Eleven
After two days of being kept a virtual prisoner in his bed, Gabriel expected to be a ready candidate for Bedlam.
He was, after all, a gentleman accustomed to endless activity. Work about the estate kept him on the run from the moment he awoke until he tumbled into his bed late in the evening. If he wasn’t in the fields or meeting with his steward, then he was in his study, attempting to sort through years of neglected ledger books.
To suddenly be trapped in his chamber with nothing to occupy him but the occasional visitor was surely worse than being placed upon the rack.
But much to his surprise, he found an unexpected benefit to being an invalid.
Covertly turning his head, Gabriel regarded his wife, who was seated close to his bed as she fiercely studied a handful of fabric swatches.
Each day Beatrice had spent a portion of her time seated close beside him. Whether reading to him from the morning paper or simply sharing what progress had been made by the workmen, she had revealed a bit more about herself.
He now knew that she was well read on the latest politics and held very firm views on the plight of children and the troubles faced by soldiers returning home from the war with no jobs and few opportunities. He also discovered that she closely followed the ’Change and knew precisely the worth of the stocks that were held by her father. Perhaps more surprisingly he learned she possessed a lighthearted interest in the current gossip that filled the scandal sheets.
The charming insights into her character only made her more precious to Gabriel.
Somehow he had always suspected that a large dose of familiarity would lead to a disgust for each other. Certainly a number of his married friends had warned him of just such a disaster. But as he was allowed to glimpse deeper into Beatrice’s thoughts and feelings, he found himself eager to discover more.
She was a fascinating mixture of practical common sense and soft-hearted liberalism. She could be fiery in defense of the helpless and impishly amusing when recalling stories of her days among the ton.
She was also deeply lonely.
As lonely as himself.
The knowledge made him more determined than ever to reach out and forge a bond between them.
They clearly needed each other.
If only he could prove to her that he was worthy of her trust.
Easier said than done, he acknowledged with an inward sigh.
His gaze ran a restless path over the pale features that had become so endearingly familiar. Then a faint smile tugged at his lips as he noted how she frowned over the bits of fabric.
“So serious, my dear?” he softly broke into her dark thoughts.
Lifting her head, she held out the samples for his inspection.
“I cannot determine which color most closely resembles the draperies in the library. What is your opinion?”
Gabriel glanced over the offered fabrics with a lift of his brows.
“Good gads, they all look the same.”
“Of course they do not,” she protested. “This is a much darker shade, while this one possesses a hint of plum.”
He laughed as he shook his head. “I shall have to take your word for it.”
She heaved a sigh as she fingered a threadbare square of fabric. “I do wish the original were not so faded. It is impossible to determine the precise color.”
Gabriel settled himself more comfortably in the pillows, as always amazed by Beatrice’s obvious devotion to Falcon Park.
“Surely the color of the draperies in the library is not of such prime importance?”
“I should like it to be as close as possible.”
“You have truly taken on a tremendous task, my dear,” he said in genuine admiration.
As always, she turned a flustered pink at his words of praise. He had already determined that she was unaccustomed to having her talents admired.
“I do not mind.”
“Still, it is very generous of you,” he persisted.
“This is my home as well as yours now.”
His heart warmed at her words. Falcon Park was indeed becoming a home again. And it was all due to this woman’s inexhaustible efforts.
“Yes, but most brides would prefer to redecorate in a more modern style,” he retorted with a rueful smile. “It would be far simpler than devoting such energy to restoring the house to its previous glory.”
She shrugged aside the vast burden she had so willingly shouldered.
“I hope it will be worth the effort.”
Gabriel reached out to gently cover her hand with his own. “Have I thanked you yet for all you’ve done for Falcon Park?”
Amazingly, she managed to blush a deeper shade of red. “There is no need,” she mumbled. “I am your wife.”
“My wife.” He savored the words as if they were a fine wine. “I very much like the sound of that.”
He felt her sudden tremor even as she battled to maintain an air of cool control.
“You are being absurd.”
“No, I am not.” He captured her gaze with his own. “As I said, I never thought I would have a family. I am finding that I enjoy being a part of one with you. It is very comforting to know you will be here when I awaken in the morning, to think of you strolling in the garden, or to catch the scent of honeysuckle when I enter the room. It gives me a sense of belonging here that I have not felt since my mother died.”
The amber eyes abruptly darkened. “Oh.”
Gabriel glanced down to where his larger hand covered her fingers. “I only wish that you felt more comfortable here.”
“I—it has only been a few months since I arrived. And with the workmen—”
“Perhaps I should say that I wish you felt more comfortable with me,” he softly interrupted her stumbling words. “Do you recall the first evening we met?”
There was a faint pause before she gave a nod of her head. “Of course.”
“I had been introduced to what seemed like a hundred maidens since arriving in London, but the moment I was in your company, I realized that you were the only woman who I felt as if I had known my entire life.”
She regarded him with obvious disbelief. “I find that difficult to believe. I was so nervous, I chattered like the veriest nitwit.”
Gabriel gave a low chuckle as he recalled their brief encounter. At the time he had known nothing about her beyond the fact that she possessed a large fortune and was reputed to be decidedly eccentric.
He had prepared himself for yet another shallow miss who had been sternly tutored in the proper behavior for a debutant. No matter what the rumors of Beatrice’s odd manners, he refused to hope she would dare to be anything but tediously proper.
It had been a refreshing treat when she had boldly spoken her mind without apology and without artifice. He had been instantly intrigued by the unconventional maiden.
“You were charming,” he said in firm tones, a reminiscent smile playing about his mouth. “And you certainly did not chatter.”
“Yes, I did,” she perversely argued. “I told you of my dislike of London, of my grandfather, of my inventions. I think I even told you that my shoes were pinching my toes.”
He shrugged, his fingers unconsciously stroking the back of her hand and delicate curve of her wrist.
“That was far preferable to the stiff conversations of the weather or latest fashions I endured. There were even some maidens who managed no more than a number of nerve-shattering giggles. You cannot conceive my relief to discover a woman who could share a sensible conversation. I even recall that you wore a pale green gown with satin ivory roses.”
She abruptly ducked her head, although she did not attempt to pull free from his light caress.
“I fear that was my mother’s notion of a suitable gown for a debutant. I attempted to warn her that I looked unfortunately like an underripe apple, but she would not heed my warnings.”
With an impatient click of his tongue, Gabriel reached up to cup her chin and forced her to meet his narrowed gaze.
“Why do you say such things of yourself?” he demanded.
She appeared startled by his disapproving tone. “It is habit, I suppose.”
“I will not have it in my presence,” he informed her sternly. “The only one who finds you wanting in any fashion is yourself.”
There was a stark silence before he heard her heave a faint sigh.
“It is not always comfortable to be considered different by others.”
Gabriel was not to be swayed. Certainly he could sympathize with desiring the approval of others. He had lived through a similar battle with his own father. But he would not allow her to belittle her worth.
“Surely your grandfather did not apologize for being different?”
She gave a reluctant smile. “Goodness, no. He did not give a fig for others’ opinions.”
“A wise man. You should follow his example. You are Beatrice, Countess of Faulconer. Hold your head proudly and know that those who truly care about you desire you to remain precisely as you are.”
Their gazes locked for a long while as Gabriel silently willed his stubborn wife to realize just how wonderful she truly was.
“I shall try,” she at last conceded. “Now I must go. You need your rest.”
Gabriel grasped her fingers, which had thankfully healed over the past two days. He had no desire to have their time together come to an end.
“Gads, all I have done is rest. I am bored senseless.”
“I know that the vicar spent the entire morning playing chess with you,” she chided with a teasing frown. “Not to mention the fact that the servants have transferred the entire contents of the library to your chamber as well as newspapers and your estate ledgers. How could you possibly be bored?”
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I do not wish to read.”
“Would you prefer that I send Aunt Sarah to bear you company?”
He greeted her sweet words with a jaundiced frown. “I suppose you are attempting to be humorous? I would as soon desire the return of that devilish doctor to gouge me.”
“I could send the carriage to fetch him.”
He abruptly lifted her hand to press it to his lips. “What I want is for you to remain.”
She trembled at his touch, but with an annoying determination she rose to her feet and pulled her hand free.
“I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Gabriel.”
He sighed at the stubborn line of her jaw. He knew that expression all too well.
“You will at least return later?”
“Yes.” With an uncertain smile she gathered her samples of fabric and hurried from the room.
Left on his own, Gabriel shook his head slowly.
He felt so close to reaching Beatrice. As if any moment she would smile and welcome him back into her heart.
And then, without warning, she would retreat behind her wary distrust.
Would he ever have the wife he so desperately desired?
* * *
Although Beatrice had fled from Gabriel’s chambers with every intention of devoting the afternoon to the various tenants she had been sadly neglecting, she discovered herself instead standing at the window of her office.
It was not that she was particularly fascinated by Chalfrey’s shrill protests as the workmen laid the new paths for the rose garden, or even the glorious sunset that bathed the countryside in a rosy hue.
Instead, she pondered the strange and complex emotions that battled within her heart.
How was a mere woman to know what she was feeling?
On one hand, she had been forced to concede that she still cared for Gabriel. The pain and desperation she had experienced when he had been injured could not be denied. And too, over the past two days they had shared moments that were as wonderful and precious as the days of their brief courtship. And yet he was still the same gentleman who had deliberately wed her for her fortune.
Could she simply forgive and forget what he had done?
Did she want to?
It was that question that kept her standing at the window long after the workmen had retired from their duties and dinner had been served.
She hoped that by searching her heart she would eventually discover the truth that had evaded her for so long.
“So deep in thought, Beatrice?”
Startled by the sudden interruption, Beatrice turned about to regard Vicar Humbly as he strolled into the room. She experienced a pang of guilt as she realized that she had condemned the poor gentleman to the mercy of Aunt Sarah. Hardly sporting of her.
“Mr. Humbly.” She managed a distracted smile. “I did not hear you enter.”
He tilted his head to one side. “No, you were glaring fiercely out the window. What dark thoughts have brought such a scowl to your pretty countenance?”
Disconcerted by the older man’s piercing scrutiny, Beatrice shifted uneasily.
“No dark thoughts at all. I was simply contemplating one of the inventions I recently viewed.”
“Oh? Which invention?” he swiftly demanded.
“What?”
“I asked which invention.”
“I . . .”
His lips twitched as she struggled to invent a suitable lie. “You were thinking of Gabriel, were you not?”
Realizing that she had been easily outwitted, Beatrice heaved a sigh.
“Yes.”
Humbly moved close enough to grasp her hands in his own. “Has his condition worsened?”
“No,” Beatrice was swift to reassure him. “The doctor says that he may leave his bed tomorrow.”
“But surely that is wonderful news?”
“Oh, yes, quite wonderful.”
The vicar studied her tense features. “So why do you frown?”
Unable to dissemble beneath that steady gaze, she gave a sad smile.
“Marriage is a very complicated business.”
He gave her hands a soft squeeze. “All relationships are complicated, my dear. Please, will you sit with me a moment?”
“Very well,” she agreed, allowing herself to be led to the small sofa set beside the carved marble chimneypiece.
Waiting until they were both settled upon the crimson damask sofa, Humbly offered her a kindly smile.
“Do you know, when I was merely a young lad I used to love to go fishing.”
Beatrice gave a startled blink at his odd words. “I suppose all boys love to go fishing.”
“Yes.” A reminiscent expression settled upon his round countenance. “There was a small river quite near our house, and during the afternoon I would spend hours frightening the fish away. Unfortunately, I also ended every afternoon at the bottom of the river.”
Presuming the tenderhearted gentleman was attempting to distract her troubled thoughts, Beatrice forced a stiff smile to her lips.
“You were so clumsy?”
“No. The neighborhood children thought me rather a source for jest and enjoyed tumbling me into the water.”
Beatrice gave a soft gasp. It was unthinkable that anyone could be so cruel to this sweet man.
“That is terrible.”
The older gentleman grimaced. “I certainly thought so at the time. I began searching for hidden places along the river where I would not be discovered by the others. I became very good at it.”
“They were horrid boys,” she said fiercely, all too aware of how deeply the taunts of children could hurt. She was fortunate to have had Addy and Victoria, who had always stood at her side.
“No more than most young boys,” Humbly retorted with a shrug. “They were only attempting to show off for one another.”
“Well, at least you were able to fish in peace,” she said, wondering if she could be so forgiving.
“Yes, I even had a friend who would join me now and then. Georgie Dicart. He was the youngest son of the local doctor and often at the mercy of the older boys as well.”
“So the two of you stuck together?”
There was a short pause before Humbly heaved a sigh. “We did until the day he led the other boys to my hidden place. You see, he hoped to impress them by offering me as his sacrifice.”
Beatrice instinctively reached out to grasp his hand. Her heart was deeply touched by the betrayal he must have experienced.
“Oh, no.”
“I was devastated, of course,” he admitted with a hint of sadness in his sherry eyes. “Not so much for being tossed in the water once again—after all, I was quite accustomed to dragging myself home soaked to the skin—but because my friend, the one person I trusted, had betrayed me.”
Beatrice slowly stiffened as she sensed that the vicar was not simply attempting to distract her with his childhood tale. He clearly intended to reveal that she was not the only one to have offered her trust and had it destroyed.
“Yes,” she said slowly.
“I cried at first,” he continued in low tones, “then, like most twelve-year-old boys, I began plotting my revenge. I wanted him to feel as embarrassed and hurt as I had been.”
Even knowing that Humbly had a devious intent behind his story, Beatrice could not resist discovering where the wily old man was attempting to lead her.
“What did you do?”
“I waited until we had all gathered in church on Sunday, then in the middle of the sermon I stood and accused Georgie of stealing from the poor box.”
Beatrice widened her eyes in shock. “Good heavens.”
“It was quite effective.” The vicar gave a rueful shake of his head. “The congregation fell silent and the boy’s father yanked him to his feet and beat him in the presence of the entire neighborhood. I shall never forget the look upon my friend’s face.”
Beatrice was startled in spite of herself. It was impossible to imagine this kind, generous man ever harming anyone.
“I suppose he looked as if he hated you?” she asked gently.
Humbly gave a shake of his head. “No. The look upon his countenance was one of relief. He had felt so guilty at having deceived me that he was eager to be punished. I left the church feeling like the most loathsome creature on earth.”
Beatrice’s heart squeezed with a sudden flare of pain.
There was no means to avoid the obvious connection to her and Gabriel.
Like Humbly, she had been betrayed and struck out in fury. While Gabriel had reacted just as Georgie with his readiness to accept her punishment as his just reward.
And in the end, she did feel like the most loathsome creature on earth.
She bit her bottom lip as she met his steady gaze. “You no doubt are referring to me and Gabriel.”
“I merely wish you to look into your heart, Beatrice,” he said softly. “Is punishing Gabriel making you happy?”
She gave a restless shake of her head, wishing it were all so simple.
“It is not just a matter of punishment, it is a matter of trust. Did you ever again tell Georgie where you went to go fishing?”
Humbly smiled complacently. “Of course I did. He was my friend. He made a mistake, but then again, so did I. Friends forgive one another.”
Her eyes darkened with the fear that had haunted her since her wedding day.
“And what if he betrays me again?”
His expression became unexpectedly stern. “My dear, none of us can see into the future. But surely he has proven over the past few months that he wants your happiness above all things?”
“I suppose,” she agreed warily.
“It is not wise to brood upon past wounds. In time they will poison your soul. You must look to the future now. Decide if you wish it to be filled with this brittle anger or if you would be better served to find peace with your husband.”
Beatrice gave a slow nod of her head. “I will consider your words.”
“That is all that I ask.” He reached out to lightly pat her cheek. “Good night, my dear.”
“Good night.”
The vicar struggled to his feet and slowly left Beatrice alone with her thoughts.
For many moments she pondered the vicar’s words, knowing he was only saying out loud what she had realized deep in her heart.
Gabriel was her husband.
She had promised to be at his side for the rest of her life.
Did she wish to continue this empty battle that made both of them miserable?
Or did she risk her heart once again and seek the happiness she had once hoped was hers?
Barely aware that she was moving, Beatrice rose to her feet and walked toward the door.
It was time she confronted her fears.
And the only way to do so was with the help of Gabriel.