Page 52 of An Accidental Elopement

“All I can do here is... ask my mother for a piece of jewelry to give her, have the head gardener give me flowers from the hothouse, and have Cook bake her something...” Archie’s voice trailed off and his gaze met the almost menacing one of his grandfathers on the opposite wall. Archie imagined how he tipped his head in a mocking gesture to indicate that he had certainly never had problems of this kind.

His musings regarding his grandfather meant that it took him a moment to realize that Rosie had not answered straight away. When he turned to look at her, she was studying him with an open-mouthed expression.

“I am not certain you have any idea who you married,” she told him in a low, almost ominous voice, as she narrowed her eyes. This did not bode well and if it had not been for his need to be reconciled with Cecilia, he would not have tolerated such antics. As it was, he waited almost anxiously for her to go on. “Let me tell you this: I was truly happy to learn that you had married. Despite always being surrounded by people, I have always had the idea that you might be lonely. I thought – I hoped – that you had found someone who understood and complemented you. And having met Cecilia, I was certain that you had.” She paused but Archie felt no need to confirm or deny her theories, which was probably why she went on. “Of course, I always imagined you would find some larger-than-life fiery redhead that you had to chase down and who you were constantly fighting, but where you knew that those fights would always be resolved in the bedroom.”

Archie sent her a sideways look. Besides the oddly specific hair color, he was usually attracted to more outspoken women and as such had imagined that if he married, he would end up with someone like that. Feisty and opinionated where their arguments would lead to an explosion of passion in the bedroom. Not someone gentle and self-doubting as Cecilia.

An image of how he had rested his head on her bosom after they had made love and she had gently been combing her fingers through his hair appeared. At the time he had simply enjoyed the sated feeling and their light, drowsy conversation, but he realized that the fiery redhead Rosie spoke of, the woman he had imagined, would probably not take the time to do so for long. But that as much as the physical intimacy was what he missed.

“Cecilia is not one to scream at me,” he told her.

“No, I sense that. I am glad that you at least recognize that as well. What I don’t understand is why you have not set your plan into motion?”

“Which plan?”

“The one with your mother’s jewelry, the flowers from the hothouse, and having Cook bake something for her.” Rosie held up a hand when Archie was about to protest that it was an absurd idea. “I repeat: Do you have any idea who you married? The fiery redhead would not have given you the time of day if you gave her one of your mother’s jewelries, but I guarantee you that Cecilia will at least listen to you.”

Archie studied her for a moment. He was only used to apologizing to fiery and passionate women. Women who wore their feelings as clothes and had no problem shouting about them in public. Cecilia was the complete opposite. Not that she was not passionate, but she was only in private. She would never scream at him in public; even when she was the most upset, she was able to control her emotions. He had seen so that day at the inn. Rosie might be right, that the ways he was used to apologizing would not have worked on Cecilia, or not nearly as effective as the alternative that he had only come up with out of necessity.

“I suppose you are not going to tell me what the problem is?” Rosie interrupted his thought.

“No,” Archie bit out and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Would simply agreeing with her to make up with her be so horrible?”

“I have no idea what she wants,” Archie stated without thinking.

“I cannot believe you!” Rosie exclaimed, taking a step back from him and facing him. “Are you wallowing in your own problems because you could not be bothered asking your wife her opinion?”

Archie clenched his jaws for a moment.

“I have been trying to ask her opinion for the past two days,” he grumbled.

“Fine, follow my advice and then she might – I repeat might – speak to you. Since you will not tell me what you have done, I have no way of discerning whether you should do more. Or she should in fact let you wallow in misery for a few more days – or weeks. And now I will consider my wisdom shared and go spend time with more intelligent people – my children.”

With that, Rosie strode out of the gallery.

Twenty-Five

Cecilia’s fingers, toes and nose were freezing. She pulled the shawl tighter around her head and stuck her hands into her armpits. The November wind felt as if it swept through her. She strode forward, aiming for the lake house by the lake; she had to be able to seek shelter there for a couple of hours at least, before having to retire to her room again.

The wood of the door seemed to have expanded due to the damp weather and she had to put her shoulder to it to be able to enter. When she was finally inside, she was not able to close it properly. Cecilia found a chair and dragged it in front of the door to keep it closed.

The room was large and light despite the gray weather outside. She could easily see how it would be a pleasant space to relax and spend time together in the summer. Archie had told her how his family and the Winterbottoms would meet each summer in either of their estates. She could imagine how the adults would be relaxing inside while the children would be playing all around. The oldest teaching the youngest to sail with ships or fish in the lake. Archie would probably be teasing his nieces and nephews while enjoying their undivided attention.

Cecilia sighed audibly. If they were not able to resolve the matters between them, she could not envision participating in such a gathering. Next spring Archie’s child would be born, and the small child would be given away without either of its parents wanting it. Cecilia sat down on a lounger by the window, then spotted a chest of drawers that might contain blankets or pillows. She opened it and was happy to discover both inside. She made a nest on the lounger and lay down, crossing her arms as she once again thought of the unborn child.

She could not blame the actress for not wanting to take care of a child. Both she and the child would bear the stigma of the child being born out of wedlock, and besides Lavinia did not exactly seem as if she was in a place where she wanted a child. If she was the type of woman that ever would.

No, her qualms were not with the actress. They were with Archie. For some reason, his actions towards her had led her to believe that he cared for others besides himself. Which frankly had made her hope that he was able to care for her as well. At least as a friend. Or something of the sort.

But he seemed even more indifferent towards the child despite being its father. Which could only make her wonder whether he would be just as indifferent if he fathered a child with her. Even if that seemed unlikely.

Cecilia closed her eyes and sighed again. Her thoughts were a mess she could not make sense of. The only thing she knew was that she wanted something from Archie that he seemed unable to give her and she was too embarrassed to admit it and too tired to have the conversation with him. Which was why she kept postponing it when he asked to speak to her. She needed to know what she felt about the situation. Exactly how much she felt comfortable to demand from him before they spoke together. She recognized that they needed to have the conversation soon. Being separated from him was eating at her, but until she knew her mind, it made little sense to discuss the matter.

The chair scraped over the floor and Cecilia sat up startled. The light had changed, and she realized that she must have fallen asleep. It explained the coldness and soreness in her body and her confused state.

She squinted her eyes at the door and saw her mother-in-law enter along with an elegantly dressed lady, that Cecilia recognized as Lady Lindley. Edwina’s mother.