Chapter 28
“After we had spent all those minutes together talking after your mother’s funeral, I would have imagined the Duke would have been sitting for afternoon tea with us today,” Esme said and was clearly disappointed.
“Please believe me when I tell you that it is certainly nothing to do with you that Elliot is not here with us today. In truth, I think it has more to do with me.”
“Do you mean because of what your father told you about Anthony?” Esme said in a whisper as the two of them sat cloistered in the drawing room of Coldwell Hall.
It was only Esme’s second visit, and already she seemed at home there, just as she had always seemed at home at Upperton Hall. It was very likely that it did not matter where she and her friend sat down to talk, Esme was most comfortable.
“Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Ever since we sat down and talked about it, Elliot has been very quiet. I know that he does not blame me exactly for what happened, but I cannot help thinking that he finds me now to be a little tainted by association. After all, the same man who raised Anthony raised me, did he not?”
“That might be so, but that same man raised you both very differently. He did not raise you to be arrogant and entitled. He did not raise you to be cruel and intimidating. He raised your brother to be those things, and he now reaps the benefits of that. But I cannot believe for a moment that Elliot would think you in any way the same. I can hardly believe that he would think you in any way affected.” Esme had finished her tea and was reaching forward to pour them both another.
“It is all that I can think of which explains his absence and his extreme quiet when we are together. We have not played music in the library for many days, since before I heard of my mother’s death.”
“Perhaps that is why, Isabella. Perhaps the Duke is giving you time to adjust to the awful shock of hearing that your mother had died and the even greater shock of hearing of the manner of her passing. Perhaps he is giving you some time in which to adjust to it all. Everything you have told me of the Duke would lead me to suspect him of being a very kind and considerate sort of a man. And I must say, all the better for meeting in person.” Esme gave a broad smile.
“I still have yet to thank you for resolutely ignoring the hood that my husband wore to my mother’s funeral when everybody else could do nothing but stare right at it,” Isabella said and smiled in return.
“What hood?” Esme said and then chuckled.
“Esme, whatever would I do without you?”
“I am sure that you would manage, but I should not like to test the theory.”
“And neither would I.”
“I do think that it might take a little time for you to adjust to everything that happened, Isabella. I know that you and the Duke were getting on better and better all the time, but all is not lost. You will get back to where you were before all this sadness and tragedy occurred. Just give it time and a little patience.”
“It had taken so long for us to get to where we were, and it was so tentative, almost precarious, that I do not know if we will ever achieve such a moment again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we had become a little close on the last evening we were together, just before dear Crawford Maguire came with the dreadful news.”
“Close how?” Esme sat bolt upright and put her teacup down on her saucer with a clang. “What do you mean? Spare me none of the details, miss nothing out.” Esme was full of excitement.
“It was nothing very serious,” Isabella said, but she knew that her cheeks were flushing scarlet.
She had thought of that evening more than once and, when she did, it always brought a rosy glow to her face. Whenever she closed her eyes and remembered him behind her, his hands over hers as she worked the bow and held the violin, it was almost as if she could still feel him there.
He had covered her hands with his own most firmly, and she remembered the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. It had been the most intimate moment of her entire life, despite the fact that she had been married for some months.
She knew that her feelings towards him had changed again that night. It seemed to her that her feelings for him changed a little here and there as every day passed. But some of the changes were bigger than others, more memorable somehow, and that was certainly the most memorable change of them all.
It was the night when Elliot Covington, the man, had become attractive to her. Not the Duke, and not just the beautiful, unblemished side of his face, but everything about him, inside and out.
And then there had come the knock on the door which had changed everything, had set them back so far that she did not know if they would ever return to that moment again.
“Serious enough to make you blush, my dear. For goodness sake, tell me all of it.” Esme had risen from her own armchair and scampered around the low table to sit next to her friend so closely on the couch that there was not even space for a feather between them.
In the end, Isabella had told her everything. Esme was her oldest and finest friend, after all, and were these not the very things that friends expected to hear? Had it been the other way around, Isabella knew that she would have pressed Esme for every delicious moment.
And it had been wonderful to say it out loud. It had given Isabella a little thrill of excitement to see the look of wonder on Esme’s face. A very important moment had, indeed, passed between man and wife, and the look on Esme’s face was somehow confirmation of it.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Esme said over and over again throughout the telling of the tale. “How very romantic.”
“Do you think it is romantic, Esme?” Isabella said as she felt uncertainty creep over her once more.
“Of course, I do,” Esme said dumbfounded. “Why? Do you not think it is so?”
“At the time I did, yes. In truth, I am sure I felt it. But in these last days, I cannot help thinking that I have somehow mistaken it all. It is as if it could not have possibly been that Elliot and I were ever so close. It is hard to explain, but I cannot imagine he thinks of that night as I do. If he even thinks of it at all.”
“That cannot be true. Not if everything which passed between you was exactly as you told it to me.”
“It was.”
“Then the Duke cannot fail to have been moved by it. Think about it, Isabella. The Duke, a man who has spent the better part of eighteen years alone, barring his friend and his servants, would surely have been starved of the finer feelings of closeness. For him to have been so close as to be touching you that night must be among the things he will never forget as long as he lives. Isabella, it cannot have meant nothing to him. It cannot possibly have meant nothing to him. Do you not see?”
“When you explain it out as you do, yes, I do see. But then what can explain his behaviour towards me now? I cannot quite put it into words, Esme, but Elliot is so very distant currently. I accept what you say that he might be giving me room for adjustment in trying times, but his determination to be away from me is something that I find peculiarly hurtful.”
“And you are sure that he is determined to be away from you?”
“Yes, I am. I have sat in the library night after night playing the piano and waiting for him. And now I do not even bother to play; I sit there in silence staring down at the keys and wishing that he would come. But he does not come, Esme. He stays away.”
“It strikes me that you must speak to him about it,” Esme said and held up a hand when Isabella made to object. “What have you to lose by speaking to him? As far as I can see, that is the only way that you will have an answer in all of this. And for reasons best known to yourself, actually speaking to him, actually asking outright, is something that you have avoided more than once since you have been married. But I cannot help saying that it is surely the most sensible and practical path to take in all of this. If you do not ask him, you are simply flailing around blind, are you not?”
“You are always so sensible, Esme. And I know that it is right; I know that that is what I must do. But it is so very difficult to make such an approach to Elliot for he is such a quiet man. I cannot help thinking that having spent so many years alone, he is much used to keeping his own counsel on so many issues. I am perpetually worried that if I persist, I am doing nothing more than taking his silence away, depriving him of it almost.”
“I have no doubt that that is a very distinct possibility for a man who has been alone for so long. But just because he is used to his silence and solitude does not mean that he enjoys it. It is a habit and very likely follows the path of most habits. Neither enjoyable nor breakable without assistance.”
“I wish I could feel your confidence, Esme,” Isabella said with a sigh.
“Do not be fooled by my confidence, my dear. After all, it is very easy to talk with confidence upon somebody else’s situation, is it not?” Esme gave a self-deprecating laugh.
“Oh, Esme, you do lighten my mood.”
“That is what friends are for, are they not?”
“I daresay it is, and I must tell you that I greatly look forward to the day when I can return the favour. For now, it seems that the tide flows only from you to me.”
“That is by necessity, Isabella, not design.” Esme picked up her tea again and sipped it, despite the fact that it had cooled considerably. “Forgive me for being so forward, Isabella, but there is something that I must say. Or ask; I am not sure which.”
“You may speak freely, Esme.” Isabella smiled at her friend reassuringly.
“You are now in love with your husband, are you not?”
“Yes, I truly believe that I am in love with Elliot.”
“And have you looked upon his face properly since we last spoke of it? Have you made it your business to do so?”
“I have tried, but Elliot is still so private on the matter. Even on that evening when we were so close, Elliot stood behind me. He is always behind me when we play music. And even when he came down to escort me out of the carriage to go to my mother’s funeral; he already had that hood of his in place. He did not wait until he got into the carriage but hid from me immediately. I cannot help thinking that it is me he hides from more than anybody.”
“I cannot see that is entirely true, although there may be some truth in it. You forget; I stood with your husband whilst you spoke to your father after the funeral service, and I saw what he suffered in those moments. Much apart from trying to give an ear to the conversation you were having with your father, the Duke had to deal with the stares and the whispers all around him. And the whispers became louder and louder as everybody grew in confidence. Safety in numbers, I suppose, and the fact that small mobs of people always seem to think as one.”
“Oh dear, did he really suffer so much? I did see some surreptitious glances throughout the ceremony and saw even more obvious ones just afterward. But I must admit, once I realized that my father wanted to speak to me, everything else became forgotten.”
“Well, he really did suffer, Isabella. He suffered in a way which made me furious, made me want to speak out loud and tell them off for their stupidity. For heaven’s sake, it’s just a scar. It is not a contagion, it is not a blight on the soul, it is not a description of the man beneath. It is just ruined skin, and nothing else. And they did not even see that much, did they? They saw only a hood covering it all. Would they be so excited at the sight of a hat, I wonder? Or a new pair of breeches?” Esme grinned.
“You make the world seem so very simple,” Isabella said sadly.
“Because I do believe that sometimes the world is as simple as you make it. Listen, we do not always have control over our destinies, especially as women. But when we do have the opportunity to accept things and to make things our own, we must take those opportunities. We must not sit and wonder how everything will go wrong when there is a chance that everything will go right. We must not dwell upon the look of a thing or the opinions of others when there is a life to be lived. And I believe that there is a life to be lived for you here at Coldwell Hall, a good life for both you and the Duke. Now, why on earth would the two of you not take an opportunity like that in both hands and run as fast as you can with it? Really, it makes no sense.” Esme laughed.
“I do so love you, Esme. You are so bossy, and yet I love you all the more for it.”
“Then you must do as I say and make the best of things. The more you make the best things, the more you realize that you already have the best of things. Does that make any sense at all?”
“It makes perfect sense.”