I nodded. “Then let’s look into ordering some plum trees. Would you walk in the back garden with me so we can decide where we will start?”
Julia stood. Now that trees had been mentioned, her eyes showed a bright spark of interest. “I’ll bring my sketch pad, and we can write down our ideas.”
W
Chapter 18
“I might never be a master at repairing thatch, but I’ve learned to be a good assistant. When the Mortensens’ roof was finally finished, I sat back in wonder at what my hands could do.”
—David Tate, 1847, Age 20
Over the next few days, David and I established a routine. He would work most of the day in his study or ride out to see some of the tenants, and I would only see him at dinner or on the occasions where he came out to see the progress Julia and I had made on the orchard.
After dinner, he would spend time with Mama, Julia, and me in the drawing room, and it was there he would be the most affectionate. Not always physically, but his words were laced with an endearing quality that charmed me throughout the evening until he walked me to my bedchamber when it was time to retire.
Outside my door, he would offer the most formal of good nights, and even on the days where he’d plant a kiss on the top of my head in front of Mama, he did no more than offer me a short bow at night. The small part of me that was led to hope in the drawing room died night after night outside my door.
This evening, after we finished dinner, instead of leading me to my room, he asked me to join him in his study. I nodded andfollowed him into the room I saw him enter and exit multiple times a day but that I’d never seen inside.
The study was lined with deep wood, and an ornate desk sat near the window. Papers were spread about the top of it, and a few books and an inkwell filled the rest of the space. He took my hand, strode over to his desk, and bade me sit.
He pulled out a sheet of paper and placed it in front of me. “I have our marriage documents all in order. It is time to write to your solicitor.”
I turned and smiled at him, and he half sat on the desk to see me better.
“Happily,” I said and started my letter.
After a moment, he pointed to what I was writing. “Don’t you think you should include some details about how dashing and kind your new husband is?”
Dashingandkindwere excellent descriptors. I put them in.
When I finished, I folded the letter and handed it to him. “You are an excellent husband. I could have written more wonderful things about you, but I didn’t want to look suspicious.”
“You should have. I would have loved to read them, and I believe brides are forgiven for doting on their new husbands.”
Time and time again, he’d proven what an extraordinary husband he would be, to me or any other woman of his choosing, and it grated on me that his father was keeping him from such happiness.
“How old were you when you decided you would never marry?” I asked.
David looked up from the letter in surprise. After my disastrous question on our marriage day, I’d avoided asking anything about the conditions of our marriage.
“I was nineteen.”
“Did your father do something terrible that day?”
David shook his head. “No, he was already living in London.”
“Then what made you decide such a thing?”
He looked me in the eye, leaned forward, and said the last thing I ever would have expected. “I’m afraid a large part of the decision at that time was vanity and pride.”
I furrowed my brows. “Really?”
He put my letter down on his desk and took both of my hands in his before lifting me from his chair. Once I was standing, he dropped his hands to his side and just stood there looking at me. “Remember, I was only nineteen, and vanity and pride were very critical reasons. I wasn’t as humble as I am now.”
“Humble?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and reaching for the letter I’d given him. “Should I add that todashingandkindin my letter?”
He pulled it away from me. “No need. Your letter is lovely as is. Besides”—he groaned softly—“it probably isn’t true. I’m afraid those two vices still have a firm grip over me, but in my case, they did serve a good purpose. After I determined to never marry, I saw the wisdom in it, and each year, my resolve grew stronger. By the time I saw you again, I no longer even questioned my reasoning. It was a good plan.”
