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Chapter23
Two nights had passed since I dismissed the maid and fled from James in the corridor, and those two nights had crawled by in excruciating slowness. I had taken to avoiding the family as best I could during the day, but darkness brought about the fears that still clung to me in the wake of finishing the gothic novel.
Last night I was nearly certain James had come to the adjoining door and stood for a moment watching me, perhaps to ascertain why I had ignored his earlier knocking. I’d quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.
Unfair as it might be, it felt like he’d made this choice for me when he convinced me to dance with him at the Huttons’ ball. That he’d determined my future, and my bitter feelings toward him were thick and difficult to navigate. I did not wish to hold him in contempt, but I couldn’t help but wonder why he had persisted in marrying me when I was wholly unsuitable to the role of Chelton’s mistress.
But now, on the third night since the incident, I paced my floor, light from the candles on the mantel casting a glow about and causing me to startle on more than one occasion. My body was exhausted, but my mind was alert, and it would not slow no matter what I did.
The worst part of all, though, was that this was the third night that I did not allow James into my room to share our daily fact. In my anger I had ignored his knocking, mad at him, but also with myself.
I reached up and drew my finger along the dried, white rose hanging from my bed. More than anything, I missed him.
My eyes were sandy from the two previous nights of little sleep, and my body achy. I stared at our adjoining door and inhaled a deep breath. If I did not humble myself before James now, would I ever be able to? Would this discord between us build and grow until it became insurmountable? It was not his fault his mother did not accept me. Her displeasure did not make me any less the mistress of this house.
Perhaps that was where I had erred all along. An idea formed on shaky legs, and I grasped the bedpost as I considered it. The concept bloomed within me, taking root and growing tall. Instead of yielding to each and every thing my mother-in-law required of me in my desperation for her approval, from the excess of white roses on my gown to the menu to the timeline I needed to follow in order to dismiss a maid, I needed to govern my own choices.
If Lady Edith no longer wished to teach me, that was her choice. But her lack of instruction had caused me to retreat in every way, including my power and command in this house. As James’s wife, my word trumped hers, but her manipulation had forced me to give her the power I rightfully held.
Tomorrow, I intended to take it back.
Tonight, I would mend the discord in my marriage.
I lifted up on tiptoe and blew out the candles, then ran my fingers through my long hair and braided it into a semblance of order. My bare feet were cold, and I crossed the room before I could lose the gumption to approach James after two days of silence.
The door was hard and cold under my curled fist, and I knocked softly, waiting for James to invite me in. He was most likely awake still—I had heard him in there just a quarter hour earlier.
The quiet seemed to stretch endlessly before the door opened, and I looked up into my husband’s enigmatic eyes. Regret curled in my chest, and I briefly wished I hadn’t knocked at all. It had been a mistake to think he would welcome me, and I stepped back.
“Wait,” he said. “Are you frightened?”
Frightened of ruining the relationship that we’d hardly had time to cultivate? Yes. Frightened of the dark? A little.
But I hadn’t come to his door because of fear.
I settled on a half-truth. “Yes.”
He stepped back and opened his door widely, then gestured to his bed. “You are always welcome here, Felicity. I hoped I had made myself clear in that regard.”
“You did. I was only hoping to avoid becoming a burden.”
His mouth ticked into a brief smile, though his eyes remained sad. “You cannot become a burden. Surely you must know that well enough by now.”
History had proven just the opposite. My parents were burdened by my troubles, so my husband could feel the same. “I know nothing of the sort.”
A chill ran over my skin, and I folded my arms across my waist.
“Come, you’re cold.” James took my hand and pulled me toward him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned my head against his solid chest, feeling his heart beat into my ear. He was warm and comfortable, his sleeping shirt soft and smelling of him in a way that soothed me to my core.
I found myself leaning against him more, and a yawn breathed from me.
“Tired?”
“Quite. I haven’t slept well the last few nights.”
“Neither have I.” James pressed a kiss to the top of my head and released me. He took my hand and tugged me to the bed and helped me lie down, pulling the blankets up to my chin. I noticed that he’d left the adjoining door open, and I liked that about him—as though he wanted me to remember that I was always welcome.
James climbed into bed beside me and blew out the candle on his table, making the darkness complete. I heard nothing beyond the groans of the old house and the whistle of a light wind outside.
