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Chapter Sixteen
Play out theplay.
—Shakespeare,Henry IV
Sadie had donewonders with Catherine’s hair. It was piled in large curls and held snuggly by a crown of pearls, but a few strategic strands fell, softening the angles of her cheeks. She peered closely, then sat back with a sigh. Her nose was too sharp, her bones too dominant. She touched her lips. They stood in stark contrast to the angularity of her face. Nicholas had used to call them lush. When he’d loved them. When he’d loved her. She shook her head to dislodge that thought and scowled at herself. They were duck lips.
“Quack!” She leaned toward the mirror. “Quack!”
“My lady?”
Sadie looked so perplexed, and the urge to laugh bubbled unexpectedly. Catherine fought it. If she began to laugh, she just might never stop. Then it would be off to Bedlam for her.
Instead, she focused on the gown the girl held. “That is lovely.” It was the color of fresh grass, veiled with sheer beige.
“Yes, my lady. Your hair will be stunning against it.”
“I’m afraid I can’t wear it, Sadie.” The maid’s face fell, but it was of no account. Catherine had to leave her disappointed. “I must honor Daniel this evening. This is a house still in mourning. Please get my gray bombazine.”
Sadie sighed her regret, carefully draped the dress over the large, stuffed chair by the fireplace, and disappeared back into the dressing room. Catherine rose and walked across the room. She lifted the skirt and ran her fingers over the satiny fabric, the candlelight shimmering on the green beneath the gauze. Sophia had a wonderful eye for color and cloth. Catherine would never have chosen something so rich, so soft. Her friend had argued for every piece in Catherine’s trousseau. Only one item had been worn so far. She tucked away that memory. It was too sad to contemplate.
Despite the long week spent wandering the estate, and the endless lonely nights waiting for a knock that never came, she tried to hold fast to the memory of her wedding night. Nicholas was not a shallow man. He could not make love to her and feel nothing. Surely more than desire simmered beneath his cool exterior. But even that was a starting place she would welcome. Someday she would breach the barricade. She clung to that thought for courage. With a room full of people waiting below, she needed all the fortitude she could find.
She spritzed her neck, sniffing at the sweet, floral scent infusing the air. Sadie stepped out of the dressing room with the drab gown held high. Catherine stepped into it, shifting to allow Sadie access to the long row of buttons at the back.
When Sadie was finished, she tucked a cream fichu around Catherine’s neckline, completing the somber look. “Oh, my lady, I so wish you would wear the green, but you are stunning nonetheless. Ever so elegant.”
Catherine smiled at the kind words and glanced in the mirror. “Quack,” she mouthed before following Sadie to the door.
Sadie stood in the doorway, waving when Catherine hesitated at the top of the stairs. She envisioned going back, grabbing the girl, and dragging her down the stairs. A champion by her side would be nice. Instead, she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and descended the steps. Conversation hummed from the drawing room. She should have been there to greet the guests, but she feared she could not pull off the pretense of a happy newlywed. Dinner, at least, would provide a distraction.
She stood at the base of the stairs, feeling disoriented, the cold marble seeping through her slippers. Laughter burst from the room, light spilling out in invitation, but she could not bring herself to move toward it. Nicholas had not talked to her for a full week. He left before she arose and returned long after she had gone to bed. His father had not emerged from his rooms. Stratton Hall might be odd, with its assortment of animals staring from the walls, its halls dark and cold, but it was filled with life. With love.
“My lady.” Fredericks greeted her quietly. “There are many who have asked for you.”
He stood rigid and proper, with his shoulders hunched only slightly from age, and that shock of white hair that was Fredericks. He was such a mainstay. His eyes exuded considerable warmth and caring. Shades of Stratton Hall. Tears prickled.
“Hush, girl,” he said softly. “They have come to support you. To celebrate you both.”
He scooped her elbow gently and steered her toward the room. “Child, I have watched you your whole life. You have a stiffer backbone than many a man. Don’t shy away now. You have earned this moment. Go in there and take hold of your life.”
Fredericks squeezed her arm and then stepped through the doorway and announced her arrival. Her chest tightened as talking ceased and everyone looked her way. Oh, she could not do this. She began to turn.
“Catherine!” Sophia pulled Catherine into a warm embrace, and the binding around her chest loosened a little.
“I was so happy to hear of your nuptials. Oh, that is an outright lie. I have been over the moon. It’s as ifmydreams of love have come true!” Sophia gushed loudly, then grabbed Catherine firmly by the shoulders and held her away, Sophia’s lovely dark eyes piercing but her smile unchanged. “Truly, I’d begun to think I’d be helping you pick out widow weeds with the man away so long at war. Instead, you get your fairy-tale ending.” She sighed dramatically. “I concede that true love conquers all!”
Sophia released Catherine and looked at the gathering. “I must confess, I am green with envy.” Light laughter rippled around the room, and the murmur of conversation renewed.
Catherine kept her smile in place, but her head was spinning. She had deliberately excluded Sophia from the guest list. Catherine had not seen Sophia since Daniel’s death, nor had Catherine spent the effort to make the long ride to Sophia’s estate. The betrothal was behind Catherine, and it seemed some things were best left unsaid. Aside from Catherine’s guilt about keeping secrets, she had not wanted Sophia to be a part of this parody. Sophia was always straightforward and despised facades. Catherine didn’t want her friend to see her for the fraud she now was, pretending this was the marriage of her dreams. Nicholas’s disappointment in her was enough to bear without shouldering Sophia’s too. Yet here Sophia was, and Catherine found herself grateful for it. She just might get through this evening after all.
“Thank you for coming. You cannot know how much it means.” She clasped Sophia’s hands and squeezed.
Sophia’s back now to the room, her expression sobered. “Che cosa, il mia amica?” she murmured.
Catherine’s sight glazed with the threat of tears.My friend.Oh, how those words made her weak. She needed a friend, and she had one in Sophia. Solid and true, unfettered by doubt.
“Nothing. We’ll talk later. Just, please, stay by my side and keep the attention on you.” As she was bolstered, the tears receded, and her back stiffened with new strength.
