by Regina Darcy
“I shall accompany you,” he announced and sat down at the pianoforte before anyone else had the opportunity to do so.
Josephina was too nervous to notice anything at all, but when the opening notes of Robin Adair began, she forgot her uneasiness and began to sing in the low, husky voice which made the lyrics seem intimate.
What's this dull town to me
Robin's not near
What was't I wish'd to see
What wish'd to hear
Where all the joy and mirth
Made this town heaven on earth
Oh, they're all fled with thee
Robin Adair.
When she finished the last verse, the applause from the guests was enthusiastic and genuine, although Hastings came in for some good-natured ribbing at his choice of songs.
***
Jealousy was a terrible thing, and Joshua knew of it well.
It was a strong emotion, almost an equal to fear, and poisonous enough the bring kingdoms to the ground. It was like a fire that raged through a forest and burned everything in its wake, destroying all that was beautiful.
And Joshua was overcome with it tonight.
The discourse between Hastings and Josephina left a very sour taste in his mouth, and the way in which they had seemed very comfortable around each other had bothered Joshua to an extreme.
At first, he was sure that his bride was just playing the part of hostess, but once Hastings had begun on the poem and all the guests had broken into applause, a slight frown furrowed Joshua’s brow as he watched his friend lean closer to Josephina and say something which caused her to laugh out loud.
His hands had clenched into fists, and he fought back a desire to call out to them and ask to share in their glee.
Then came the singing. Joshua, who was accounted to have some skill in music, frowned as he had sat upon the settee. He had observed his friend and his wife, a dark feeling bubbling beneath the surface as he downed the rest of his drink and stared, unable to tear his gaze away.
Joshua maintained his poise, surprised by his wife’s lovely voice, but vexed by what he regarded as Hastings’ familiarity with Josephina. What bothered him even more was the jealousy raging through him, something he knew could only mean one thing.
His feelings for Josephina were true.
And strong.
And he was in trouble.
He had fallen for his contract bride, he realised, and just the thought of her finding pleasure with another man bothered him to a great degree.
What a fool he had been. The embers he sought to extinguish had grown into flames, and now those flames were consuming him.
Was she developing an affection for Hastings? After all, theirs was not a love match. Joshua felt his heart shudder.
Hastings was his friend.
If she had her eyes set on him, then he would confront her about it. He was not expecting anything of the sort for another three years. He would not sit idly by and watch as she made a fool of him.
Joshua frowned as he downed another drink and waited for his guests to leave.
NINE
When the evening came to an end, Josephina stood by her husband’s side, bidding their guests farewell and agreeing to call upon them soon. After Stratton closed the door behind the last guest and then silently went downstairs to the kitchen to oversee the cleaning up after the meal, Josephina moved toward the stairs.
“You made quite a conquest of Robin Hastings tonight,” Joshua said, struggling to keep the nuance of jealousy from his voice.
“He is very pleasant,” Josephina replied.
She was tired and wanted to go to bed. The evening had gone much better than she had expected it to, but she found herself weary from controlling her fear of failing Joshua in some way.
Robin Hastings had been very silly, but kind, and she appreciated the way in which he had made her feel like she belonged amongst Joshua’s friends.
“Pleasant? Yes, I suppose so. He’s quite taken with you.”
“Surely you jest? He was just being very kind,” Josephina said.
As she looked at her husband, she frowned. Something seemed to be bothering him.
Had she embarrassed him with her singing? Was he disappointed in something she had said or done? Had she failed to be the hostess he expected and was he regretting the impetuous decision to marry her?
“He falls in love very easily, you know. I don’t suppose you would know, but it is true. Tonight it was you, but during another occasion, it will be another woman.”
“I told him as much,” she said.
“You did? You spoke of his feelings?”
“No, not in that manner. He flattered me with some compliment, and I said that poets are known for their words . . . in truth, I cannot remember precisely what I said, but it was to that meaning. That was why he composed his poem to the venison that Cook prepared.”
“So it was at your instigation that he subjected us to his poetry?”
Joshua pounced on her words.
Even though he knew he was being absurd, he could not refrain from prodding at the site of what felt like a wound.
“My instigation?” Josephina repeated, confusion written all over her face. “I do not remember what it was . . . it was nothing of importance, Joshua, of that I am sure. He is your friend. I thought I was to welcome your friends and make them feel at home.”
“And you did so. Hastings presumed that is all. He ought not to have been wooing another man’s wife.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense,” Josephina said with a smile.
Had she not been so tired, she might have been more diplomatic in her reply, but the hour was late, and she wanted nothing so much as her bed and rest. She thought that she had acquitted herself reasonably well, considering that she was so unused to social encounters of this nature. But something about her behaviour tonight had irked Joshua. She could not think what and she was too tired to ponder the matter.
A part of her wished to set things right, to assure Joshua that whatever shortcomings she possessed, and whatever behaviour had him so vexed, she would take greater care next time. For now, she could not understand his surly mood.
Once more, she reflected on her conduct, and could not find any grievous error, none that would make him so put out. But perhaps she needed a fresh pair of eyes and more sleep in order to better determine the problem.
“Nonsense? My dear, you are unfamiliar with the ways of the ton, but I assure you, that if you were less virtuous, Robin might have crossed the bounds of propriety.”
His words cut deep, like a knife, as if she’d been slapped across the face. She could scarcely believe his reproach, his displeasure at her behaviour, especially considering the amount of work she had been put into making herself presentable and pushing herself to be endearing to his guests, all for his benefit.
Josephina stared in disbelief.
“I do not know what you mean,” she said at last. “He was—I thought I was conducting myself as you would have wished. I thought only to be hospitable. There was no thought of impropriety, and I am very sure that Mr Hastings had no such thought in mind. And if he had,” she said, tiredness giving way to rare temper, the flames licking her wound, “I would certainly not have encouraged him. I am your wife for three years, and during that time I shall ensure that my conduct in no way will bring shame on you.”
“And after the three years?” he asked, despite knowing that he had no right to question her.
She had turned toward the stairs, weary of the topic, desperately trying to conceal the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “After the three years, I shall be a divorced woman, and I suppose it shall not matter what I do. Good night, Joshua.”
Josephina climbed the stairs, slowly, aware that Joshua’s eyes were upon her as she departed.
She did not know why he watched her, nor did she know why he had reacted to his friend’s harmless words and actions with such displeasure. It was not as if he loved
her or felt jealous because he did not have all of her attention.
Theirs was a marriage contract with an ending date, no more. Yet, his behaviour left her with more questions than answers. It put a damper on her bright mood and her perceived accomplishment for the night, leaving her with doubt and lingering uncertainty.
When she reached her bedroom, she found Lisbeth waiting. She wanted to hear more about the supper, but Josephina pleaded weariness, and her lady’s maid, noticing that there were shadows under her mistress’s eyes, helped her undress and get ready for bed. Once in bed, Josephina blew out the candle at her bedside and, swathed in the calm darkness of the room, finally let the tears that she had been holding back spring forth.
Why had such a wonderful night turned so sour?
It made no sense. Joshua had no cause for his ire.
She hoped that he had no upcoming plans to host another supper. She had displeased him without the slightest awareness of what she had done that could be considered objectionable and she did not relish a repeat of the experience. She could only hope that the forthcoming holidays would limit the number of social engagements that Joshua’s friends might proffer.
Once pressed against the mattress, she began to toss and turn, unable to find peace or solace in the comfort and softness of her bed. Even as her entire body ached, her mind continued to race, trying to make sense of the events that had taken place.
Alas, there was none to be made.
Finally, after an hour of futile attempts, she placed her hands firmly at her side and squeezed her eyes shut. She counted backwards as she used to do when she was little until sleep came for her, and she surrendered.
The next morning, she was glad of the breakfast tray in her bedroom. She told Mrs Barkley that she was not feeling well and the housekeeper, guessing that the late night had not been beneficial to one just recovering from a chill, was immediately empathetic. Josephina did not bother to correct her assumption, grateful that she was allowed to be left alone, to rest and mull in peace.
“You just stay in bed, ma’am,” she said, “and I’ll see to it that you aren’t disturbed. You rest now, and you’ll feel better soon. We don’t want you taking a turn for the worse before Christmas Day, when your family will be here.”
At least there were no unforeseen dangers in her family’s presence, Josephina thought as she pulled the bedcovers closer and sank back against her bed, the pounding in her skull intensifying.
Father would complain about something, and Mother would likely have need of her smelling salts, but her sisters would be cheerful. She wondered if she dared ask Joshua whether she could buy some little presents for Sylvia and Maria; nothing extravagant of course, only something to celebrate the holiday. Before last night, she would not have had a qualm about asking him, as he always gave the impression that he enjoyed such gestures. Now, she was not so sure.
For the first time since their arrangement, she was unsure how to proceed, and wondered whether or not she had expected too much from her husband and had given him little in return. At least she knew it was something she had done the previous night, but for the life of her, she could not discover what it was.
The toast tasted bland as she chewed on it, slowly, thoughtfully. She washed it down with some juice, the citrus taste dancing on the tip of her tongue, but going down uneasily until it settled in the pit of her stomach. She sniffed, the smell of butter making her stomach churn.
***
Joshua was on his way down the corridor to his wife’s bedroom when Mrs Barkley met him.
“Mrs Hendrickson is feeling poorly,” she told him. “Poor mite, I daresay she’s had too much excitement so soon after her cold. A good day’s rest will be just the thing. I’ll bring her up some of my tea so that she rests.”
“Mrs Hendrickson is ill?” Joshua asked in surprise.
He had spent a sleepless night berating himself for his overbearing manner toward her last night, even as he could not help from fuming over Hastings’ flirtation. He had awakened with no clear sense of how to stop feeling as he did, or how he should behave after their confrontation. Deciding that the best approach would be to act as if nothing had happened, he was on his way to bid her good morning and to plan the Christmas Day festivities with her family when Mrs Barkley’s news halted him.
“She doesn’t appear to have slept well. I’m sure she’s fine, sir, but we don’t want a cold to turn into something worse. Never you mind, I’ll look after her and she’ll be right soon. Do you want to go over the menu for Christmas, sir? I thought to do it with the mistress, but I don’t like to trouble her with the task if she’s not up to it.”
“As I have invited her family to join us, I think it best if she participate in the planning. She knows them best, after all.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll discuss it with her tomorrow, perhaps, if she is up to it.”
Joshua nodded, his mind on other things. Surely Josephina was not truly ill. She had seemed to be in good health last night, and she had been ravishingly beautiful in her silk dress and necklace. No wonder poor Hastings had lost his heart to her. It was true that Hastings was forever falling in love, although he rarely acted upon the impulse of passion which overcame him.
Joshua felt shame about how he had reacted.
His wife was as virtuous and innocent as a maiden. Which in truth, she was.
It was not her fault that his friend had been struck by her beauty and her graciousness, and Joshua was a boor to have reproached her.
He felt like a cad for having spoken to her the way he had, and for treating her as if she had somehow encouraged Hastings’ behaviour, which, in all fairness, she had not. In fact, she had done her best to keep his friend at bay, all while remaining gracious and cordial. Looking back, he realised that he had been wrong to scold her last night.
He had not been fair to Josephina at all, and he wished to make amends. But he did not know how to go about doing that, not when he had had no intention of addressing the matter at all.
Now, it seemed he would have to revise his plan and see to it that she understood his lapse in judgement. She was not to be held accountable for how he felt. Guilt churned around in his stomach, but he pushed it back, knowing there was no real use for it.
“I shall look in on her,” he said, “to see if there is anything that I might do for her.”
Mrs Barkley beamed.
“I’m sure that will perk up her spirits, sir. She’s just a young bride, after all, and all of this is very new to her.”
“Yes . . . “
He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Was she refusing to let him enter? Joshua hesitated, then knocked louder.
“Josephina!”
***
Josephina, still in the early stages of sleep which had finally come after a restless night, opened her eyes at the sound of her name.
It was Joshua.
“What is the matter?” she called out.
“Nothing, I wish to see you. To see if there is anything that you require.”
“There is nothing,” she said, her heart beginning to pound at the thought of having to face him when she had clearly failed him the previous night.
She could not bear the thought of looking upon him, of having his blue eyes gaze upon her in disappointment and disapproval, and making her feel worse about herself.
As it was, she would gather the courage to face him, but not so soon after their encounter, when the sting of his reproach was still fresh.
Yes, she knew that taking on the role of a wife was not without challenges, but after receiving praise, kindness and encouragement from Joshua, she had expected nothing less, and last night had been the exception. She was foolish to believe he would always turn to her with bright eyes, a wide smile, and approval written all over his features.
She should not have expected that. After all, it was only one dinner party, and she had scarcely any experience mingling among the ranks of polite, upper society, given her upb
ringing. But she had desperately needed his approval, his pride, and she finally understood why.
She had feelings for her husband.
She wrung her hands. How and when had this happened? They had a contract and an end date. This deep sense of longing for that which she could not have had no place in that contract.
I am such a fool. What business do I have falling for a man such as he? We are not equal, despite my rank, and besides, he will never think of me as anything more than a contract bride, a means to an end. To consider anything more would be futile. These feeling will only bring heartbreak and misery.
She stared at the door, wishing Joshua would leave her alone, but she could see his shadow underneath the door.
***
“Josephina,” Joshua said in a low voice, “may I come in?”
“I—”
“Please?”
Joshua could hear the reluctance in her assent. He opened the door and went to her side.
“Mrs Barkley tells me that you are unwell,” he said.
“I am only tired from last night,” she said, avoiding his gaze.
“I am sorry. Perhaps it was too soon after our marriage for me to subject you to the burden of hosting a gathering of guests.”
“I am sorry that I displeased you.”
“But you did not displease me,” he exclaimed. “Not in the least.”
“Then why did you take offense at Mr Hastings’ manner last night?” she asked, her desperate bewilderment overwhelming her diffidence.
Her enormous brown eyes dominated the pale contours of her face. Her hair, a lovely, tousled tumble of amber locks, fell past her shoulders in abandon. Her white nightdress, something she had brought with her from her parents’ home, was plain and without adornment and made her look especially vulnerable as she looked up at him with her beseeching dark pools.
Joshua took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He had spent the entire night thrashing out this very reasoning. Why had he reacted so vehemently to his friend’s playful engagement with Josephina?