Chapter 20
O ne of the beautiful things about summer in Yorkshire was the length of day. For all that people complained about the long nights of winter, the opposite was true in summer. To Eddie’s thinking, there was nothing wrong with the darkness that descended upon the world; when gripped in the cold embrace of winter and with ice and snow coating the ground, the expansive blanket of night was comforting.
In the warm months, the sun strolled leisurely across the sky, only surrendering to the horizon when it was good and ready to do so. It was invigorating to step outside to find the world still illuminated, allowing one more time to enjoy the beauty of summer.
But when Eddie finally bade farewell to his patient, he found himself shrouded in darkness without a hint of yellow or orange distorting the unending black. Not a single cloud marred the perfection stretching above him. Even with the full moon blazing brightly, there were still stars aplenty to see, and it felt as though he were staring into the deepest parts of the universe.
A sharp breeze tugged at his clothes, and though it was a blessed relief from the blazing heat of this summer, Eddie drew his jacket closer and forced his feet to move. Or tried. For all that his mind was made up, his limbs knew better and kept him planted in place.
Having spent most of the day sitting at Mr. Parsons’ bedside, Eddie’s legs were well up to the effort of standing, though he longed for his home and bed.
Yet Joanna would be there.
His ribs constricted, squeezing him tight, and it felt as though he’d stepped in an anthill, their little bodies skittering up and down his skin. A wave of self-reproof flooded his mind as he mentally flogged himself for such an unfeeling thought. Joanna was a sweet lady—one that had proved far more enjoyable than he’d originally believed—and moving houses was stressful for all parties involved, so it was entirely uncharitable to condemn her for being out of sorts.
However, Eddie couldn’t help feeling that Joanna’s behavior had been especially odd over the past sennight. Something more than the usual stresses of life.
Pleasing others was a hallmark of her personality, but as their time as husband and wife continued, he had thought she was learning to relax her tight grip on that characteristic. Seeing Joanna return to her servile nature left a sour taste in his mouth, especially when time after time, she insisted nothing was amiss—as though he couldn’t recognize the lie for what it was.
Forcing his feet forward, Eddie trudged down the road, his mind filling with thoughts of his wife. Though he hated being one of those husbands who avoided his home, he couldn’t help but wonder if he might shadow his father tomorrow to give himself something more to do than sit at home, constantly reassuring her.
What did it matter if the pillow was on the chair or the sofa? Or the vase or figurine adorned the mantelpiece? It all looked the same, yet Joanna fretted over every detail and insisted on deferring to him at every turn whilst never accepting his answer.
This couldn’t last forever. Surely, it couldn’t. The house would soon be settled (he hoped), and Joanna could return to her usual quiet self.
But was this to be his future? It wasn’t as though life was peaceful. Upsets and changes were constants, and Eddie couldn’t bear the thought of having to weather each whilst also having to manage a fretful wife who flapped her hands and insisted he shoulder the entirety of the decision. What man wanted a dependent rather than a partner?
The rucksack on his shoulder bumped his thigh with each step, but Eddie ignored it as his eyes fixed on the ground ahead of him. The houses along the road were all dark, their shutters closed tight with nothing moving about but him; only the sound of the shop signs swinging in the breeze broke the silence as he stepped onto the main thoroughfare through Thornsby, though he hardly noticed any of it as he contemplated his situation.
Arriving at their home, he slipped through the door set to the side of the shop entrance. A lamp hung just inside, burning bright and ready for his use, and Eddie took hold of it, allowing its light to guide him up the still unfamiliar staircase. Stepping through the front door, he set the rucksack on the sofa.
And paused.
With only the light of the lamp to illuminate the space, it was difficult to see much, but even in that dim light, Eddie marveled at the change rendered in the parlor. The room looked fully settled, with wall hangings, cushions, and decorations scattered throughout, but everything had been shifted about to the point that it bore little resemblance to the place he’d left that morning. Joanna had been busy.
Shrugging off his jacket and depositing it on the sofa beside the bag, Eddie shuffled to the stairs that led to the bedchambers above. The boards squeaked beneath his shoes, and he stepped carefully, but each movement sounded as though he were trodding on mice.
When he arrived at the landing, his shoulders dropped as he spied candlelight leaking through the crack beneath their bedchamber door. There was no point in tip-toeing about, so Eddie drew in a sharp breath and grabbed the latch.
With pillows built up behind her, Joanna sat with a book on her knees, her eyes turning to meet him as he entered. “There you are. I had just about given up hope.”
Though the words were spoken lightly, Eddie paused on the threshold. He didn’t know what to make of the statement, so he simply accepted it at face value. “I apologize—”
“I didn’t mean it as a criticism, Edward,” she said, setting her book aside. “I know your work keeps unorthodox hours, but I was worried you might require something. Do you want me to fetch you dinner? You must be starved.”
Whilst the concern for his well-being was kind, Eddie’s shoulders slumped as he crossed to the side table and set down his lamp; Joanna was so very thoughtful, yet every action and concern seemed steeped in the desperate need to please.
“My thanks, but I only wish to sleep.” Quickly, he changed into his nightshirt and slipped into bed beside her. Joanna tossed away the extra pillows and settled down with a yawn.
“What kept you?” she asked, turning on her side to face him.
“As Mr. Parsons is the only patient I have of note, I would think the answer obvious,” he replied with a touch more vinegar than intended. His muscles tensed at the unintended slight against her, but before he could rush to assure her, Joanna nodded.
“How is Mr. Parsons?” she asked with another yawn as she snuggled into her pillow. “You were with him all day. I hope nothing is terribly wrong.”
“Nothing more than usual.” Following her example, Eddie settled into his pillow, tucking his hands beneath his head as he stared at the upper panel of the bed; thick brocade curtains were tied to each post, ready to be pulled closed and provide the pair with more warmth in the dead of winter.
With a faint smile, he added, “Mr. Parsons is convinced he is at death’s door several times a year, and I’ve grown accustomed to managing these moods. As his solicitor refuses to indulge the gentleman’s fancies, I’ve taken over the role of executor of his will, and I spent hours at his bedside writing out the new provisions. Then I gathered up all the objects he’s chosen to bequeath to individuals. He’s lost quite a few things over the years by doling them out prematurely, so I tell him I will distribute them while in actuality I hold onto them until he is feeling himself again.”
Though Joanna’s eyes didn’t open, her brows rose at that, her voice growing a little more coherent as she asked, “You do?”
“Mr. Parsons may not be ill in body, but he is ill in spirit,” he explained. “Though I do not know how to cure him of these bouts, the least I can do is treat him respectfully, and I cannot protect him from himself, but I can mitigate some of his folly.”
“That is kind of you. I doubt many would bother being so patient or understanding.”
Eddie huffed. “Do not paint me as a saint, Joanna. With Father still seeing to most of the village, I have plenty of time to give to Mr. Parsons. Though that will change someday.”
Joanna gave a low hum at that. “True, but just because you have the time to devote to Mr. Parsons, doesn’t mean you have to do so. Plenty of men would simply enjoy the income their father has given them and wouldn’t bother being sympathetic to the gentleman’s plight. I am proud of you, Edward.”
Sleep colored her words, making it clear that she was quickly drifting off, yet Joanna spoke with such certainty, and Eddie stared at her as her breathing deepened, his brows furrowing as the warmth of her words spread through him. That blind adoration she so often heaped upon him painted everything with the same brush, never differentiating between failures or successes and leaving all her praise suspect, yet these words felt genuine—as though truly earned and not simply offered in a desperate attempt to win his good favor.
“Joanna?”
She gave another vague hum that sounded as though she were more asleep than awake, and though Eddie knew he ought to let her rest, a question lingered in his mind that he couldn’t brush aside. He’d longed to know the answer for so long, and perhaps being trapped between wakefulness and sleep might loosen her tongue enough to give him another bout of honesty.
“Why do you call me Edward?”