Chapter Thirteen − Miserable
Staring up at the dark ceiling and listening for the telltale signs of the leaking roof, Derek could not convince his muscles to relax or his mind to surrender to sleep. It did not matter that a hard day’s work lay ahead of him. He simply could not ignore the fact that his wife was sleeping in the room beside his.
So close…and yet, so far away.
Why had she come? He wondered for the thousandth time. Had she grown tired of her affair with Townsend so soon?
Gritting his teeth, Derek felt his hands ball into fists as he fought the urge to flee the bed and occupy his body to distract his mind. Maybe he ought to go chop some wood. Winter was not too far off, and they would need all the warmth they could get in this house.
However, he did not dare move from the bed as he feared more than anything that his sister would learn of Townsend’s involvement in all of this. Had she not suffered enough? Had it not taken every bit of faith and hope she had had to allow herself to find love again? Was she not happy now with Sean?
A small smile came to his lips. Yes, she did look happy. The way she looked at her husband spoke of a deep devotion.
Derek could only hope it would remain that way, that nothing would upset Kara’s little world.
Maybe he ought to speak to Madeline and ask her not to mention Townsend in his sister’s presence. But would she not ask for a reason for such an unusual request?
Tossing and turning, Derek found little sleep that night. When he headed down to breakfast the next morning, he was not at all surprised to see his wife absent.
“Shall I see to her?” Kara offered, handing Collin a bowl of porridge.
Shaking his head, Derek declined. “She has her lady’s maid, doesn’t she?” he grumbled, worrying that his wife’s presence might upset the delicate trust that was beginning to form between him and his tenants. What would they think of her walking around the estate in her fancy gowns, a lady’s maid on her heels?
As he looked up, he found his mother’s watchful eyes on him. “Do you have something to say?”
A sly smile on her face, his mother shrugged her shoulders. “It is not for me to tell a husband how to treat his wife.”
Derek chuckled, “Since when?”
His mother laughed, her eyes sparkling like those of a mischievous child. “Ye know me too well, my son.”
“Then say what’s on your mind.”
Smiling, she merely shook her head and turned back to her breakfast, offering seconds to Madeline’s coachman, who looked more than a little uncomfortable at the intimacy of their conversation.
By the time they had finished their breakfast, his wife’s lady’s maid, Anne, entered the kitchen and was immediately ushered to an empty chair. “Here, you go, my dear,” his mother hummed, clearly delighted to have so many people to take care of.
“Where is Ma…Lady Ainsworth?” Derek asked, feeling at odds about how to address her. In London, it had felt natural to address her more formally. Out here, however, it struck him as strange and unnatural. He could not say why.
“She’s still asleep, my lord,” Anne replied, quickly returning her gaze to the bowl before her.
“I see,” Derek mumbled, doing his utmost to prevent meeting his mother’s gaze. Then he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me?”
When no objection came, he headed upstairs, wondering about what to do. If his wife truly intended to stay, then she would have to find her place at Huntington House, and at present, there was no place for a fine lady here.
Knocking on her door, Derek waited, the muscles in his arms twitching impatiently. When no reply came, he hesitated for only a moment before opening the door and striding into the room.
The thin curtains were drawn, only allowing a little light into the room. On the bed, he could make out Madeline’s form, curled into her blanket, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling with deep slumber.
A part of him wanted to leave and grant her this brief respite from reality. It had not escaped him how shocked she had been the day before upon discovering the condition of Huntington House as well as the nature of her future life here.
Stepping up to the bed, Derek gazed down at her, his eyes tracing the slim line of her neck before they travelled to her full lips. Instantly, his own tingled with the memory of their kiss, and he cursed himself for having acted so impulsively. He should never have touched her. Especially not now when he could not say what had happened between her and Townsend.
He felt an almost desperate need to find out.
And yet, he did not dare ask…afraid of what the answer might be.
Still, her reaction to his impromptu kiss had shown him how much he cared for her.
He had seen her panic, seen the fluttering of her hands, the rapid beating of the pulse in her neck, the way her breathing hitched and her eyes had almost rolled backwards into their sockets to shut out the truth that came rushing at her.
And he had acted without thought, only wishing to put her at ease.
And so, he had kissed her…and she had kissed him back.
Had it only been out of a desperate need to hold on to something and not be abandoned to the panic that had seized her? Or had it been more? Had her teasing comments afterwards indicated an attachment on her part?
In that moment, Madeline’s eyelids began to flutter and then flew open. Staring up at him, she remained stock-still for the barest of seconds before a blood-curdling scream escaped her lips and she shot bolt upright. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, panting under her breath, as she clutched the blanket to her chest. “Get out!”
Drawing in a deep breath, Derek abandoned all tender feelings that had begun to bloom in his heart. “You’re late,” he snapped. “Breakfast is already over.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she retorted with equal measure, pulling the blanket up under her chin as though suddenly modest. “This room is far from adequate. The bedclothes are terribly scratchy. It’s cold and…” She glanced around, her arm moving in a sweeping motion over her surroundings. “The general lack of comfort is shocking.”
Not having expected anything less, Derek grinned, then slowly leaned forward, watching her intently, and rested his hands on the mattress, his face only inches from hers. “Complain all you want,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “but know that it will not change anything.” She swallowed, and her breathing came more rapidly. “This house is all we have, and if you wish to see it shine again, then you need to get out of bed, get dressed and get to work.”
Once again, her eyes widened in shock. “Do you truly expect me to do menial work? You cannot be serious!”
In that moment, Derek could not keep the devilish grin off his face nor could he keep himself from grabbing a fistful of her blanket and yanking it away.
In answer, his wife screeched and scrambled off the bed. “How dare you?”
“Why are you here?” Derek demanded, stepping closer, watching her retreat. “Why did you come? To be quite honest, I did not expect to ever see you here.”
Her eyes flitted around the room before she forced them up and met his. Retreating until her back was against the closed door, she seemed uncertain for a moment, but then raised her chin and stood her ground. “You invited me, remember? In your letter.”
“That I did,” Derek agreed, barely aware of the fact that his gaze had begun to travel over his wife’s body, taking in the soft blush of her cheeks as well as the loosened knot in the front of her nightgown. If he were to…
Shaking his head inwardly, Derek swallowed. He truly ought to maintain a certain distance from his wife! Despite their spiteful words, there was something between them, luring them closer, drawing them in.
“Then why are you surprised?” she demanded, her deepening blush evidence that she was aware of his roaming gaze.
“Because last we spoke−”
“On our wedding night?” she interrupted, open accusation in her green eyes.
“−you made it unmistakably clear,” he continued, ignoring her interruption, “that you did not care for my company but preferred that of another man.” His voice grew harsher as he stepped toward her, boxing her in between his body and the door, an unspoken question hanging between them.
With unwavering eyes, she held his gaze, her jaw tense as she inhaled. “I will not answer,” she whispered then, her voice determined, “if you do not ask.”
Derek swallowed, unable to tell if she was merely teasing him or sought to see him suffer. Whatever the reason, for the first time in his life, Derek found himself to be a coward for he could not ask because he did not dare know the truth, afraid of what it might do to him, afraid he would not be strong enough to bear it.
Instead, he stepped back, and a touch of regret came to her dark green eyes. “I do not care what you do,” he hissed, cursing himself for he knew it to be a lie. “However, if you wish to remain here, you need to do your part for we have no servants here to do it for us.” He noticed her body trembling−if from the cold or his harsh words he could not say−and he wished he could simply pull her into his arms. “Our own hands’ work is all we have,” he continued, reaching for the door handle. “It is a hard way to live, but a proud one.”
Strangely calm, his wife held his gaze, then stepped to the side and allowed him to open the door. All the while she watched him with those deep green eyes as though seeing something that had eluded her before.
Slightly unnerved by her scrutiny, Derek took his leave and headed back downstairs. Then he rolled up his sleeves, reached for his tools and rushed outside to meet his tenants.
If only he knew what to do about his wife. If only he knew why she had come. He would never have expected her to, not unless she had nowhere else to go.
Derek frowned. Did she?
***
Leaning against the closed door, Madeline slowly drew one breath after another into her lungs as she willed her trembling nerves to calm. Everything her husband said and did was so at odds that she did not know what to think.
Had he not seemed jealous just then? And yet, he had snapped at her, saying that he did not care.
Oh, but the look in his eyes…
The memory sent another shiver down her spine, and Madeline could not help but smile at the delicious feeling it awakened. She ought to have kissed him as he had kissed her the day before. Would he have kissed her back? Madeline wondered. Or would he have pushed her away?
When Anne finally came and helped her dress, Madeline was no closer to an answer. Her husband steadfastly remained an enigma that she could not seem to solve. However, at the same time, he infuriated her. How dare he demand that she work? After all, she was a lady, a member of the ton. Work? That was preposterous!
Still, something in the way her husband had looked at her told her that he was indeed serious and would not allow her to refuse his demand. What ought she to do? She could not very well work with her lady’s maid here to see her. That would be beyond shameful! There would have to be another way.
Instructing her lady’s maid to see to her travelling dress from the day before−it still bore her husband’s dirty hand prints from when he had seized her−Madeline headed downstairs. Although she still felt reluctant to enter the kitchen, her growing hunger overpowered her sense for decorum. Fortunately, the kitchen was almost deserted, except for Bessy.
Greeting her new mother-in-law, Madeline stepped forward, her eyes gliding over the work bench where remnants of their earlier breakfast remained.
“Ye must be hungry,” Bessy observed, a kind smile on her wrinkled face. “Come and sit, dear. I’ll fetch ye something.”
Sinking into one of the chairs, Madeline sighed when the aroma of fresh bread and delicious preserves reached her.
“We don’t have much,” Bessy stated, placing a plate as well as a steaming cup in front of Madeline, “but I do believe that we’re among the fortunate ones.”
Eating her fill, Madeline could feel her mother-in-law’s eyes on her. Not unlike her son, she had a knack for watching those around her with a rather unsettling intimacy as though she could look straight into Madeline’s soul. It was unnerving to say the least!
“Your coachman is gettin’ ready to leave within the hour,” Bessy said unexpectedly, her sharp eyes fixed on Madeline. “He’s out back hitchin’ up the horses.”
Madeline nodded, taking a sip from her tea. Oh, how she wished she could go along! And yet…
“Maybe ye ought to send your lady’s maid back with him.”
At her mother-in-law’s suggestion, Madeline’s head snapped up and she stared at her with unconcealed shock.
“We canna afford servants here,” Bessy explained. However, something in her eyes suggested that that was not the reason she wished her daughter-in-law’s lady’s maid gone.
Madeline cleared her throat. “My father will−”
“It wouldna be right,” Bessy interrupted her. Then she sat down across from her, her eyes imploring as she spoke. “Ye did not come here because ye wished it, did ye?”
Madeline could not suppress a snort, “Who would want to live in such a decrepit house?”
A sad smile came to her mother-in-law’s face. “Ye’ve grown up differently than us or ye’d know that there are places far worse than this and people still call them home.” She leaned forward. “We are safe here. Surely, life is full of work, but it is peaceful. We are very grateful for the way Derek looks after us.”
Watching her mother-in-law intently, a woman who had lived a life so much different than her own, Madeline noticed the faraway look that came to the old woman’s eyes. As she spoke, her voice was soft, full of memories. “My husband died when Derek was all but ten years old. Ever since then, he has been looking out for us, shouldering burdens that no child should know.” Sadness and pride tinged her voice with equal measure. “And he still does, taking care of everyone, working himself to the bone. He rarely shares his burdens.” Blinking, Bessy turned her gaze to Madeline, hope shining in her eyes. “Maybe he will share them with ye.”
Madeline swallowed, strangely reluctant to disappoint this woman’s hopes. And yet, why would her husband confide in her if he did not confide in his family? After all, theirs was not a marriage of affection. It had been born out of a scandal no less!
“Ye do not look happy, my dear,” Bessy observed, her watchful eyes still fixed on Madeline’s face.
Not knowing how to reply, Madeline merely shook her head, sighing. What was she to say? How could anyone understand what went on in her heart if she herself was so lost?
“’Tis not this place, is it?” Bessy continued her line of questioning. “I’m certain ye’re used to fancier houses and workloads of servants, but ‘tis not the condition of Huntington House that’s the reason. Ye’ve been sad for a while now, have ye not?”
With wide eyes, Madeline stared at her mother-in-law, once more feeling as though the other woman could look into her very soul. No one had ever noticed. Or at least, no one had ever asked her that. Was she happy? She was supposed to be. And why would people not expect that of her, considering everything she had? Was she not one of the few fortunate ones?
Blinking, Madeline noticed a lone tear slowly running down her cheek and hastily brushed it away, embarrassed to have shown so much of her inner self.
Her mother-in-law nodded, a knowing gleam in her watchful eyes. “Ye’ve been miserable for a long time, haven’t ye? Only putting on a brave face?”
Madeline swallowed, her hands clenching around the hot cup as she averted her gaze, staring down into the amber liquid, small wisps of steam wafting into the air. Willing the lump in her throat back down, she wished she could simply vanish into oblivion. How had her life come to this? She wondered, a long, heavy breath leaving her body.
“Ye’ll be all right, dear,” Bessy whispered then, her voice certain as though she had already seen Madeline’s future. With a soft smile on her weathered face, she reached out and her work-worn hands wrapped gently around Madeline’s. “Maybe coming here will help ye smile again.”
Again, Madeline swallowed as she could not see how this was possible. After all, every change in her life had been for the worse. Had she not lost more than she had gained? Had she gained anything at all?
“’Tis your home now,” Bessy continued, gently squeezing Madeline’s hands, as her sharp eyes sought hers, “and we’re your family.”
For a moment, Madeline’s heart stopped as she stared at her mother-in-law. She could not help it, but despite the old woman’s kind smile, her words sounded like a punishment, a sentencing. Yes, they were her family now. She was trapped here, tied to them for life.
“Know,” Bessy whispered then, her eyes imploring, “that no matter what was before, we will stand by ye. Ye’re not alone.” Nodding at Madeline encouragingly, Bessy then rose from her chair and returned to the workbench, chopping vegetables as she hummed a sweet little melody under her breath.
Staring at her mother-in-law, Madeline felt a cold chill brush over her fingers now that Bessy’s hands had left, and for a moment, Madeline felt utterly alone. However, then her mother-in-law’s words repeated in her ear, and she wondered what it would feel like to be a part of their family. Certainly, her parents as well as Aunt Odelia had always been loving and kind. However, they had always followed their own idea of what Madeline might need and ought to be. Rarely had they paid attention to what she wanted and needed. Rarely had they seen her, mostly satisfied to accept the mask that Madeline showed to the world as the truth.
Why? Madeline wondered, sadness suddenly weighing heavily on her heart. Had it simply been easier? Had they not cared enough to learn the truth? Why was it that her new mother-in-law could see her aching heart with one glance when her own family could not? Not even after years of knowing her? Or had they seen her misery but never thought it right to acknowledge it?
“Drink your tea before it’s cold, dear,” Bessy’s soft voice reminded her before resuming the melody she had hummed before.
Putting the cup to her lips, Madeline inhaled the warm scent, utterly lost as to what to do.
What was she to do?