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The day before, Elliot had arranged for the flowers to be delivered that morning, but Ophelia hadn’t mentioned them.
“You are excited, then?” Ophelia asked Grace, urging her on.
“Very!” Grace practically bounced in her chair, unable to restrain her excitement. “It has been so long since we had a proper piano.”
“You have done well with the small one we bought in the meantime,” Elliot said, though his eyes were not on Grace for very long. He kept looking at his wife, hoping she would glance at him, but if he wasn’t mistaken, Ophelia was making a special effort not to look at him at all.
In fact, she spent more time staring down at her plate. The jewellery that glinted in her ears and her light brown hair all shone in the candlelight, her eyes downturned and looking away from him.
“Yes, but it is not the same,” Grace insisted. “Now, I shall have a proper piano. With no broken string, too.”
“That string did rather make some of the pieces a little difficult, I imagine.” Ophelia laughed with the words.
“Very difficult!” Grace agreed, laughing with her. “My playing was quite transformed by it. When do you think the piano will be here, Elliot?”
“Tomorrow,” he answered simply. Still, Ophelia would not look at him. Finding himself uninterested in food, he pushed the plate away and sat back in his chair, staring at his wife and waiting for her to look at him. “Ophelia, you have still not said what you would like to buy yourself. Is there anything you wish for?”
“Grace and I have looked today at some new furniture for the house,” she said, glancing at him briefly. That glance was a far cry from the heated looks they had given each other two nights before. Elliot had to practically hold himself back from the growl that wanted to emit from him. Had Grace not been there, he would have gladly taken Ophelia’s hand, pleaded with her to look at him, then reminded her of what they had shared.
“Yes, but is there anything for yourself in particular that you wish for?” Elliot asked, trying to get to the bottom of this matter. Ophelia merely shrugged, clearly not bothered by such personal purchases.
She is very different from other women I know.
He compared her to Celeste with her multitude of gifts lined up on the table. He could remember even when he had told Celeste of his money worries, she had still attempted to extract gifts from him. Not Ophelia, though; she was different.
“She likes your library, Elliot,” Grace babbled, her happy manner plain.
“The library is rather sparse at the moment.” Elliot thought of all the books he had sold over the last few months. He could certainly make an effort to replenish some of it. “Are there any books in particular you wish for?”
“I am still reading a book. Thank you.” Ophelia smiled before looking down at her plate again. Elliot slumped, feeling deflated. His efforts to make his wife happy were getting him nowhere. He was tempted to ask outright what she thought of the flowers he’d had sent to her room, but something held him back. If she wasn’t going to refer to them at all, why should he? Why have his kind gesture acknowledged and rebuffed in front of his sister? He didn’t think his pride could handle that.
“I should like to see more books in the library, Elliot.” Grace tittered, sipping eagerly from her wine glass.
“I’m sure you would.” Elliot tried to hold back his smile at his sister’s excitement. Their lack of funds had clearly drained her, and now the money was there again, apparently, she couldn’t spend it fast enough.
“We could have some new music books?” Grace suggested, shifting in her seat and looking between Elliot and Ophelia. It was then Elliot noticed his sister watching Ophelia rather avidly, before modelling her posture on her sister-in-law’s. Elliot didn’t hold back his smile this time. Grace had acted so young for so long. There was something quite admirable in her watching her aspire to be like Ophelia, her senior in years and elegance.
“Perhaps we could,” Elliot said, nodding. “After dinner, maybe you could show us one of the pieces you have been working on?”
“I would like that.”
A few minutes later, finished with their dinner, Grace hurried to the piano in the music room and Elliot followed. He offered his arm to Ophelia, but she didn’t seem to notice and crossed ahead of him. The rejection burned in his gut as he trailed behind her.
As Grace began to play, Elliot sat beside his wife, determined not to increase this strange distance between them that seemed to have grown out of nowhere. It was a far cry to the intimacy with which their bodies had been wrapped together before. The sweet notes of Haydn’sThe Seasonsfilled the air. Under the cover of that music, Elliot leaned toward his wife.
“Is all well, Ophelia?”
“Yes, perfectly,” she said, glancing at him. Her smile was brief before it fell from her lips.
“Did you get the…?” He trailed off, for she didn’t look at him again. She seemed quite entranced listening to Grace’s playing. “Ophelia?”
“Yes? I’m sorry, I was just thinking of your sister’s playing. It is quite stunning.” She sat forward in the chair. “I think she would benefit from a tutor, though.”
“Yes, I agree. Perhaps we can arrange one.”
Ophelia nodded and looked to Grace again. In the quiet that extended between them, Elliot sighed. His efforts to woo his wife seemed to be falling at the first hurdle. As they sat back, listening to Grace play, Elliot tried to consider all that had happened from Ophelia’s point of view.
She had perhaps rushed into a marriage to escape Lord Chester and her stepmother. After they had made love, perhaps she had realised what exactly a marriage meant. Elliot felt the guilt sway within him. If he was going to persuade Ophelia that he truly did care for her, then he would give her time to adjust. Tonight, he would not visit her in her chamber.
