by Anne Gracie
They both laughed.
“And don’t expect Mr. Galbraith to understand how you’re feeling—men usually need to have things explained to them.”
Lily soaked up all the advice, feeling rather proud that Emm was talking to her woman to woman, instead of to the baby of the family. Emm had been her teacher once, but now they were like sisters.
“You know I have reservations about this marriage of yours, Lily dearest, but there is a time to let doubts go. I wish you all the best with it. There will be difficulties and misunderstandings—I don’t believe it’s possible to have a marriage without them. But if you care for your husband—and I think you do—you must be prepared to work, and to change some of your ideas and beliefs, in order to achieve happiness.” She laughed. “Don’t look so worried, my dear; I have every faith in you, and in your common sense and tenacity. A happy marriage is a creation of two individuals, not an arrangement brokered by two families. Make up your mind to be happy, and work to make it so.”
It was good, if daunting, advice. And it was starting to come home to Lily that spending a few days with Edward in a carriage and a few hours here and there under the scrutiny of society was a long way from being married to him.
What did she really know of him, after all? People had so many different sides to them. Would he feel, as those ladies at the literary society had said, trapped into marriage by her? She looked at Emm. “And if I can’t make it so?”
“Then you must take your happiness where you find it, in friendship, in family and—with God’s blessing—with your children. When I married your brother, I expected my whole happiness to reside in the friendship of you girls, and in any children I might have.” She laid her hand on her belly and gave Lily a misty smile. “I expected a thimbleful of happiness, and instead I found an ocean. I wish the same for you, my dearest girl.”
Lily came away from their talk full of thought, and resolving that she would do her utmost to make her marriage a happy one. Thinking about Edward, recalling their kisses, and reflecting that the marriage bed was supposed to bring even greater bliss, she was determined to achieve if not an ocean, at least a lake of happiness. Even a pond.
* * *
• • •
Two days before the wedding, Aunt Agatha announced she was taking Lily for a drive in the park—alone. “Why me?” Lily muttered as she put on her smartest pelisse. “She just tries to peck me to pieces.”
“Not anymore.” Rose handed her her gloves and bonnet. “As far as she’s concerned, you agreed to marry Galbraith in the teeth of opposition from the rest of us, which makes you her current pet. It won’t last, so enjoy it while you can.”
“She probably wants to horrify you with gory tales of the wedding night,” George said with a grin. In a very creditable imitation of Aunt Agatha’s precise tones, she said, “Men are animals, gel, so close your eyes, open your legs and conceive a son. Then the nasty business and your duty as a wife is done. I highly recommend the state of widowhood.”
Lily was still laughing as she went downstairs. As Aunt Agatha’s elegant barouche drew away from the house, the old lady said, “We shall talk once we get to the park.”
They sat side by side in silence as the carriage wended its way through the busy London traffic. The minute the carriage passed through the gates of Hyde Park, Aunt Agatha turned to her. “I’ll come straight to the point. I assume Emmaline has explained your duties on your wedding night?”
Blushing, Lily said that Emm had.
“It is an unpleasantness we must all endure, and the best I can say of it is that it is quickly over. Galbraith should know his business, at least.” Aunt Agatha gave her a sideways glance and sniffed. “I suppose Emmaline filled your head with nonsense about love—and quite forgot to instruct you in all the other duties—”
“It wasn’t nonsen—”
“Don’t be pert, gel—it is unbecoming. I have been married three times; you must concede that I know rather more about the institution than a sister-in-law who has not yet reached her first anniversary—there is Lady Bridlington on our right; bow to her as we pass.”
“Yes, Aunt Agatha.” Lily bowed, hoping it was to the right lady. The barouche continued on its way.
“The kind of marriage you are about to undertake, between a gentleman and a lady of the ton, has a number of unspoken but nevertheless important rules. Your first duty is, of course, to provide your husband with heirs, and a comfortable domestic situation. And not to shame or embarrass him in any way. And while we are on that subject, do not expect your husband to live in your pocket, as your brother, Ashendon, does with Emmaline. It is unfashionable and quite unseemly.”
“I don’t agr—”
“Be quiet, gel, and listen— Good afternoon, Lady Hunter, such delightful weather, I do agree— Public displays of affection such as those your brother and sister-in-law indulge in are quite unacceptable in persons of our order. Anything of that sort is to be reserved wholly for the marriage bed, and even then, it is better off ignored.”
“But Cal and Emm—”
“Pfft! Your brother spent most of his life at war—a totally uncivilized environment—and Emmaline, though a good enough woman in her way, was, after all, only a teacher—”
“Her father is a baronet.”
“Exactly—not even a member of the peerage! Now will you listen and stop interrupting! You are a daughter of an earl, and your standards should be higher. There is that Miss Peel waving at us. Daughter of a mushroom! Such appalling manners. Ignore her.”
Lily sent a shy smile to Miss Peel as the barouche swept past. Aunt Agatha continued, “Do not be forever hanging on Galbraith’s arm, wanting him to escort you thither and yon. Nothing bores a husband quicker than an overly dependent wife. You must make your own life and he will continue on with his—a husband’s life changes very little with marriage; a wife’s changes completely. Ah, there is the Duchess of Dinstable. A charming gel. Bow.”
Lily bowed to the pretty young duchess, and the stream of instruction continued.
“You are responsible for your husband’s domestic comfort—run your household well, be strict with your servants and plan your meals entirely around his likes and dislikes. Don’t bother him over breakfast. Nothing irritates a man more than female chatter in the morning. Better still, take your breakfast separately.” She gave Lily a critical sideways glance. “In fact, a gel of your build would do well to skip breakfast entirely.”
Lily had no intention of obeying that one. She adored her hot chocolate and pastries for breakfast. Or a boiled egg followed by toast and honey. Or bacon and—
“Are you listening to me, gel?”
“Yes, Aunt Agatha.”
“Never contradict your husband or openly disagree with him. He will frequently be wrongheaded and in error—it is a male failing—but never point it out to him. Appear to accept his view and quietly do as you think best.”
The instructions kept coming. Lily let them flow over her. Aunt Agatha’s seemed a rather grim and joyless view of marriage. And yet she’d married three times.
“Finally, when you discover your husband has a mistress, you will—”
“A mistress?”
The old lady made an airy gesture. “Pish tush, don’t sound so horrified. All men have them. The male sex is incapable of fidelity, but that’s of little importance. Now, at some stage, when Galbraith inherits the title, he will take his seat in Parliament and in that case . . .” A flow of instructions followed. Lily took little notice.
Why was male fidelity—or infidelity—of such little importance? Men expected women to be faithful, so why could women not expect the same? She thought about Edward and those house parties he attended. Would he honor his marriage vows, or break them as Aunt Agatha seemed to expect?
“That covers the basics,” Aunt Agatha finished. “Do you have any questions?”
>
Lily did. “You’ve covered all the things I need to do to make my husband happy. What should he do for me?”
Aunt Agatha turned to her in amazement. “What a foolish question! He marries you, of course. And thus he provides you with his name, a home, a position in society and an allowance for the rest of your life. What more could a gel like you possibly want?”
A good deal more than that, Lily thought.
* * *
• • •
The following day an unexpected visitor called on Lily. He was a stranger, but the moment Lily set eyes on the tall, spare, white-haired old gentleman whom Emm was about to usher into the drawing room, she knew who he must be. She hurried down the stairs to greet him.
“You must be Edward’s grandfather, Lord Galbraith. The likeness is unmistakable.” To see the elegant old gentleman was to know how Edward would look in forty or fifty years. “How do you do, sir? I’m delighted to meet you.” Her gaze wandered past him, to where Burton was just closing the front door. “Edward isn’t with you?”
“No, he doesn’t know I’m here. The silly fellow thought you’d be too busy making last-minute bridal arrangements to deal with callers, but I’m afraid I couldn’t wait to meet my granddaughter-to-be. Tell me I’m a nuisance and I’ll go away at once.” He smiled down at her, knowing perfectly well she couldn’t tell him any such thing.
Lily laughed. “Of course you’re not. Besides, there’s really not all that much to arrange. My dress is ready, my trousseau is packed and I would much rather spend time getting to know you than anything.”
“Then may an old man request the pleasure of your company for a drive through the park? It’s such a glorious day, it’s a shame to waste it by staying inside.” He glanced at Emm, who nodded her permission.
“Thank you,” Lily said. “I’ll run and fetch my pelisse—won’t be a moment.” She hurried upstairs, a little nervous at being alone with Edward’s only relative. She didn’t know very much about him but could tell from the way Edward had spoken of him once or twice that he was fond of his grandfather. She wanted so much for him to like her.
By the time she returned he’d been joined by Rose and George. He turned to her as she arrived. “These charming young ladies have been telling me you all ride in the park each morning.”
“Most mornings,” Lily agreed. “Not when it’s wet.”
“I’m delighted to hear it. Not enough young ladies ride these days. My dear wife was an excellent rider, and I myself still enjoy the hunt. When you come down to Shields, we’ll take you on some fine rides. It’s the best way—I think the only way—to explore it.” Shields was the family estate. “Shall you and my boy come to Shields on your honeymoon?” He sounded a little hesitant, a little hopeful.
“I’m not sure where exactly Edward’s planned for us to go—he mentioned somewhere called Tremayne Park?” She didn’t really mind where it was; to be truthful, she hadn’t thought past the wedding night. The whole question of it had been giving her some sleepless hours.
“Oh, I see. Quite a distance from Shields, then.” The old man sounded a little downhearted. Then he smiled at her. “Shall we go? This weather cannot last.” He bowed to Emm and the two girls, assured them he was very much looking forward to seeing them at the wedding on the morrow and offered Lily his arm.
A smart landau waited outside, pulled by a pair of matched bays. A liveried driver doffed his hat to Lily. Lord Galbraith waved away the groom who was waiting to assist them, helping Lily into the landau himself. He climbed in after her, fairly spry for a man of his age.
As soon as they were settled, he signaled the driver to move on.
“Now then, Lily—you don’t mind if I call you Lily, do you?—tell me how you and my grandson met.”
She told him how she’d met Edward first, at her brother’s wedding and liked the look of him then. Lord Galbraith smiled, nodded and waited. Lily hesitated, not knowing whether she should tell him the story of her abduction. They’d all worked so hard to keep it secret.
“I understand he was able to help you when you got into difficulties recently,” the old man said gently. “Of course, if you don’t wish to talk about it . . .”
“No, it’s quite all right.” Relieved not to have to prevaricate, she explained how bravely Edward had driven off her abductor and rescued her, and how he’d turned back from his house party in order to take care of her.
When she’d finished, the old man said delicately, “I understand this is a somewhat hasty marriage. My grandson didn’t—”
“No!” She was distressed that he could even suspect such a thing. “He was—he is—the soul of honor.” She explained in great detail how he’d looked after her, and ended by reiterating how noble, brave, heroic and kind Edward had been.
When she’d finished there was a short silence. Then he took her hand in his. “You love my grandson, don’t you?”
Lily nodded, unable to speak.
“Thank God, thank God,” He pulled out a large handkerchief and blew fiercely into it. “Forgive an old man’s foolishness, my dear. It is just that”—he wiped his eyes and blew again—“I’ve waited so long for my boy to find the right woman; I even tried to force his hand once, and that would have been a disaster.”
“Please, don’t say anything to him about what I just told you,” Lily said anxiously. “It isn’t that kind of marriage. He, he doesn’t love me and I would hate to embarrass him with . . . unwanted declarations.”
“Every marriage is unique, my dear. Don’t let anyone tell you what yours is—no matter what the original motivation.” He squeezed her hand sympathetically. “But it’s a rocky path you walk. My grandson is a hard nut to crack these days.”
“These days?”
He nodded. “He came to me as a young ’un, six or seven years old. A quiet little chap I thought him, sickly and undersized.” He gave a reminiscent smile. “Well, that soon changed. I let him run wild at Shields—and he thrived on it.”
“He told me he used to play at being Robin Hood with his merry men in the forest behind the house.”
“Did he now, did he indeed?” He eyed her thoughtfully. “I’ll take that as a promising sign. From all I can make out he never talks of the past.”
“That’s really all he told me,” she said apologetically.
The old man sighed. “He left home when he was not quite eighteen, an openhearted, mischievous boy, a little wild, to be sure, but good-hearted . . .”
“He’s still good-hearted.”
He patted her hand absently. “I don’t know what happened to change him—well, I do, of course—war is full of horrors, and whatever he faced over there, fighting against Boney’s forces, when he came home—well, came back to England—there was nothing left of that wild, merry boy of mine.”
“He didn’t tell you what his war was like?”
“Not a word. He never came home again.”
“I don’t understand.”
Lord Galbraith turned to look her full in the face. “He hasn’t set foot on Shields land since he left to follow the drum.”
“You mean he hasn’t visited you? Not since he was eighteen?” Lily was horrified. She’d been certain Edward loved his grandfather.
“Don’t look at me like that—there’s been no split between us that I know of. He writes to me regularly—he always has, since he went away to school. He’s an excellent correspondent, as long as you don’t want to know anything personal. But if I want to see him I have to come to London, or meet him in Bath, as we did once. Never at Shields.”
Lily didn’t know what to say. There was a world of hurt and bewilderment in the old man’s eyes. “He fought very bravely in the war,” she offered hesitantly.
“Oh, yes, mentioned in dispatches a number of times—not that he’ll ever speak of it.” He glanced at her. “His commanding officer—Genera
l Aldenworth—once congratulated me on my grandson’s bravery, then added that it was his considered opinion that the reason for my boy’s acts of heroism was that he didn’t much care whether he lived or died. Cut deep, that did.” Lord Galbraith gave a heavy sigh. “I think the fellow might have been right.”
They were passing a marketplace. Lily gazed out over the colorful stalls, seeing nothing. Could that be true, that Edward didn’t care whether he lived or died? And if it had been true during wartime, surely it wouldn’t be true now, when everyone was at peace and he was back, safe in England.
Then again, there was that bleak look she’d noticed several times, when he thought himself unobserved and his thoughts were miles away . . .
But he’d never gone home again. Why?
“Gracious me, what am I doing, sharing such gloomy thoughts with my grandson’s lovely bride-to-be on the eve of her wedding? Forgive an old man’s maundering, my dear. Let us talk of merrier things. Is everything arranged for tomorrow—oh, and I almost forgot. I have a little something for you.” He fished in a pocket and came out with a rather worn box. “It’s a pearl set that belonged to my dear wife—necklace, bracelet and the other thingummy. She wore them on our wedding day—of course I’ve had ’em all cleaned and restrung for you—just a trifle really—there are much grander jewels waiting for you at Shields, if you ever get there—entailed of course, but if you’d prefer—”
“These are beautiful, Lord Galbraith. I couldn’t wish for anything nicer,” Lily assured him. “My wedding dress is cream satin and lace, and these pearls will be perfect. And they will mean so much more to me because they’re . . . they’re family pearls. And they come”—she hesitated a little before saying it—“with love.”
“They do indeed. Thank you, my dear. You’ve made an old man very happy.” His gray-green eyes, so like his grandson’s, were bright with unshed tears. “Be patient with that young man of mine, won’t you? And if he doesn’t treat you right, then you just come to me. I’ll soon sort him out.” They both laughed, though it was a little forced.