April Kihlstrom

by The Dutiful Wife

  But that was apparently going too far because Edmund stiffened into a stern-looking Lord Rothwood. “I don’t know.”

  His voice was curt but Beatrix did not let it deter her. She leaned forward, smiling softly as she persisted in a coaxing voice. “Come. Tell me. Surely you imagined what you would do or can imagine what you would have done? It is just the two of us here. Tell me. What mischief do you think you might have gotten into?”

  For a very long moment, matters hung in the balance. Then his lips twitched. Once. Twice. Finally he grinned and he, too, leaned forward. “Very well. I would have headed for Astley’s Amphitheater. I don’t even know if it was there then, but if it was, I’d have headed to see the animals and the circus acts. I’d have bought food from vendors on the street. I’d have thrown snowballs if it was winter or gone through the park if it was summer. I’d have brought pocket money and stuffed myself on sweets and ices at Gunter’s Tea Shop. I’d have stayed out seeing as much as I could before I went home, because the moment I did, my father would have packed me up and sent me back to the countryside.”

  It was Beatrix’s turn to laugh. Impulsively she took his hand between hers. “You must have been a wonderful boy!” she exclaimed. “I do wish I had known you then.”

  “We did meet when I was a boy. When I was fourteen, almost fifteen.”

  “I was thinking of when you were even younger,” she said, grinning broadly. “Well before you even began to learn how you were supposed to be. Perhaps we could have gotten into mischief together.”

  For a moment, she thought he would say he wished it too, but then his father’s memory, his father’s dictates must have won out because Rothwood pulled his hand free of hers and sat back, as tall as he could, against the squabs. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, in biting tones, “Fine words for a woman soon to be a mother! Pray do not tell me you will encourage our children to indulge in such mischief and disobedience! Patently my father showed great sense in keeping me in the country when I was not away at school!”

  Dismayed, Beatrix settled back against the squabs as well. For a brief moment she had seen how his laughter and happiness had shone in his eyes as he talked about what he might have done. Did he truly think it so terrible that she wished she could have shared the fun with him? It was time she learned more about what had shaped him to be the man he now was. He had told her the barest facts about his family but she needed to know far more than that.

  “Tell me more about your mother,” she said softly. “I know she died when you were thirteen but that is all. Mama and Lady Kenrick never wished to talk about her. At least not in front of me.”

  “I’ve told you, my mother was a dear but very flighty creature. It took a great deal of effort on my father’s part to school her to her proper duties as a mother and wife.”

  Dear God, how stiff his voice was, how impassive his face!

  “Did she sing to you?” Beatrix asked softly.

  His expression eased just a little and so did his voice. His arms came uncrossed though he planted his hands firmly on his knees, his posture still forbidding.

  “She did sing to me. She had the sweetest voice. Father said she was coddling me, though, and as I grew older only allowed her to do so when I was sick. Which did not happen very often.”

  Beatrix could not keep the disapproval out of her voice as she said, “And your mother simply obeyed him. She did not argue with him over it?”

  Rothwood frowned. “Of course she obeyed him. She was his wife.”

  That silenced Beatrix. How was she to deal with a mind-set that said a wife was never to argue with her husband? Even when he was patently wrong! How was she to reach Rothwood when there was such treacherous ground to walk upon? Still she had to try.

  “Will you take me to Astley’s Amphitheater?”

  He started. His eyes narrowed. “Why should you wish to go there?” he asked in a voice meant, she was sure, to daunt her.

  Beatrix shrugged. “It sounds interesting. Perhaps even fun.”

  He did not at once answer, which meant there was hope. “Please?” she added.

  He looked puzzled. He seemed to take his time pondering the matter. In the end he said, “Very well. If that is what you wish.”

  He meant to deal her a setdown with his manner. Instead, Beatrix took heart at the fleeting twitch of his lips and the matching gleam in his eyes. He might not wish to admit to himself that he wanted to go, but the boy inside the man still longed for that adventure and she meant to see that he had it. Oh, not the snowballs or the other trappings but the excitement of seeing the animals and the circus acts. She wanted to see him smile and hear his laughter. She wanted him to unbend enough to be happy. He might not know the lack in his life but she could see it and already she cared deeply that he find it. Even better if he found it with and through her. But even if he did not, she was his wife and she would see him happy. She would!

  * * *

  Edmund wondered what put such a fierce look on his pretty wife’s face, but he was not about to ask her. That would let her think he noted and cared how she felt. It would encourage her to more outrageous behavior. His father always said a man must show his wife the proper way to go on and not coddle her emotions. Those were what made women the weaker sex and for her sake as well as his own, he must remain strong and aloof. After all, hadn’t his parents had a suitable marriage? Certainly he had never seen his mother behave in the outrageous way so many of his friends’ mothers did and surely that was due to his father’s care in handling her and choosing to have her stay in the country while he came to London alone? Hadn’t they all been happier for it?

  He must not allow himself to be swayed by either his wife’s tears or her smiles. She would try both, or so his father had taught him from a very young age. Women needed to be told what to do. Otherwise they could not manage. One must be kind, of course. His father had impressed upon him that men must be kind as well as protect and take good care of women. It was just that men must not be swayed by a woman’s emotions or allow her to think she could make the decisions that ought to be made by men.

  Edmund had an uneasy feeling that he had gone beyond kind and already indulged his wife far too much, but he shook it off. They had been married little more than a day. It was natural and right to allow her a little more consideration. Just until she became accustomed to her married state, of course.

  And why these ideas he had heard so often from his father should suddenly seem not quite so certain, Edmund could not have said. He only knew that he was beginning to ask himself questions, remember moments of his childhood and feel things he did not expect to feel when he looked at his wife. What the devil was going on with him? His father had been the smartest, most respected of men as well as the best of fathers and husbands!

  Hadn’t he?

  But had he ever seen his mother laugh and smile the way Beatrix sometimes did?

  Yes, of course he had!

  When his father was about?

  No, and that was a rather lowering thought. Edmund liked it when Beatrix laughed or smiled. He liked it a great deal. He liked it even more when she laughed or smiled with joy when they were making love. He should hate for that to ever stop happening.

  Hmmmm, perhaps this marriage business required a little rethinking.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Beatrix’s voice broke into his thoughts, causing Edmund to look up and realize the carriage had stopped. They were in front of his townhouse and someone would be opening the carriage door and letting down the steps any moment now.

  Edmund made himself smile at his bride in a way that he hoped would be reassuring. “No, nothing is wrong,” he said. “I was only pondering how we should spend the next few days. Besides seeing Astley’s Amphitheater, of course.”

  She smiled at his teasing, as he knew she would, and moments later he was handing her out of the carriage and leading her up the front steps to his townhouse. It was only when he chanced to look at he
r face that he realized how daunting the house might seem at first glance. There were none of the touches that brightened up so many houses around them. No flowers out front. No lacy curtains at any window. Only clean, sharp lines and servants standing stiffly at attention. Just as his father had wanted.

  For the first time, Edmund realized that there was not a single touch, inside or outside the house, chosen by his mother. Not a stick of furniture or length of curtain fabric or placement of any object in any of the rooms and suddenly he wondered how the house might look if his mother had been given a free hand to decorate. He had an uneasy feeling he was about to find out.

  Still, for the moment, his priority must be to present his wife to the household staff and they to her. It did not cross Edmund’s mind that it was anything more than a formality or that anything would change about the management of household matters. He simply wished to do what was right and proper and this was one of the things one was expected to do when one brought home a bride. The staff, of course, knew their place. With a shock, however, he realized that Beatrix did not seem to know hers!

  The first thing she did that appalled him was to ask each servant to tell her both their names and what work they did about the house. She asked Cook to come and speak with her once she had put off her hat and gloves and pelisse. She told a scullery maid (a scullery maid of all things!) to go to bed just because the girl apparently had a fever.

  Edmund was stunned into silence at her side. What was he to do? If he upbraided her in front of the staff, they would have no respect for her and they would not treat her as his bride ought to be treated. Nor could he let them think this informality would be the new order of business in the house.

  He tried touching her arm. She ignored him. He stepped closer to her and softly cleared his throat in a way he hoped only she could hear. Still she ignored him. Finally he said, with a tautness to his voice that was apparent even to his own ears, “My dear, perhaps you should give yourself time to recover from our journey before you try to sort out how our household is run? I would not wish you to tire yourself your first few minutes here.”

  She turned and looked up at him and her eyes narrowed in a way he could not like. Nor was he pleased at the tone of her voice when she replied, “I am not tired, my dear. It is my duty to make certain your household is run in such a way that it preserves your comfort. The sooner I get to know your staff, so that I can ensure it does so, the better!”

  That would have been bad enough but then she had the temerity to turn to the staff, smile at them warmly and add, “You will have to forgive his lordship. He is accustomed to having to manage everything himself. I know that all of you must be superb servants or he would not have hired you. Please forgive me if I unintentionally offend. You may always speak your minds freely to me and I shall listen. But I do wish to take up my responsibilities regarding household matters straightaway.”

  And they all smiled back at her! Indulgently! Edmund found himself all but shaking with rage. How dare she? How dare she contradict him and do so in front of the staff? How dare she smile at them more warmly than she smiled at him? And how on earth was he going to regain control of his home? No wonder Father had always kept Mother on such a short rein! Here, with his own eyes, he had just seen ample proof that women didn’t know their place unless one did so.

  Chapter 10

  What was wrong with Edmund? One moment he was kind, the next looking fierce and disapproving. She was simply taking charge of the household, the way she’d been told she should. Mama had been quite clear on what responsibilities fell to a woman once she married, and a woman must manage a household. It was different at home, of course, because they had so few servants and Mama had long since been happy to pass the reins into Beatrix’s hands, but still she could not think of anything she had forgotten to do. So why did she have the sense Edmund was angry with her?

  His hand pressed against the small of her back as he guided her up the stairs to their bedchamber. At least that was what she expected. What Beatrix did not expect was to be shown to one bedchamber and told her husband would be in another.

  “But . . . but shouldn’t we share a bedchamber?” she asked.

  His face could have been set in stone for the rigidness of his features. “My parents had separate bedchambers. We shall have separate bedchambers. This was my mother’s room. I trust you will find it satisfactory?”

  Satisfactory? When it meant being apart from her husband? Satisfactory when it looked as if it had been decorated with a male hand, all dark wood and gloomy colors? Satisfactory when the whole room felt cold and forbidding?

  Beatrix tilted up her chin. “Well, then, if this is my room, I presume I may make some changes?”

  He looked startled. Taken aback. As if he would refuse.

  “Please?” she asked softly. “I do not wish to be thinking of your mother when we are here together.”

  That swayed him. “Yes, of course some changes ought to be made,” he agreed rather curtly, then turned on his heel and left the room.

  Well that was odd. Feeling she had an opportunity not to be wasted, Beatrix turned to the housekeeper who had come with them up to the bedchamber in case her new mistress should need anything. And she did.

  “All of this will have to go,” Beatrix said. “Is there other furniture to choose from up in the attic? Other draperies, perhaps?”

  The housekeeper hesitated, then seemed to reach a decision. “Yes, m’lady, there are. Lots of things. Things that ought to be out and about but haven’t been ever since his lordship’s father dictated how things ought to be in this house. It’s been dark and gloomy ever since and if you change that it will be a welcome thing. A very welcome thing, indeed.”

  “And what will Lord Rothwood think of such changes?” Beatrix asked, having a shrewd notion of the answer.

  The housekeeper took a deep breath before she answered. Then, presumably concluding that in for a penny, in for a pound applied, she said, “He won’t like it. Not at first he won’t. He hasn’t allowed us to make any changes since his father’s death. Everything must be just as it was. But it will be good for him to have changes made. How a soul can be happy in the midst of all this gloom, I can’t imagine. He doesn’t know it will be good for him but it will.”

  Beatrix nodded. That settled it. She would go up in the attic when Edmund wasn’t home and have things in place before he returned. That way he wouldn’t have a chance to stop her and once he saw how much better everything looked, surely he would be happy she had done so.

  Well, perhaps surely wasn’t the correct word. Edmund had surprised her in some disturbing ways in the short time they had been married and it might take him a while to be grateful for her efforts. But that didn’t mean she shouldn’t make those efforts. She was his wife now and it was her duty to be concerned with his welfare, whatever he thought of the notion. She would just have to make him so happy when they were alone together that he would forgive her everything else.

  To that end, she turned to the housekeeper and asked, “How long have you been with Lord Rothwood?”

  Rather taken aback, the poor woman replied, “I’ve been with the family some twenty years now.”

  “So you know Lord Rothwood well?”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  “How wonderful! Then perhaps you can tell me all about him.”

  “I don’t know, m’lady. It don’t seem quite right.”

  Beatrix understood the woman’s hesitation, she truly did. But the success of her marriage depended on knowing her new husband better. Especially the things he didn’t know or didn’t think or want to tell her about himself. So now she smiled and gentled her voice. She spoke as enticingly as she could.

  “Just a little. I do want to be a good wife to him, you see, but I don’t know enough about what might please him.” The woman still hesitated so Beatrix added shamelessly, “I must please him if I am to bear his children and provide an heir.”

  The housekeeper drew her
self straight up and said sharply, “I wouldn’t know anything about that side of his lordship!”

  Beatrix felt her face flame red. “I didn’t mean . . . Of course you wouldn’t . . . I—I wasn’t asking about that! I simply meant that the more at ease his lordship is, the better. I want to make his life easier and happier. I want him to want my company.”

  The other woman continued to eye her warily, but after a moment sniffed and said, “I daresay it would be to the good to have a happy Lord Rothwood about the house. Not that he wants or expects you to ease his life. His father raised him to believe a man ought to make all the decisions in a household. Didn’t even let her poor ladyship arrange her own bedchamber. He chose it all for her. As he did the rest of the house. You won’t find this Lord Rothwood thinking it’s your place to rearrange things, either.”

  Beatrix smiled. “Well, then, we shall just have to show him how wrong he is, how much more comfortable he can be if he leaves it to us, won’t we?”

  At last she seemed to have pleased the other woman, whose face broke into a smile. “That would be a relief, it would, m’lady. To have a woman’s touch about the place. And a pleasure to help you show his lordship what he’s been missing.”

  “And the more you can tell me about him and what he likes, the better able I shall be to do so.”

  Her defenses swept away, the housekeeper only paused to take the precaution of shutting the bedchamber door before nodding to Beatrix and saying, “Very well, m’lady. What would you be wishful to know?”

  “Everything!”

  “Well, the first thing I must tell you is that his father had some rather queer notions, even for a lord.”

  “Really? Tell me all about them.”

  * * *

  Edmund began to notice the first changes at dinner that night. What were flowers doing on the table? Why was his wife seated next to him rather than at the far end of the table, as was proper? Who had brought in extra candles to light the room?