April Kihlstrom

by The Dutiful Wife

  It was, perhaps, fortunate that neither Lady Kenrick nor Edmund had any notion of the chaos ensuing in the female quarter of the house.

  * * *

  Beatrix stood silent as the female voices all around her argued vigorously about her dress and what could be done about the disaster before them and whose fault it was.

  “If you had only taken out the dress and hung it up when I told you to!”

  “I did that.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t inspect it the way Mama told you to.”

  “I looked at it.”

  “Did you pull out the folds so you could see every inch of it?”

  “Why should I? It looked fine. And if you were so concerned, why didn’t you do so?”

  “There wouldn’t be any problem if Mama had just arranged for a new dress for Beatrix.”

  “Hush! You know we haven’t money for that.”

  “Or time.”

  “We could have asked Lord Rothwood to pay. I’m sure he would have agreed.”

  “Lord Rothwood pay?” Mrs. Trowley’s scandalized voice silenced the rest of them as she turned an appalled gaze upon each of her daughters. “Ask a man to pay for his betrothed’s dress? Whatever are you thinking of? It isn’t done! We have accepted too much from him already. No, we shall have to manage. Melody, get my sewing box. Callista, help me figure out how we might overlap the fabric to conceal this flaw. Beatrix, for heaven’s sake, stand still!”

  Beatrix did her best. Indeed, she had been standing quite still for some time, but it seemed safest not to argue the point. She did try to look down at the damage once but was immediately told to straighten up or they would never figure it out.

  Melody returned with the sewing box, out of breath. She stared doubtfully at the attempts her mother and sister were making to rearrange the fabric. “Wouldn’t it be better,” she suggested, “if we covered the spot with a bow or flower or something?”

  “The very thing!” Mrs. Trowley said, startled into this new train of thought. “There must be a bow on one of grandmama’s old dresses, the one in the trunk that holds her things. If we snip it off her dress and use it to cover the damage here, we might even be able to make it look as if we meant the bow to be there in the first place! Beatrix, wait here and don’t move!”

  Beatrix did stay in the room but she sat on the nearest chair, shuddering slightly in anticipation of just what her mama and sisters were about to do to her dress. To be sure, she could not wed in a dress with such a visible stain on it. That would be an insult to Lord Rothwood. On the other hand, there was no guarantee that her mother’s efforts to repair the damage would not make matters worse. At times like this, there was nothing to be done but to pray and try desperately to think of a better solution before Mama returned with hers.

  Since the area of the damage to the dress was not overly large, Beatrix grabbed her basket of sewing things and chose a fabric rose she had been fashioning to add to one of Callista’s dresses as a surprise for her birthday. Today it would instead adorn her wedding dress. By the time her mother and sister returned with the most hideous bow imaginable, Beatrix had already stitched the fabric rose into place. They stopped in the doorway and stared. Mama immediately tossed the offending bow onto the nearest available surface and clasped her hands together.

  “The very thing! How clever of you, Beatrix!”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you had that flower before we scrambled through the attic and got all dusty?” Callista grumbled.

  “I didn’t recall until after you’d already gone up there,” she answered in an uncharacteristically meek voice.

  It fooled neither her mother nor her sister. “You didn’t trust me to do it properly, did you?” Mama demanded.

  Wisely, Beatrix chose not to answer. Instead she replied, “Isn’t it time to go to the church?”

  “Yes, of course! My heavens, the time! Poor Lord Rothwood will think you have abandoned him at the altar.”

  Beatrix did not think that likely. However, it successfully diverted Mama’s attention from the dress to hurrying them all into Lord Rothwood’s carriage, which he had so kindly put at their disposal. It was not the first time the journey to the church felt far too short, but it was the first time she felt that way for reasons other than dread of the length of the service or the likely subject of the sermon.

  Was she a fool for marrying a man she scarcely knew? And yet . . . and yet she had adored him from the moment he had visited all those years earlier when he was kind to the gawky young girl she had then been. He had spoken to her as if he expected her to be intelligent. He had listened to her opinions without making fun of them, as her brothers and father did. He had held her hand to help her over a stile when they all went on a walk one sunny afternoon. Surely this Lord Rothwood, so astonishingly polished now, still had that core of kindness and thoughtfulness he had shown back then. She would make him a good wife. She would make him happy. She would.

  Unfortunately Mama interpreted her expression not as that of one making a fervent vow but rather someone thinking of running away from the altar. “You must go through with this!” Mama hissed. “All our futures are at stake and yours most of all! You cannot shame us by changing your mind now!”

  Poor Mama. She was so very scared. She spent her life in fear of Papa losing all their money and all of them ending up penniless. Beatrix could not add to her burdens now by letting her think such a thing.

  “Mama,” she said quietly, “I will marry Lord Rothwood today. I have no thought of running from the altar. I will do my duty and do it well. Lord Rothwood will never have cause to regret offering for me.”

  Her mother’s sigh of relief was palpable, not just in her expression, but in the easing of her shoulders, in the way she finally allowed herself to sit back against the squabs. So, too, did her sisters let out a sigh of relief. Only Papa looked troubled, but since it was his fault they were in this predicament to begin with, Beatrix thought it rather just that he should be uneasy, for once, instead of the rest of them.

  Even though Lord Rothwood’s carriage was comfortable, it was still a tight squeeze with all of them inside it. It would have been worse if her brothers had not gone on ahead. As it was, everyone was relieved when they finally reached their destination.

  * * *

  Edmund turned to see his bride entering the church. She stood straighter than he had ever seen her stand before, and she moved with a quiet grace that warmed his heart and settled some of the worry that had kept him awake most of the night. Her dress had clearly been made over, but the rose-colored material had once been fashionable and it suited her complexion. Even better, it fit her in ways that flattered her figure, and made him anticipate uncovering those curves tonight, their wedding night. If the flower on the skirt seemed a trifle out of place, he scarcely noticed. Women were forever trimming their dresses in ways that made no sense to him.

  What he cared about was the smile that trembled on her lips as she placed her hand in his, the shy look in her eyes that held such trust—he found himself wanting to be worthy of it. He took comfort in the way she stood close to him, as if it was he who gave her comfort. He was reassured by the firmness, and even perhaps a hint of happiness, in the way she spoke her vows. She did not shrink back from taking his arm when the ceremony was over, and her writing was clear and bold as she signed her name in the registry.

  The carriage was crowded and she made no objection to sitting on his lap to ride back to the house, even twining her arms around his neck to balance against the jostling along the rutted road. She was a lovely armful and had the ride run any longer, Edmund would have been in danger of embarrassing himself when it was time to get out of the carriage. Fortunately he was able to get out before Beatrix and lift her down, rejoicing in the newly married state that allowed him such familiarity with her person.

  For the first time, Edmund understood the wisdom of weddings always occurring before noon. This way he could direct his coachman to be ready to travel
by midafternoon and know they would reach a suitable inn in which to enjoy their wedding night, well away from the all-too-crowded quarters of the Trowley household.

  Though he had not wanted his relatives there, it felt strange to see the contrast between just his aunt and all of the Trowley family crowding about. Even stranger to realize they had become his family as well. Strangest of all to have none of his friends around him to help celebrate his changed state. Well, time enough for that after he had settled his bride in at his country home and returned to London alone. He did not think she would enjoy the raucous behavior of his friends, nor they the need to temper their behavior if she were present.

  All in all, Edmund felt quite pleased with how it was all working out, just as he had decided it ought to be, with a bride so sensibly chosen.

  Even his Aunt Violet seemed pleased. She and Mrs. Trowley were deep in conversation. What were they plotting this time?, he wondered. Fortunately it was none of his affair. He and Beatrix would leave shortly and now that he was married, his aunt would have to turn her talents for scheming toward someone else. Perhaps she would decide to settle his cousin’s future. He’d never much liked Harold and it would serve the fellow right if Aunt Violet turned her interest that way.

  * * *

  How strange to think of herself as Lady Rothwood, Beatrix pondered, looking up at the man beside her. Her life had just changed forever and she didn’t even know where they were going when they left this house that had been her home her entire life.

  Looking around the table, she wondered how it would feel not seeing her sisters and brothers every day. Or Mama and Papa. Relieved, she suspected, not having to see the havoc Papa wreaked upon the family with his gambling. But who, she wondered, would take over the role of making certain there was food upon the table, vegetables grown in the garden and torn clothes sewn whole again?

  It was a little overwhelming how greatly her state had changed with just a few words spoken in church. It was both relief and guilt at knowing her family was no longer her responsibility. Was she wicked, she wondered, to be imagining what it would be like to touch and be touched by the man at her side?

  If so, then she would be defiantly wicked because she was not about to deny that she craved his touch, had done so from the first moment he stroked her cheek and tucked a curl behind her ear. Or that when he kissed her, longings she didn’t fully understand rose up and made her cling to him in a way that would have been a disgrace if they had not been betrothed and in the country where no one could see.

  Where else would he touch her tonight? How would it feel? To what would it lead? Mama refused to tell her anything more than to give Lord Rothwood free rein and that she might find she liked it very much and that if she did not, it was nevertheless her duty to pretend that she had done so. But Beatrix didn’t want to have to pretend! She wanted to feel whatever it was her mother so clearly felt when she was with her father. She wanted that same flush to her cheeks and laughter in her eyes that she saw when her parents would emerge from one of their private chats in the bedroom on many an afternoon. She wanted to feel for Lord Rothwood and have him feel for her what she saw in her parents’ eyes when they looked at each other. Just so long as it did not blind her to his faults and put their children at risk! There were limits, after all, to what one should accept.

  That thought brought Beatrix back to the present moment and Lord Rothwood, who was offering her a treat from his own plate. She allowed him to slip it into her mouth with his fingers and could not resist licking the tips of those fingers with her tongue. His eyes flared wide; she saw what was surely desire in them, and a smile crossed his face that must have matched her own. It would seem that he was as eager for their wedding night as she was. Surely that was a good sign?

  There was a shyness about her as Beatrix said good-bye to her family and the local well-wishers who had joined them to celebrate the wedding. Excitement, too, as Rothwood handed her into the carriage and she was alone with him for the first time since they had taken their wedding vows. He did not sit beside her as she rather expected, but took instead the seat opposite, his back to the horses. It seemed he wanted to be able to see her face as they rode and that unsettled Beatrix because she did not understand why.

  From everything she had overheard her brothers say, when they thought no girls were around, a man wanted more than anything else to hold a woman, to feel her against him, not to stare at her face or listen to her speak. But then her brothers were all younger than she was and perhaps they didn’t know quite as much as they thought they did. Rothwood seemed content to simply regard her with a lazy smile. Beatrix found herself smiling back.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked.

  “I thought to take you to my family estate,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  “I, er, thought you liked the countryside.”

  “I do. It’s just . . . ”

  “Just what?”

  “Just that I’ve never been to London and I should like to see it at least once in my life.”

  There. She’d said it. What would he think? Ought she have simply agreed to go to his country estate because that was what he wanted to do and a wife should do what her husband wanted? That was what Mama said. On the other hand, that was how Mama lived her life and look where it had gotten her. The family was always short of funds and always worrying about how to pay bills because Mama never told Papa what she thought of his gambling.

  Of course there was a great difference between Papa gambling their money away and Rothwood wishing to go to his estate rather than London. Still, one ought to begin as one means to go on, oughtn’t one?

  * * *

  Rothwood was not quite certain what to make of Beatrix speaking as she was. To be sure, she was making no demands precisely and yet it was evident that if he did not take her to London, she would be greatly disappointed. Well, what was there to object to in that? It could be interesting showing her London and then they could retire to his estate where he could leave her. Having seen how dirty and noisy and smelly London was, she was far less likely to object. And if a few of the ladies snubbed her for their hasty marriage, all the better. It would make her far more likely to be content with life in the country, would it not?

  It all sounded reasonable, so why he was so uneasy, Edmund could not have said. His new wife had not done anything unseemly and still his instincts warned him there was trouble ahead. He could not imagine what it might be, but that was how he felt nonetheless. Still, taking her to London really was a simple enough way to please her and if she was happy, their wedding night would be that much better. Wouldn’t it?

  Aloud he said, “When we stop to change horses, I shall tell the coachman we are going to London instead of my estate.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  The delight on her face was more than enough to make Edmund glad he had decided to change his plans. Indeed, when she smiled at him in such a way, he felt as though he could do anything. She made him want to be the perfect husband and make her happy. He even found himself thinking of old hopes and dreams, ones he had set aside so long ago. Why had his father never told him this was how it could be?

  * * *

  See? Beatrix told herself. Rothwood was kind. He was considerate. He did care how she felt. A warm glow seemed to run through her and she wished she were sitting beside him, not opposite him. Why had he not drawn her onto his lap? Why had he not kissed her here, in the carriage? He liked kissing, he’d proven that a number of times over the past few days.

  Perhaps he thought she was shy? Perhaps he was worried about her delicate sensibilities? It was an absurd notion, but Mama said it was often so with gentlemen. Perhaps she ought to give him a hint that she welcomed his embrace?

  Carefully Beatrix pulled off her gloves and undid the strings of her bonnet. She set them on the seat beside her, ignoring Rothwood’s look of alarm. When the carriage slowed just enough that she felt safe doing so, Beatrix exchan
ged her current seat for one next to him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, looking bewildered.

  She smiled up at him. “Sitting with my husband.”

  He hesitated, then smiled back. He even took her hand in his and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. He took a deep breath and kissed the top of her head. Not quite what she wanted, but still better than the distance that had been between them. She turned her face to look up at him.

  For a moment she feared she had been too bold, but then, with a muffled oath, he swooped down and captured her lips with his own. Yes, this was her Rothwood, her Edmund. This was the man she had wanted to marry, not the rigid fellow he’d been just moments before.

  Still, he broke off the kiss sooner than she would have liked and set her a little distance from him. His breathing was as rough, as ragged as her own.

  “If you do not wish to learn what it means to be a bride, right here in this carriage, it would perhaps be best if you sat on the other seat as before,” he told her, clearly choosing his words with care.

  Was that why he had been holding himself so aloof? Because he wished so much to hold and kiss and, well, do other things with her? Ah, that made all the difference in the world! Beatrix switched seats and put her gloves and bonnet back on. She did not realize she was grinning until she saw a reluctant grin cross Rothwood’s face. He chuckled.

  “We shall make such a scandalous pair,” he said, “if we are not careful.”

  Rothwood seemed in such a genial mood that Beatrix dared to ask some of the questions she had not asked during the short time they had been engaged. “What do you most love to do?”

  His grin broadened. “I’ll be showing you tonight,” he said.

  Beatrix felt herself blush and yet he smiled at her in such a tender way she could not mind his teasing. Still, she persisted. “I think we shall both find that fun,” she agreed, “but I should like to know what you do that makes you happy, what you do as play.”