I had been reading them late into the night the evening before.
My feet touched the icy floor, and swept around the side of the bed until I located my slippers. Sliding my feet inside, I stood and shuffled toward the window to get a better look. The tree in the front yard shed large droplets of water, shedding the heavy ice that had clung to its branches for so many weeks now. Water dripped from the room above, so quick and so frequent that it would have appeared to be raining if not for the glorious sun hanging in the bright blue sky.
Others seemed just as excited as I was to be seeing the first hints of spring. There was a man who had his face turned up to the sun, his top hat clamped beneath his arm as he strolled along, a wide smile on his face. A young woman walking with her young son carried her parasol as if it were the middle of summer. A carriage driver was waving to everyone that he passed by.
Well, at least something was going well around me.
I sighed as I turned away from the window and stared into the room.
Richard’s jacket was cast onto one of the chairs beside my vanity, tossed there before he had chosen to spend the night in my room.
In all the nights we’d spent together, I had yet to spend one in his room.
Certainly I’d seen it. He allowed me to be in there with him. It was much larger than mine, but more sparsely decorated. If we’d ever fallen into bed together there, he insisted we move to my room to sleep.
When I had awoken, he had already gone. As with most nights, he probably slipped out as soon as I’d fallen asleep.
Before I was married, I assumed that after a wife had done her duties and given herself to her husband, she would enjoy all of the benefits that went along with it; strong arms to sleep in, the warmth of his body against mine as I dreamt.
Richard was not that sort of man, it seemed. Certainly he was tender and romantic, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, but it all seemed to stop as soon as he had gotten her to the bedroom.
I knew he was seeking an heir. He’d been mentioning it more often in the last few weeks. He seemed surprised that I was not with child yet. I wondered if it was due to the cold, or perhaps the ever pervading loneliness that seemed to have its claws dug so deep into me that some nights, I could barely breathe.
I crossed over to my armoire and pulled open the doors, looking through the many dresses that I had acquired over the last few months. There was a pretty, slender green one that Richard had made for me and sent to the house when he was away on business. Another cream colored dress was a gift for being late so many nights in a row. Another red one was one that he liked so much when he was out shopping that he just purchased it and brought it home to me. He said it was purely coincidence that he was having some important members of the government coming for dinner that night.
I chose a yellow dress that I had brought with me from before I was married. Something about the other dresses never felt right. It was as if they were thoughtless, last minute gifts in order to appease me.
At first, I relished in his gifts. I thought they were his way of showing affection. He certainly didn’t show it in other ways. He was hardly ever home, and when he was, there were many nights where we would have dinner together and he would hide himself away in his study, at least until he wished to bed me.
But he would send jewelry, flowers, chocolates, and clothing with letters attached that were very sweet and poetic. I kept forcing myself to remember Barrow’s words about how Richard had likely gone through a great deal in the war, and likely had a hard time expressing himself.
I told myself this for weeks and weeks, until I couldn’t deny it to myself any longer. I hardly knew the man I was married to, and we had been married for almost six months.
I pulled open a drawer in the armoire and my eyes fell upon a small, blue gift box tied up in red ribbons. The excitement I used to feel was gone as I pulled it away, and opened the box to reveal a stunning broach made of emeralds and sapphires.
Without a second glance, I closed the drawer. I knew he would ask me about it later, but I wasn’t so sure I would even be seeing him that night.
It wasn’t just my relationship with Richard that left me lonely. As hard as I tried to develop a rapport with his staff, none of them
wished to reciprocate. Even Isabelle, who was with me for most of the day, every day, kept me at a distance. The hollowness within me did nothing but grow as the weeks passed.
Richard also never liked me leaving the house without him. He feared that someone might try to take advantage of a pretty woman like me if I were to wander the streets of the city alone. As much as he kept me at a distance, he seemed fiercely protective of my wellbeing. At first, I found it flattering. Now I just found it strangely smothering.
All of London stretched out before me outside, yet it was as if it was taunting me, beckoning me onward toward itself. I wished to explore it, to see the sites. But no matter how often I asked, Richard always refused. He did so kindly, with the promise to take me out for the weekend. With the weather being as unreliable as it had been, I had been disappointed weekend after weekend when he would send a letter ahead of himself apologizing for being stuck at the office and that we would certainly go see London the weekend after.
The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that my endless hours of privacy could be filled with pursuing my dream of being a writer.
The habit formed on its own. It started slowly, as a way to pass the time. Now it was a permanent part of my day. Every morning after breakfast, I retired to my study where I would spend some time reading before turning to my many stacks of parchment. I would revise work I had already written, and work on new stories. Most of them were fiction, but I started trying my hand at some journalistic pieces, where I would discuss the goings-on of my day. Richard gave me very little subject matter to work with, but I somewhat enjoyed speculating about the things that he did at work during the day.
I continued to use the same pen name, a one Lord Theodore, and would, every few weeks, release a new piece that I was happy enough with. It was easy enough to receive the post before Richard saw it. I wasn’t sure how he would feel about his wife sending off letters to newspapers to publish…as he had said many times over the months of their marriage, he was very private. It might have been detrimental if the newspapers were to have access to the spouse of a politician.
She was just about to call for Isabelle to help her get dressed when there was a knock on the door.
“Please, come in,” I said.
Isabelle stepped inside.
“Good morning, Isabelle,” I said with as kind of a smile as I could muster. “How are you doing this fine, bright morning.”
“I am well, my Lady,” she said, curtsying to me. “A message was delivered early this morning. I did not wish to wake you if you were still sleeping.”
“I’ve been awake for some time, admiring the beautiful spring weather,” I said, my smile widening. “Isn’t it wonderful, Isabelle? It seems winter is gone at last.”
“It is indeed, my Lady.”
“So, what is this message you’ve brought?” I asked as she helped me to step into my gown. “Is it from my husband?”
“No, my Lady. It is from a man named Lord Jonathon,” Isabelle said.
My heart skipped a beat, and I let out a small gasp.
“I’m sorry, my Lady, did I pull the corset too tight?” Isabelle asked.
“No,” I said with a laugh. “No, I’m just surprised. Lord Jonathon is a very dear friend of mine. Family, really. I was wondering when I might be hearing from him.”
“Yes, he sent along a message letting you know that he was in London and wished to stop by this morning to see you.”
The weight that I’d been carrying around with me seemed to lift. A familiar, friendly face. Someone who would want to talk to me, engage in meaningful conversation with me. At last, my dearest friend. It was better than anything I could have hoped for.
It was strange, though, that he was in London so soon after his own wedding. I would have assumed that he and his new bride would have been taking their honeymoon trip across the countryside, visiting with their families and friends.
I was impatient as Isabelle finished helping me into my gown. I told her to do something simple with my hair. I didn’t want to be late for Jonathon. It was going to be an immense relief to be able to see him. I was looking forward to it.
I hurried from the room as soon as I was ready, and carried myself to the staircase, Isabelle following close behind.
Mrs. Brian was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re late,” she said, her brow a stern line.
“Is Lord Jonathon here?” I asked, looking over her shoulder toward the foyer, wondering if I might catch a glimpse of him.
Her nostrils flared and she looked at me as if I were some impertinent child. “His carriage just pulled up. You should head to the parlor so you can greet him like the Lady of the house that you are.”
“Of course,” I said, ignoring her cool attitude. Nothing could make me upset now.
I turned and headed down the long hall toward the western side of the house, my heart fluttering excitedly in my chest. One of the servants bowed me into the room, and I moved in past him. Another servant was serving tea, while another stoked the fire in the hearth.
I turned on my heel to face the door, the smile growing on my face. I wondered how long he would stay, and if we could make plans for him to visit again. Perhaps he was bringing his new bride. There were so many questions that I was having a hard time standing still and poised.
The servants quietly left the room, leaving me standing there alone beside the settee.
It was only another moment or two that passed before the door opened once more, and Mrs. Brian stepped inside.
“Lady Nash, a one Lord Jonathon is here to see you,” she said, curtsying as she stepped out of the way.
My heart swelled as I looked past her…and then sank.
The man standing behind her was not Jonathon.
Chapter 7
The young man standing in the doorway was not my friend. In fact, I had never seen him before in my life.
He was tall and lean like Jonathon, but that was where the resemblances ended. He was incredibly handsome with coppery red hair that peeked out from underneath his hat. His eyes were round and bright blue as he looked intently at me.
What caught me off guard was his cheeky smile. Dimples appeared in his cheeks, and there was a warmth radiating off of him that I hadn’t felt in many, many months.
“Cousin!” he cried out, throwing his arms out wide. He hurried across the distance to me and threw his arms around my neck, pulling me in toward him.
He smelled of pine and spices, like cinnamon and cloves. And he held me more tightly than my husband had ever since we had been married.
“Go along with it,” he whispered in my ear.
I was frozen to the spot, unsure of how to even respond. This man that I’d never met had just embraced me as if he actually were my cousin.
He pulled away and smiled down at me. He was quite the actor indeed.
I brushed some hair from my face as I stared up at him, my eyes wide with shock. I tried to pull a disbelieving smile onto my face. It was so bizarre that I could have laughed and it would have been appropriate.
“My heavens…my dear cousin Jonathon,” I said, looking up at him. I shifted my gaze toward Mrs. Brian, who was watching me with the intensity of a falcon. “You didn’t tell me that it was my cousin who was coming to visit!”
Mrs. Brian bristled, like a bird whose feathers were rustled. “I was unaware that you were familiar with more than one Jonathon.”
The mysterious man turned to me and grabbed onto my hands, lifting them up toward his face. “Dearest cousin, how have you been? I am terribly sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding, and with the winter being as terrible as it was…”
“Oh, no, not at all,” I said. “You must be hungry after traveling for such a distance. Please, sit with me and have some tea. You must tell me all about dear cousin Sarah. Oh, and how was Aunt Rebecca feeling? Last I heard she had that terrible cold and was laid up in bed for almost a fortnight.”
“Oh, yes, indeed she was,�
�� the man said as we both took a seat on the settee together. “She’s much better, though. That letter you sent her cheered her right up.”
I could feel Mrs. Brian’s piercing gaze on the side of my face. Did she suspect anything? How could she? Unless I’d given away too much on my face when he first arrived…
“And did she try that herbal remedy like I suggested?” I asked. “My mother always gave that to me when I was feeling poorly. It’s always best with a little – ”
“Honey, of course,” the man said with a broad smile and a laugh.
I was stunned, looking at him with wide eyes. He had known precisely what I was about to say. It was remarkable.
“Yes, she sent me down into town to fetch some fresh honey. Our hives hadn’t produced much this fall, and as Sarah has been sick, she used the majority of it throughout the winter. Not to mention she just adores her honey cakes.”
I laughed. This story we were concocting was quite the farce, and yet he seemed to be going along with it as easily as I was.
“Oh, you didn’t by any chance bring any with you?” I asked, smiling up at him.
His smile became mischievous. “I wanted to. But I ate them all on my trip over here.”
Together we laughed as if we had done it hundreds of times before. My mind was racing all the while my face was putting on a fantastic performance. I wasn’t sure what to do, or what even to think.
This strange man…I had only just met him, and I was already enjoying conversation with him more than my own husband.
“Do you still take your tea with cream and sugar?” I asked, leaning forward to the teapot.
“Of course,” he said. “You know my sweet tooth.”
My heart was pounding in my chest as I prepared to serve this strange man who had just waltzed into my home. Somehow he knew me, but I could not remember him. It was very possible that I’d met him at some kind of event, a ball or something perhaps, but I couldn’t be sure.
I glanced over at Mrs. Brian and gave her the sweetest smile I could. “Mrs. Brian, would you be so kind as to go and ask the chef to make us some honey cakes? All this talk about them has given me quite the appetite.”