“And how far away is it?” asked John.
“A little more than twenty miles or so. The last few times I went to the neighborhood, it took just over three hours in my chaise and four.”
“It sounds perfect,” said John. “Do you happen to know if it is vacant?”
“I am not certain, but last I heard it was,” said Darcy. “Here, let me get you the address of the agent, and you can make your own inquiries.”
Darcy scribbled down a note and handed it to John. It gave the name and address of one Mr. Phillips, a solicitor in Meryton.
John stayed at Darcy’s for a couple of hours. It was somehow comforting to simply chat about nothing with two other men who both shared the same sorrow. They didn’t talk about his late father. His death was too recent and the pain too raw. Even so, when John left his cousin’s home, he felt much better than he had when he arrived.
He walked the three blocks home and arrived just in time to change for dinner.
Not three minutes into the meal, Natalie asked, “So, when will we be moving into our new home?”
John stared at his wife. He should have expected this after her last comment, but he did not. He replied, “I hope you have not said anything about that to my mother?”
“Of course not,” said Natalie. “I have the greatest respect for the dowager Countess.”
John thought that calling her by her new title so soon indicated otherwise, but he did not say so. Instead, he said as firmly and as forcefully as he could, “We will give my mother three months to find another home. In the meantime, you will not say a single word on the subject or even hint that you might have the tiniest bit of impatience. Do you understand me?”
“But…” said Natalie.
He interrupted. “My mother just lost her husband of thirty-three years. I refuse to toss her from the home they shared for that same length of time or in any way make her feel unwelcome there. We will give her three months. In the meantime, you will say absolutely nothing on the subject, either to me or to her.”
Natalie stared at him. Her mind was clearly struggling to find a way around his command so that she could object or wiggle out of his strictures. In the end, she must have failed, for she said sourly, “As you wish, husband.”
They said nothing else until the second course was served, when she began discussing the various wardrobe changes she would be making so she could appear to be in mourning for the late earl.
This discussion made John almost as queasy as discussing his mother or his inheritance of the title of Earl, because it was clear Natalie had absolutely no feeling of mourning whatsoever. She was merely using it as an excuse to buy new gowns and accessories. She was actually looking forward to the process and was quite animated in her descriptions.
He let her talk, however. At least that way, he wouldn’t have to respond, for Natalie could talk about clothing and shopping for at least an hour unaided.
As she spoke, John let his mind wander. Mostly, he began to wonder what he had ever seen in the lady he was now shackled to in this life.
He had loved her once. When they first met, five years ago, he had thought she was the prettiest, most intelligent, most capable young lady he had ever met. He was captivated by her wit, her smiles, and he must admit, by her beauty.
Three months after meeting her, he proposed, and she seemed quite happy with him. He counted himself the luckiest man alive to have married for love rather than wealth or status.
His love for her lasted several months into their marriage, but as time passed he began to sense a distance between them that never seemed to diminish. He had assumed that after marriage, they would become gradually closer, but if anything they had gradually grown further apart.
Any time they were together, even in her bedroom, she used her company manners and her pleasant smile. He began to wonder what was behind them.
Then, when he found out what was truly behind them, he fell out of love almost as quickly as he had fallen into it. Her intelligence and wit, which he had always admired, gradually turned towards her true hobby of noticing everything that was wrong with everyone and cleverly and casually ripping their entire ego to shreds with a few well-placed words.
At first, she seldom turned her sharp eyes or tongue on him. Even now, she didn’t do it nearly as often as she could have. Natalie seemed to have some lingering respect for him as herhusband. Or, what was more likely, she realized that he held the ultimate power over her comfort.
Even so, the more he heard her criticize others, the more his love for her died. It didn’t take long for his affection to completely fade, and it took even less time for his respect to follow. He recognized that she was still an excellent hostess and that she was still a very much sought after guest among theton. From most people’s perspective, her behavior, even her witty but sharp criticisms, were merely evidence that she was a perfectly proper Lady.
In John’s more self-critical moments, he supposed she probably was an excellent example of a Lady of her station. It was he who didn’t fit. He was the one who felt no need to play the games of power so often played among his peers. He was the one who had no interest in status or self-aggrandizement.
Eventually, the interminable dinner was over. Natalie retreated to her room, and John retreated to his study for a glass of brandy.
As he sipped it and stared at the walls, he couldn’t help but wish he was sipping the much harsher gin that he tended to drink in his club. Somehow, though, even he couldn’t see a cheap bottle of gin fitting in properly among the expensive wood paneling, the bookshelf full of expensive books, and the heavy but delicately carved and very expensive desk.
So, he sipped at the expensive brandy that was a total waste of money and tried to forget everything that had happened that day.
~~~~~
