“I will talk to a few friends of mine in the theatre,” he assured her. “I’m sure we can find you a decent production to-”
“Don’t bother,” she cut him off and so with a heavy heart, Max left.
He didn’t know what to do about Marie; she was becoming a nuisance but he did feel a responsibility for her. He still gave her money, even though he no longer enjoyed her pleasures, but she did her damndest to try and tempt him, and then make him feel bad when he refused.
He had taken a hansom cab here but needing some time to ponder what to do about Marie, he decided to walk at least part of the way home.
The easiest thing would be if she fell for someone else’s charms. Although she slept with a lot of men, he was her favourite, as she’d told him many times. She had even once told him that she loved him but knowing that he couldn’t answer truthfully without hurting her, he had decided not to reply.
She had to know that he didn’t feel that way about her and even if he did, he could never be with a person like her. Not only was she a fallen woman, she was a liar. He knew that she wasn’t French, and he sometimes even detected a trace of a West Country accent. She was probably a miner’s daughter or similar, who had come to the city with dreams of marrying well, or perhaps acting and who had quickly had those dreams dashed.
Despite her words, he decided to see if he could find her an acting job. She could probably be good with a little training, she did do a wonderful impression of a French woman and perhaps if he could make that dream come true for her, she wouldn’t pester him so often. Plus, she was pretty enough that she would quickly develop a following of devoted men, one of whom, he hoped, might eclipse Max in her affections.
He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he didn’t immediately notice the two carriages outside his house. He wasn’t worried though, until he went inside and noticed the grave expression on the staffs’ faces.
“What's wrong?” he asked the footman, who was acting as butler until they returned to the country.
Before the other man could answer, he saw his family’s doctor coming down the stairs, looking grave. Max stepped towards him.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
The doctor headed towards him, also looking solemn.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your wife has lost the child she was carrying.”
“Is she all right?”
“Physically, she will recover but she was understandably overwrought when I arrived. I have given her something to calm her nerves and left her a sleeping draught. She needs rest, and a lot of it for at least a few days.”
“Why did this happen?”
“She said she had a fall and I believe that precipitated this tragedy.”
“Can I see her?”
“Of course, although I would warn you about overtaxing her. No one knew where you were, so the staff sent for your mother; she’s sitting with her at the moment.”
“Thank you, Dr Hardy.”
Max dashed up the stairs and burst into Lucy’s room without knocking.
“My darling, are you all right?”
Lucy didn’t respond but his mother, who had been sitting by the bedside, got up and headed towards the door, touching Max’s arm as she passed and offering him a sympathetic smile. Max quickly took the seat that she had vacated.
Lucy was curled up on her side in the foetal position, her hands tucked under the covers and only her head showing. Her gaze was unfocused, probably because of what the doctor had given her to help her relax.
“How are you?” he asked.
She slowly focused on him and her eyes filled with tears, which trickled from her beautiful, ice blue eyes onto her pillow.
He was about to reach out and try to find a hand to hold amongst the sheets, when she turned over onto her other side, putting her back to him.
Max ran a hand over his face, feeling like a fool for having gone to see Marie this morning. He should have been here when she needed him. Her need was surely greater than Marie’s, after all.
“Lucy, I…” he didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. “We can try again.”
He saw her shoulders begin to shake and reached out to try and comfort her but she pulled away from his touch, almost as if he had scalded her.
“Go away.” Her voice sounded hoarse from crying.
“Lucy, please.”
She didn’t answer his plea so he simply sat there, watching her. She looked so small and forlorn, a far cry from the spirited young woman that he was used to.
Finally her shoulders stopped shaking and a while after that, her breathing became slow and he guessed she was asleep. Unable to do anything to comfort her, he left, intending to see if there was anything practical that he could be doing.
He couldn’t remember ever having felt this helpless before.
***
Marie greeted Giles Gibson with a kiss on his cheek.
“Did you see her home?” Marie asked.
“I did, but things didn’t go as planned. It seems she was so upset at what she overheard, she tripped and fell.”
Marie smiled.
Everything about today had been worked out with expert precision, from writing those damn scenes to read through, to the time Max was to arrive, then calculating how long it would take a horse and carriage to get here from the orphanage. Plus, knowing that this had to be done on a day when Lucy was working there, or the chances were that Max wouldn’t have come, no matter how much Marie begged.
The doorman had also been bribed so that exactly five minutes after Giles and Lucy had left, the ‘message’ would be delivered to her suite. The note was actually blank, it was just her notice that Max could safely leave without running into Lucy.
The fall had been a happy accident, but it surely wouldn’t improve Lucy’s feelings towards her husband.
“That’s wonderful, Giles. In a few days you can send her flowers, preferably with an overly friendly note to upset Max, and then you can call on her to see how she is recovering and begin to woo her.”
Giles had been easy enough to talk into her scheme. As the second son of a baron, he was virtually penniless since his brother would inherit everything and after a scandal, his family had finally cut off all financial help. Marie had agreed to let him stay with her and sleep with him in return for his help. Her address was a fashionable one, far better than he could afford on his own and besides, he had a very devious side to his nature and seemed to be looking forward to causing some chaos. Besides, Lady Stark was actually very pretty and he did so enjoy the chase.
Maxwell Stark was the only man she had ever loved and even if her dreams of marriage might lie in tatters, she wasn’t about to give him up. She would drive them apart and then Max would come running back to her, she was certain of it.
***
Every day Max came and sat with Lucy for two hours each morning and afternoon but she never spoke to him. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything but lie there, though she did manage a few words when his mother came to visit.
She felt that she could have lived with his betrayal and discovering his lies, if only she hadn’t lost the baby. That final blow just seemed too much to bear.
She knew it wasn’t Max’s fault. She had known what kind of man Max was and if she hadn’t known about his illegitimate children with this woman, she should have; she had lived with him for long enough.
No, it was her own foolish hopes, her own gut-wrenching grief that had caused her to fall down those stairs, and that was her fault for letting herself believe the lie.
Each day Max tried to talk to her but she couldn’t answer him because she knew if she did, she would shout and scream a torrent of abuse at him, which would shatter the fragile defences that she was slowly putting back into place around her heart.
On the sixth day of her confinement however, she had no choice but to speak to him.
“I don’t want you working at the orphanage anymore,” h
e said, out of the blue.
For the first time, she turned her head and looked at him, regarding him with a cool disregard.
“Excuse me?”
“You fell there and lost our baby, it’s not safe for you to continue to teach there.”
It took every ounce of willpower that she possessed not to scream at him that it was learning about him and his mistress that had caused her to fall, but somehow she managed.
“I didn’t fall at the orphanage,” she said, her eyes glinting with the anger she couldn’t express.
“Then where-”
“It doesn’t matter. You will not take the orphanage away from me.”
He looked confused and perhaps a little hurt by her icy demeanour, but simply nodded his agreement.
Lucy looked away and they lapsed into silence, as with so many of his visits. Perhaps spurred on by the first words she had spoken to him in a week though, a short while later he felt compelled to ask, “What did I do?”
Lucy simply gave him an icy glare.
“I feel as though you hate me,” he elaborated. “What did I do that upset you so?”
“You didn’t do anything, Maxwell. This is all my fault, I-” She knew if she continued she would tell him of her discovery that day, and she simply couldn’t afford to let him know how much he had hurt her. “I’m grieving and you are a reminder of what I have lost. That’s why I can’t stand the sight of you.”
His shoulders relaxed a little but the tension didn’t completely leave him.
“We can try again, Luce.”
Lucy swallowed down a wave of revulsion at the thought of having sex with him again. The thought of his hands and his lips on her skin, the idea of feeling him pushing inside her and then at the end, perhaps a forced profession of love, repulsed her and she shuddered.
She would rather sleep with rats that sleep with Max.
“I can’t even contemplate that at the moment.”
“Please, Lucy, at least let me share your bed at night again, I promise not to become amorous but I find it hard to sleep alone now. I miss you.”
“Then sleep at your club, Maxwell, I'm sure there are plenty of women there who would gladly keep you warm at night.”
Max felt as if he had been slapped. Why would she bring that up now?
He had spoken to his mother about her cold attitude towards him but his mother assured him that she would recover, in time. Eleanor had lost two children of her own before they were born and she knew from experience how difficult it was. She explained that every woman dealt with that grief differently but as long as he supported her, she would get over the loss.
He had been surprised when he tried to enter her room that first night and found the door locked. He tapped gently but she didn’t answer. Unwilling to wake her if she was asleep, he had returned to his own room and each night after that, her door remained locked to him.
He thought that she was lying and that she very much blamed him for not being there for her, as he blamed himself.
It hadn’t occurred to him that she had fallen somewhere other than at the orphanage, but that thought was pressed from his mind for the moment, by the fact that she was talking to him again. It was a mixed blessing since she seemed so detached, but it was better than silence.
He left her soon afterwards and was surprised when she came down for dinner that evening, although her hair was only plaited and her gown was a simple morning dress. He smiled tenderly as he saw her but she didn’t even glance at him. She took her seat beside him and the staff scrambled to set her a place.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said.
Lucy took a long sip from her wine glass as soon as it was filled. She wasn’t feeling better, she still felt as if she had a year’s worth of tears to cry but having confirmed that she could speak to Max without scratching his eyes out, she realised that it was time to get on with her life. She knew that there would be letters from her steward to answer, and she had missed two days at the orphanage, plus they were returning to the country in a week, which she had to prepare for.
Her tears could wait until night time, when she was alone and free to grieve.
“What were those flowers in the hallway?” she asked.
His expression hardened as he remembered the bouquet. “I told you about them, remember?”
“Not really, no.”
“They’re from your friend, Giles.”
Lucy frowned. “I don’t know anyone called Giles.”
“Well, he seems to know you; he signed the card ‘fondest regards’.” Not to mention that the arrangement must have cost a small fortune.
Lucy shrugged it off, perhaps Giles was a forgotten friend of her father’s, offering sympathy.
Dinner was a stilted affair with little discussion, nothing like it had been just after their marriage. Max tried to initiate conversation a few times but Lucy’s replies were so short that he soon gave up.
After they had retired to bed, Max once again ventured down the hall to Lucy’s room but once again, her door was locked.
Tonight, he didn’t even bother to knock.
Chapter Eight
Lucy spent the next day in the library, dealing with her correspondence. She put aside all the well-wishes she’d received, unable to read let alone reply to them. Her wounds were still too fresh.
The letters from her steward were friendly but he had simply inserted a line at the bottom of his first letter, wishing her a speedy recovery from her fall. The rest was business-like and she could respond to him without needing to think of what she had lost.
To be frank, she wasn’t even sure what she had lost. The baby, yes but more than that, she didn’t know. She hadn’t lost Max’s love because she’d never had it. She hadn’t lost her cosy marriage because that had all been an act; a childish dream.
And it was that which hurt the most, because she had brought this pain upon herself, through her foolish belief. She may as well have believed in the good fairy, who disposed of childrens’ lost teeth for a reward, as believe that Max loved her.
There was also a letter from her housekeeper, about the arrangements for the first gathering they were to host at the estate. Thankfully it had been sent before news of her fall had reached them, and she was able to respond in an efficient manner.
She was nearly finished when Harris, the footman-cum-temporary-butler came in and announced that a Mr Gibson was here to see her.
“Mr Gibson?” she looked confused as she tried to put a face to the name.
“That is the name he gave me.”
“Let Maxwell see him, it’s probably a friend of his.”
“He asked for you, Lady Stark, and Lord Stark has gone out.”
“Where?” she asked, her thoughts filled with visions of that faux-French harlot.
“He did not say.”
“Very well, send him in and bring us some tea, please.”
“Of course, Ma’am.”
Lucy made her way from the desk, over to the cluster of chairs by the fireplace, where they could talk in comfort and gave a small curtsey as Mr Gibson was announced by Harris. The stranger’s face looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place him.
“How may I help you,” Lucy asked as she gestured for him to take a seat.
He made his way over. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me,” he said, smiling warmly at her. “You were rather distraught. I helped you home last week, after your fall.”
Now she remembered him, though still only in general terms. Most of that journey home was a blank to her.
“I sent flowers but thought that I had better wait a while before calling on you. I just wanted to make certain that you were well.”
The truth was that he had been outside the house for most of each day, waiting for Maxwell Stark to leave. Today was the first time he had ventured out and Giles has seized upon the opportunity.
“I am quite well now,” she smiled, though it wasn’t heartfelt. “Thank you
for your concern, and the beautiful flowers you sent.”
The parlour maid entered then and began to set the tea things out and serve while they talked. Since Lucy was alone, she would remain in the room to act as chaperone, though she would be as discreet as possible, as befits a good parlour maid.
“It was my pleasure, and I'm glad to see you looking so well.” He smiled once again and Lucy could see that although he had a portly build, he had quite a handsome face. She wished that she could have fallen for someone like him instead of Max; her life would be so much easier then.
“Have you enjoyed the Season?” he asked.
“I’m afraid that much of it has passed me by this year; I was married a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, how wonderful. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Lucy blushed, feeling like a fool for accepting his congratulations but she could hardly let the world know that her marriage was in tatters, could she? She didn’t have much left but she still had her pride. “And have you enjoyed the Season?”
“Music, dancing and pretty girls, what is not to like?”
They chatted amiably for quite a while and Lucy found herself being charmed by this man’s easy nature. She soon learned that he was the son of Baron Gibson, a well-respected family, that he was in London for the Season and quite by surprise, she found herself inviting him to the first gathering they were having at the estate, a garden party to celebrate summer, though the guests were free to stay for a few weeks.
He readily accepted and when he eventually left, Lucy felt much happier than she had for the past few days. Just talking about things that had nothing to do with Max and her recent loss was a very pleasant respite for her. Although she wasn’t attracted to him, she could appreciate Giles’ charm and affable nature and hoped that he might become a friend. She could use someone like him in her life.
***
Max was brooding in the rear parlour the next morning, wondering what he could do to repair his marriage and bring Lucy back to him.
Lucy had left to go to the orphanage, leaving him all alone with his thoughts for the day. He didn’t know what to do to help her. Everyone he spoke to said to give her time but Max could almost literally feel her distancing herself from him, inch by painful inch. It took all his willpower not to simply grab her and hold on for dear life. He wanted to say that she couldn’t go to the orphanage again but she had reacted so strongly when he had suggested it, that he knew it would only cause a larger rift if he insisted.
The Convenient Bride Page 7