Chapter Twenty-One
Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
They’d been in London just over a week, and Kit had spoken to her only a handful of times since the ball. Worse than that, when he did speak to her, it was in the cool, carefully polite tone from their past. He barely looked at her, even when she’d come to breakfast in her nightgown and wrap again. He’d always had something to say about that, even when they had been fighting. But now, it could not have interested him less.
She’d considered coming to breakfast stark naked to see if that would cause a flicker of any kind, but that seemed a little drastic.
Nothing she did interested him anymore. He was never around, and when he was, he was all indifference. Somehow, that wounded her more than his insults ever had. And she found herself growing more and more bitter, angered, and resentful. What had caused her husband to suddenly change?
She’d tried to speak with him about Lily Arden’s engagement, but he’d brushed that aside with claims of how fortunate she was to have a husband who was respectable and honorable and, if Colin was to be believed, actually interested in her. He thought nothing about the manner in which the arrangement had taken place, assuring her that most of England’s marriages in the upper classes were carried out the same way. And further told her not to create a mountain out of a molehill.
She’d tried to invite him on an outing to the park with her and the children, but he refused at once. There was too much for him to accomplish, he said, for such a pointless venture. Yet later that day, she had observed him out in the gardens with Ginny and Bitty engaged in some imaginary search for treasure.
She’d even asked him to listen and give him advice on her playing, which ought to have delighted him, given his previous passion on her playing and the interest he had wanted to take. But again, he had declined. She had thought, perhaps, he might have exaggerated his musical tastes and abilities before, but she’d seen him helping Bitty with her pianoforte lessons, singing the melody with her, and his voice had been utter perfection. The blending of their two voices as they sang and plunked had brought tears to Marianne’s eyes, and the joy on Bitty’s face had softened her bitterness.
Kit would be a marvelous father.
If they ever got around to that.
It became very apparent to her, after days and days of the same, that the problem somehow lay with her. He was just as attentive to the children and his associates, and behaved as he ever did when they were in public. He even glared at the attention she received, as he had before, but it seemed to go unnoticed by all but her. He was polite and respectful, and no one seeing them would find anything amiss at all. But the distance between them was greater than it had ever been, and she had no idea why.
She eventually decided that she could not wait for her husband to come to his senses and like her again. She could not spend her days lingering at home, anticipating the slightest bit of attention from him like some infatuated miss. She had to fill her days with better things, and hope that time would soften him again.
Today, she had been more productive than she had been since Glendare, and she felt better for it. She needed to find some useful purpose with her days, and her fortune, and her time, particularly when she would one day be a lady of title, and she might have done so after today. She sighed with satisfaction as she removed her bonnet and gloves upon reentering the house, handing them off to Mrs. Wilton.
“Have you had a pleasant day, Mrs. Gerrard?” the kind woman asked as she gestured for her spencer. “You’ve been gone almost the whole of it!”
Marianne smiled and started unbuttoning the garment. “Yes, very much so. Now, if you don’t mind, I promised Miss Rosie I would…”
“Marianne,” came the sudden bark of her husband, silencing her and causing both women to turn in surprise towards the hallway, where his glowering form emerged.
Marianne swallowed and nodded to Mrs. Wilton, who took the bonnet and gloves only and disappeared. “Yes, Kit?” she asked softly as she rebuttoned her spencer.
He folded his arms in his most intimidating fashion. “Where were you today?”
She blinked and tilted her head, confused at what she was supposed to have done to earn this ire. “Excuse me?”
“You were gone all day. None of the servants or the girls knew where you were.”
Again she blinked, and then frowned at this interrogation. “I was out.”
His eyes flashed ominously. “That’s not good enough,” he growled.
She sniffed and brushed at her skirts with a careless shrug. “I was on several errands today.”
She’d never heard her husband snarl before, but the sound that emerged from him was far too animalistic for it to have been natural. “You tell me your whereabouts right now, or so help me…”
“Are you threatening me?” she interrupted in disbelief, her voice rising with indignation.
His throat worked and she saw a muscle tick in his jaw. “Tell me where you were,” he demanded in an only moderately calmer tone.
She shook her head, suddenly feeling very defeated as the realization dawned. “You don’t trust me.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed. “Whether I do or not is beside the point if you do not tell me.”
Something inside of her burst and she felt a towering rage come over her. “Fine,” she snapped, throwing her hands into the air. “You want to know where I was? I spent the entire day trying to find something useful that I could do with myself, some difference that I can make.” She smiled coldly, as if she didn’t believe it was possible herself. “I went to three charity meetings where nothing was accomplished but gossip, and bad gossip at that, and then I went to call on Gemma Templeton, as she is so downtrodden about Lily’s state, and then, if you can bear the suspense, I went to St. Ann’s Orphan Home to speak with Lady Sprotmire about the work there. And if you have difficulty believing that, you may speak with your great friend, Lord Blackmoor, as he saw me leaving and was kind enough to escort me to Lady Whitlock’s home where we discussed some new music.”
Kit looked a little unsettled by her outburst, and looked away briefly. “That report was unnecessary. I only needed the basics.”
Marianne shook her head slowly and took two steps towards him, then stopped when he took the same amount away. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears. She bit her lip, pleading with her eyes. “What’s happened, Kit?” she whispered, feeling broken. “Why are we back to this? We were friends, becoming more than that even, and…”
He held up a hand to silence her. “In the future, please inform myself or one of the servants about your activities beforehand. This is London, and your safety is paramount.”
The coolness… The sheer detachment of his manner killed whatever light of hope had ever existed within her. The wonderful, warm, charming husband she had known for so short a time was gone, and only this cold, immovable man remained.
She swallowed her grief and nodded. “Are you still willing to take me to the opera tonight?”
“Of course. We have a box, and your brother and his wife, as well as your aunt, will be joining us.”
She smiled bitterly. “How wonderful. At least one of them is bound to be pleased to be seen with me.” With a mocking curtsey, she walked passed him to the stairs and made her way up, praying she would not crumble.
Generally speaking, there was little about the opera that Marianne did not love. All of the finery and excitement of a ball, with all of the opportunities to see those of importance and influence, but in the sort of setting that required more subtle ways to make an impression, all while enjoying what was usually some breathtaking musical talents and engaging scores. The feeling and passion in opera was so lost on the world, and with the restrictions and confinement of English propriety and high Society, one could feel quite stifled. But at the opera, one could be transported to the emotional realms so foreign to one’s life.
Tonight, however, there was little to find pleasure in.
The music was breathtaking, the arias perfection, the duets tormented, and the show itself quite engaging. She was even dressed in a new ensemble that was destined to make the fashion followers envious, a powdery blue silk with a sheer silver overlay that changed the tone of the blue with every flicker of candlelight. Anna had outdone herself with her hair, intricate curls and folds and decorative pins giving her a look that was nothing short of regal, and she felt as stunning as she looked.
But everything, even her new heights of popularity and the uninhibited looks of admiration she’d received from everyone, fell far short of the satisfaction she had wanted.
Kit had barely glanced at her all evening, though he sat beside her. Their hands had been near enough to touch initially, and once Kit had come to that realization, he had jerked the offending hand away and turned himself as carefully away from her as possible without letting anyone staring into their box know. And there were several pairs of eyes staring into their box.
Between Marianne and Tibby, who was shockingly dressed in all black silk and lace, though she had nothing to mourn, it was astonishing that anyone watched the stage at all.
The more people stared, the surlier Kit grew. His face was composed, but cold, and it was palpable.
Duncan and Annalise had tried to ease things before the show and during the first interval, and while Kit had answered their queries with all politeness, he had added nothing to the conversation and avoided anything to do with Marianne. Duncan had given Marianne several pointed looks, all of which she had pretended not to see.
She would have much to answer for if ever they were alone.
She could not keep the secret for long, not when Kit was telling quite enough for them both with his manner.
The curtain fell, signaling the second intermission, and Tibby whirled in her seat to look at them both. “You two need to go out and be seen.”
“What?” Marianne all but barked, her gloves feeling very hot.
Tibby’s eyes narrowed and her black feathers waved a little. “Go out of the box. Walk. Be seen. Smile pleasantly. Let the world observe you. They’ve done nothing less all night, and the pair of you are as stiff as statues. Get up and do it now, or I will do something that will really start some gossip.”
That was all the encouragement either of them needed and they were suddenly on their feet and out of the box. Kit held out his arm and Marianne took it very lightly, both of them avoiding eye contact.
They smiled and nodded to several people, never pausing in their slow, apparently leisurely walk to refresh themselves. Whispers and smiles surrounded them, and Marianne waved to a few people she genuinely liked, smiling as easily as she could manage. She had no idea if Kit did anything of the sort, but neither was she going to look.
It felt ridiculous to parade this way. Why should they matter to anyone else now? They were married, they were back in London, and there were plenty of other scandals to remark on since theirs. She didn’t want to pretend anymore, and neither did Kit.
That much she still knew about him.
When people started returning to their boxes for the last acts of the evening, a small burst of panic hit Marianne. She might never be this close to Kit again, not for a long while, if his behavior towards her was any indication. She had to say something, do something, now, while he was being forced to touch her.
Halfway back to their box, she pulled them both to a stop and yanked him into a small and abandoned hall just off of the main thoroughfare.
“Kit, I have to speak with you,” she rushed in a low voice before he could protest.
The brow he raised was as taunting as it was imperious. “I gathered.”
“Kit…” she began, her voice gentling.
“If you are going to speak on the same topics as earlier,” he interrupted gruffly, “save your breath. I refuse to discuss it here.”
She exhaled and barely resisted the urge to rub at her brow. If he was in a difficult mood, she couldn’t approach a topic of emotions or any sentimentality. If she wanted to properly communicate with him, it would have to be something on which he would converse.
“Then maybe you’ll discuss this here,” she snapped. “I think we should send Rosie to school.”
He went slightly slack jawed, and his eyes became colder. “Excuse me?”
“Finishing school,” she elaborated. “I think she would benefit from it.”
“You want to send her away?” he asked, his agitation rising.
Marianne huffed a sigh. “Just to school, not forever.”
He set his jaw and firmly shook his head. “Out of the question.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“No, Marianne.”
“I am only thinking of Rosie,” Marianne tried to reason.
“That is my job, not yours,”
Marianne paused, clamping her lips together hard as she considered him, and what he was saying. “So I am to ignore the girls in our house?” she finally asked. “Pat them on the heads and beg that they are seen and not heard?”
He seemed to shrug without actually shrugging. “You seemed keen enough before to do just that.”
Marianne stepped back a little, shaking her head. “Not anymore. I love those girls, Kit. I want to be in their lives, and I want to help you raise them, but not like this.”
“I thought you had no expectations of this sham of a marriage,” he said, his words sending a chill through her.
She slowly shook her head, wanting to take his face in her hands and force him to really see her. “I have changed, Kit! Why can’t you see that I have changed?”
“We all change, Marianne. It is a fact of life.”
“I know,” she whispered. “In a matter of days, you have gone from my husband to a stranger. I had hoped…”
Kit turned away and shook his head. “I was a fool,” he muttered with heavy bitterness. “I thought that ignoring the world would be enough, but it is not. It is foolish to think that either of us could change enough for this to be… anything but what it was when we wed.”
“Then why did you marry me?” she cried, a pair of tears finding their way to her cheeks. “If that is how you feel, why?”
He turned his head only and gave her a look that was half furious, half anguished, carrying the torment of the damned within its depths. “Because I couldn’t help myself,” he rasped. He flung himself out of their hiding place and down the hall, away from their box.
Marianne rested against the wall, listening to his angry footsteps fade, and letting more tears roll pathetically down her face. She knew enough of Kit to know that at least half of his words were spoken in anger. But which half? What was truth and what was heat of the moment?
The depth of his agony stole her breath and she cursed herself for having had such power over him. No one should feel that much when it is so little returned or even acknowledged. But how long would he punish her for that?
He deserved to be free of the torment of her, but she deserved the second chance he had vowed to give. If he let her, she could prove to him that his love had not been misplaced. She could not give him the distance he seemed to crave, not now and not yet.
But could he, perhaps, be reminded of why he loved her? He’d had his reasons for loving her before, and she’d been ignorant of them all. Now she was more aware of him than she was herself, and she wanted to earn him.
She wanted her husband to love her again. And she wanted to love him back.
She made her way back to the box just as the music started back up. Duncan saw her enter and frowned at her being alone.
“Where is Kit?” he hissed, leaning over to avoid being overheard.
Marianne smiled as sadly as she could. “He is unwell, I am afraid, and went home. I would accompany him, but he insisted that I stay, as I love the opera so.” She bit her lip and forced down the lump of shame in her throat. “If you could perhaps see me home tonight, I would be most appreciative.”
Her brother looked at her carefully, and she prayed she was enough of an actress to fool him. He pursed his lips a little and nodded. “Of course, minnow. I don’t like your husband leaving you, but it is done now.”
She nodded her thanks and focused on the stage, but noticed nothing at all as her mind whirled with how to put a plan into action.
When the opera reached its conclusion, their party made their way to the carriages, several admirers and associates slowing their way for final conversations and praises. But Duncan was imposing enough to ward many away, and Tibby was not shy about her desires for home either.
Marianne wrapped her cloak more tightly around her as they exited the theater, then came to a startled halt as her carriage and footmen waited there. It took her several moments to understand what that meant.
Kit, despite his fury, had hired a hack or walked to wherever he had gone, and left the comfort of the carriage for her.
Impossibly, her emotions welled within her at the sight. Still a gentleman after all. He had made sure she would not want for a way home.
Hope, that stubborn little flame, flickered again.