Oh, no
. She nearly shuddered. She had heard men did that sort of thing, especially a husband who was well within his rights to do what he pleased with his wife.
Oh, dear God
. Despite her admonitions to herself to remain stoic no matter what, she stiffened and pressed herself away from him against the squabs.
He immediately slid away, back to his own side of the seat. Had he sensed her revulsion? She hoped not. So far, the man had been nothing but kindness, and she certainly did not want to hurt or insult him in any way.
But how can I endure it if he comes to my bed tonight?
As the coach rolled to a stop in front of the marbled portico, Flora saw a group of servants awaiting, including Baker, her sharp-nosed lady's maid, who had traveled ahead in a separate coach loaded with Flora's clothes, jewels and furbelows. Flora immediately noticed there was something different about the servants. Not Baker, of course, who stood on the steps with the others, as usual her face unsmiling, unreadable as a stone. But the rest of the servants presented a far different picture from that which Flora was accustomed to. They were not lined up in rigid order as they would be at Sweffham Park. Instead, they seemed to be milling about in no order at all. Most were smiling, appearing quite at ease. And their uniforms
! Flora reflected how horrified her mother would be if she saw what this straggly group of servants was wearing. At least the housekeeper looked like a housekeeper with her dull brown dress and dangling set of keys, but the rest? Where was the butler? Not one man there was dressed in formal attire. Were those the maids, dressed in an assortment of caps, gowns and aprons, not one of which matched? Were those the footmen who, like the maids, seemed to wear what they pleased instead of matching, elaborate livery?
As she stepped from the coach, a tall, dignified white-haired man, dressed in simple attire, stepped forward to assist. "Welcome to Pemberly Manor, Lady Dinsmore, I am Gillis, the butler." His deep gray eyes warm and welcoming, he handed her from the coach with gracious ease. Flora liked him at once, even though he was not dressed properly.
The thin, angular woman who she had guessed was the housekeeper also stepped forward. "I am Mrs. Wendt, your ladyship, the housekeeper." In contrast to the butler, there was a cold look in her eye that was definitely not warm and welcoming.
Smiling, Lord Dinsmore stepped from the carriage. "Well, Gillis, are you surprised?"
The butler, who appeared to be around the same age as Lord Dinsmore, nodded pleasantly. "Very much surprised, sir, as well as delighted, and may I say what a pleasure it is to see you smiling again?"
"High time, eh, Gillis?" Dinsmore took Flora's arm and faced the group of servants. "Introductions are in order here. Let me begin with our cook, Mrs. Bannister..."
To Flora's amazement her new husband introduced all the servants by name, down to the youngest stable boy and scullery maid. So different from home, where the lower servants would not even have been acknowledged, let alone mentioned by name. Come to think of it, she doubted her parents even knew the names of all their servants, whereas Lord Dinsmore seemed familiar with each and every one.
"Shall we go inside?" Lord Dinsmore asked when the introductions were done.
"Of course."
As Flora
turned and viewed the grand entrance to Pemberly Manor, a sudden panic welled in her throat, but she would die before she would let it show. This was the beginning of her new life, and she would endure it, she would. Head high, taking her husband's arm, she followed him through the marble arched front entrance.
Inside, Lord Dinsmore paused in the vast entry hall. "I should imagine you're tired, as well as hungry. Gillis will take you to your room where you can refresh yourself, and then we'll eat."
"I suppose we're too late for tea," Flora ventured.
"Tea?" Dinsmore appeared momentarily perplexed. "Er...you're quite right, tea time is past."
"Then I shall see you at dinner," Flora said. Following a footman laden with luggage, she started up the stairs, noticing immediately that something appeared to be agitating her lady's maid beside her. Her back was rigid as a board. One of her nostrils twitched. "Baker, what's wrong?" Flora whispered.
The somber, ever-proper lady's maid
threw her an enraged glare. "Wait until you see your bed chamber!" she hissed.
After her maid's dire warning, Flora had no idea what to expect when they stepped into her bed chamber, but to her relief she found the room airy and bright, furnished with an empire cherrywood bed, elegant marble and walnut tables and commode. The walls were covered with a delicate mauve wallpaper. The fabric of the drapes and spread was of a lovely violet pattern.
"Baker, what on earth is wrong?" Flora asked when the footman left. Her lady's maid now appeared visibly upset. "Is this not a lovely room?"
Baker sniffed and marched to one of the marble side tables. "This is unbelievable
." With a grand sweep, she ran an index finger across the marble top and held it up. "Do you see?" she cried triumphantly. "Do you see this?" She waved her finger practically under Flora's nose.
"See what?" asked Gillis who had just entered.
"And what, pray, sir, is this?" the indignant woman asked, holding out her finger toward the butler.
Gillis carefully examined her fingertip. "I do believe that is dust," he replied with grave solemnity, yet Flora detected a slight gleam of amusement in his eye.
"Dust!" Baker exclaimed, her whole body quivering with indignation. "This room is in a ruinous state of disorder and I am appalled. Just look, m'lady." She circled the room, pointing at various objects. "Dust everywhere, and that's not all. Regard the dullness of that mahogany table. Have they no wax?" She pointed to a slight lump under the bed cover. "Is that a way to make a bed? It's disgracefully sloppy." She eyed Gillis accusingly. "Are you not in charge of the staff, sir? How could you allow this ..." Baker sputtered, searching for the proper word "...devastation to take place?"
Flora listened with mixed feelings. To her, the room looked perfectly fine, charming, really, and quite
cozy. Even so, she must remain loyal to her lady's maid. Despite her lack of humor and constant carping, Baker always had her mistress's best interests at heart. Diplomacy was essential here. "Do you think, Gillis, it would be better if we took up the matter with Mrs. Wendt?" She gave the butler her most charming smile. "Being as I just arrived, I most certainly do not want to cause any trouble. What small...uh, adjustments need to be made, I am sure we can discuss with the housekeeper."
Gillis nodded agreeably. "Indeed, your ladyship, the matter should be taken up with Mrs. Wendt." Before he continued, his butler's mask of indifference was replaced by an irreverent, highly amused expression which raced like lightening across his face and fast disappeared. "I am sure Mrs. Wendt will be delighted to hear of any improvements you might wish to suggest."
Although she didn't fully trust Gillis's last statement, Flora made a note to herself to have a chat with the housekeeper as soon as possible.
* * * *
New husband, new home, new servants, new life.
Finally alone in her bedchamber, Flora's trepidation grew as the time for dinner approached. She longed for her sister, who always managed to put a humorous slant to things. She longed for her parents, who had so constricted her life in the past, yet with them she had always felt loved and protected. She even longed for the security of her well-ordered life, boring though it might have been, but at least she'd known what to expect each day–each night—whereas now...?
Underlying all her fears was her ceaseless, inner question. Would her new husband come to her bed tonight? What would she do if he did?
Nothing.
She suppressed a choked, desperate laugh. Nothing she could do but accept her dismal fate. Terrible regrets assailed her. Yes, her heart had broken when Richard jilted her, but why had she acted so precipitously? She hadn't thought things through, and now...
Oh, Richard,
why did you leave me when I loved you so much?
What if he still loved her? She'd been so certain that he did. What if he realized he'd made a terrible mistake? What if he...?
A soft knock sounds on the door. She opens it. Richard. Her heart starts to pound as she asks, "What are you doing here?" He raises his finger to his lips. "Shh." He swiftly steps in and shuts the door. "Gather your things, we must be quick."
"But what...?"
"I have made a terrible mistake. I love you with all my heart, Flora, I realize that now. I shall explain everything later, but now I want you to come away with me."
"But I can't. I just married your cousin."
"Is the marriage consummated?"
"No, but—"
"That's all I needed to know. I want you, Flora, Lord Dinsmore be damned, the world be damned. Your marriage must be annulled. When it is, you and I shall run off to Gretna Green, marry, and live happily together the rest of our lives."
"Oh, Richard, I love you so
. I—"
"What do you wish to wear for dinner, your ladyship?" Baker had just reentered the room.
"What? Oh." Flora's vision of the man she loved vanished as she brought herself back to cold reality. "Dinner…what to wear…hmm, nothing fancy, I should think. The gray muslin will do."
She had been right to choose a simple gown, Flora reflected at the dinner table that night. In fact, the meal was so informal that she wondered when, if ever, she had dined in such an unceremonious fashion. At home, dinner was a formal affair without fail, the table always set with fine linen, china, silver, and crystal. At the very least, the meal consisted of six courses and was attended by the butler and a cadre of maids and man servants. Not so at Pemberly Manor. Some sort of simple cotton cloth covered only one end of the long, dining room table. Eating utensils were of pewter, glasses were ordinary, and the dishes were of plain pottery, one of them chipped. True, it was a small chip, but one which would have aggrieved her mother no end had she spied such a major blemish upon her finely-laid table. The meal itself was a single course, consisting of roast beef, boiled potatoes and vegetables, and was served by a plainly dressed footman who quickly withdrew. Gillis poured the wine, wished them a good meal, and withdrew also, leaving the two alone.
Lord Dinsmore picked up his glass of wine and held it high. "Here's to you, my dear, on the occasion of our wedding supper." With his one good eye he regarded her with affection. "May we have many more."
"Many more
." Flora raised her glass without enthusiasm. Wedding supper? Practically a peasant's meal. Flora tried not to show her dismay as she took a small bit of roast beef upon her fork. Before the fork had traveled halfway to her lips, she stopped and regarded it with distaste, suddenly aware her normally healthy appetite had disappeared.
"Is it not to your liking?" asked Lord Dinsmore.
She looked across the table at her new husband. In the dim light cast by flickering candles, she could not clearly distinguish his face, but her imagination conjured the scar, the eyepatch...oh, indeed, she knew exactly what was there. "I seem to have lost my appetite. All the excitement—I trust you understand."
He nodded gravely. "You have much you must get accustomed to here at Pemberly Manor."
"Yes." So very much.
"If you like, we shall go riding in the morning. I'll invite Lynd if he's back from London. His sister, Louisa, too. You'll like her. She's a fine figure of a woman. Loves horses, too." He spoke with enthusiasm, as if he could detect her reluctance and was attempting to assuage it. "You may have your choice of horses. If nothing in my stables suits you, then we shall see about buying you whatever horse you choose."
Ordinarily, the thought of finally having her own horse would have excited her no end, but now she could not bring herself to care. "That will be nice," she answered stiffly. He's the Hero of Seedaseer, she reminded herself bleakly. All England revered this fine, honorable man and she should feel greatly honored to be in his very presence. Instead, it was all she could do to stay at the table, not leap to her feet and flee.
For a time they ate in silence, he seeming to give his full attention to his meal, she, forcing a few bites down. "You will forgive the simple fare," he said at last. "The first Lady Dinsmore was adamant we dine formally every night. Naturally, I went along with her wishes, although..." He gave a little laugh and continued, "At heart I'm a military man, accustomed to living at times under the most primitive conditions. Alas, I have fallen back into my old bachelor ways since Edith...ah, well. There's a fine set of French Haviland china packed away somewhere. Also silver, crystal, and the like. Mrs. Wendt would know, Gillis also. I should imagine you'll be eager to, shall we say, resurrect our fine dining things, so in the morning, feel free to talk to Mrs. Wendt."
He was trying to be kind, Flora knew, but she was in such a state of inner tumult she could hardly answer, let alone make herself appear enthused. "I shall if you wish me to," she said, knowing how deadly flat her voice sounded.
"I see." Finishing his meal, Lord Dinsmore laid his knife and fork carefully on his plate, all the while appearing to be in deep thought. "You must be very tired."