Chapter 33
I t had taken several iterations of furniture and dozens more of the decorations, but the parlor was perfect. Or as much as it could be when Joanna couldn’t bear to replace perfectly serviceable furniture. Mrs. Sweet’s taste was vastly different from her own, but it was quite impressive what the right configuration and decorations could do.
Holding up her work, Joanna stared at the hole she’d knitted into the middle of the pattern. With a frown, she examined the stitches, counting out each loop as though identifying the mistake would do any good. Tugging at the yarn, she unraveled all that painstaking work. This was the precise reason Joanna disliked knitting; the repetitive movements allowed one’s mind to wander, yet if one wasn’t diligent in counting the stitches, the work was ruined.
The back of her throat tightened, and Joanna lowered the needles, setting them on the sofa cushion beside her. That tickle warned her that something was amiss, though it was faint enough that she couldn’t say if trouble was afoot. Knowing the reason for her queasiness helped to ease some of her frustration, but Joanna was heartily sick of being not properly ill (which would justify her taking to her bed) yet plagued with the near-constant roiling of her insides.
Drawing in a breath, she waited, turning her attention to every shift inside her, and though the feeling remained, it drifted back into obscurity.
But even with the moment passed, she couldn’t bring herself to take up the work again. It wasn’t as though the blanket was ruined, but having to redo an hour’s work was disheartening—and best addressed tomorrow. With a sigh, she gathered it up and yanked out the last of the stitches as she rose to her feet.
The front door opened, and before she knew what was happening, Edward appeared before her on bended knee, offering up a bouquet of wildflowers.
“I saw these and thought you would like them,” he said, glancing between the blossoms and Joanna with a smile.
“That is kind of you.” Manners demanded she say it, though her tone was more question than statement.
Joanna took the flowers, and though the fragrance was so faint it was nearly non-existent, it struck her hard and fast. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her brows twisting; though not fully in danger of doing anything embarrassing, she hovered on the edge of concern.
“I cannot—” she mumbled, shoving the flowers back into his hands, and Edward stiffened. Shaking her head, Joanna tried to explain, but each required breath brought the scent stronger into her nose. She could taste it on her tongue. “The smell…”
Rising to his feet, he hurried to the door, tossing the flowers out the way they’d come, and then turning to meet her with a smile, he added, “Then I suppose this is the perfect time for my next surprise.”
Before she knew what he was about, he herded her to her seat on the sofa and then disappeared and reappeared with a tea tray in his arms.
“I consulted Mother and Gregory, and I think I have something that might soothe your sour stomach,” he said, setting the offering on the sofa beside her. “Peppermint, chamomile, ginger, lemon balm, and a hint of raspberry leaf. Though a bit of an odd combination, Mother assured me it did wonders for her.”
Notes of mint and ginger filled her nose, and despite that organ’s sensitivity of late, the scent didn’t bring about a foul turn, which was miraculous in its own right.
“I popped into Buckleys’ and secured a few of the sweet buns you like, though I gave them to Peggy for safekeeping until you feel up to eating,” he continued whilst preparing the tisane with healthy doses of milk and sugar.
Joanna’s eyes followed each movement as her husband readied the cup with the care of a society matron, not asking for a single direction as he prepared it precisely as she liked her tisanes. And when he handed it over, Edward watched her carefully as though searching for any sign of distaste.
When he urged her to take another sip, Joanna did as bidden, though she couldn’t stop staring at the gentleman. The behavior was odd in its own right, but combined with the strangeness of last night, Joanna felt certain Edward must be feverish. Even physicians fell prey to the diseases they battled.
“What are you doing home?” she asked, as it was the only thing she could think to say.
“Since I am leaving tomorrow and will be gone for some days—and there is no pressing work to be done, of course—I thought I should spend the afternoon with my wife,” he said, settling into the seat beside the tea tray. “I was thinking of a picnic, but it’s already sweltering…” Pausing in thought, Edward drummed his fingers against the arm of the sofa.
Straightening, he smiled at her. “Perhaps we could visit Pickering Pond. Do you swim?”
Joanna stared at him. Though capable of comprehending the question, she didn’t know how to answer that. Of course, she knew what swimming was (though she had never gained that skill), but how did one respond to the fellow’s eagerness?
“I can teach you if you do not,” he added, his smile growing as he considered that possibility. “I’ve never taught anyone before, but I’m certain we can sort it out.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
His fingers beat a rapid staccato against the sofa arm as he sent her a grin that was likely supposed to be charming and innocent but was soured by the uncertainty in his gaze.
“I am trying to woo you, Joanna,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Though clearly, I am failing miserably if you cannot recognize my actions for what they are.”
“Not this again.” Joanna set the teacup on the tray and rose to her feet, one hand on her hip and the other pinching her nose as her feet dragged her across the parlor and back again. “I don’t know what has come over you, but this is ridiculous. You must stop this nonsense.”
Edward stood, though he didn’t match her pacing or try to hold her in place, which was for the best, as she needed to move. His words slithered from the dark recesses of her memory and echoed in her head.
“I love you.”
How many times had she imagined hearing such a thing? The three words Joanna longed for more than any others? In all of her eight and twenty years, she couldn’t think of a single time when anyone had said them to her; perhaps some nursemaid when she was too young to understand or recall, but heaven knew Father wasn’t one to say such a thing.
So much hope, yet hearing them finally spoken aloud made her heart crumple and collapse. There’d been a time when Joanna might’ve wished for Edward’s kindly meant lie, but now, it weighed heavily on her chest, pressing down on her until she couldn’t breathe.
“I know you do not believe me, Joanna, but I swear to you that I meant what I said last night—”
“Just like that?” she demanded, turning to face him with both hands on her hips. “One moment I am just a friendly companion and the next, I am the woman you adore? Don’t be silly, Edward.”
“I’m not—”
“No!” Joanna shook her head, her vision blurring before she knew what was happening. “Is it your pride, Edward? Is it hurting because I no longer worship you? Do you miss my constant fawning?” But she shook her head, turning away before he could speak, adding, “No. It’s like Papa, isn’t it? Realizing he liked having me about but only after I was gone. Never wanting me until he was left with nothing else.”
Edward said something in reply, though her ears couldn’t hear it. With each word, Joanna’s spirit sank as she realized the truth of the matter.
“This is my lot in life, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Never to be wanted for myself but because I am the only one around.”
“No.” The word was firm, and Edward appeared before her, demanding her attention, though she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze and see his desperate attempts to salvage the situation.
“That is not it at all, Joanna,” he said, his hands reaching out for hers. “I am not conjuring these feelings because I am lonely or desperate. We are together every day. We spend our nights together. You speak as though we are strangers, but even with the rules you placed on our marriage, it’s never been cold between us.”
Edward took hold of her hands, his tone lowering in a manner that made the meaning of his words clear, bringing memories to her mind of those warm evenings they’d spent locked away together in their bedchamber. No matter how confusing their marriage, in that area they never seemed to struggle.
Stepping closer, he drew his arms around her, pulling her to him, and the feel of Edward surrounding her allowed her heart to settle; having slept so little the night before, Joanna was quite happy to give him her weight. Edward’s hands rested on the small of her back, caressing her as he kept her upright. He always smelled of the medicines he administered, but the scent of mint and ginger was most prominent at that moment (which was no surprise given his thoughtfulness).
Why rail against this? Joanna’s heart was so very tired of holding firm to her resolve, so why not accept Edward’s change? Only a fool looked a gift horse in the mouth after all.
“I know you struggle to trust me, and I am so very sorry you have reason to doubt my feelings,” he whispered. “But I assure you I am telling the truth. I—”
Joanna sensed those three poisoned words before they left his lips, and she jerked out of his hold, forcing him away before he could utter them. Only a fool blinded herself to the truth in favor of a lie, and she refused to allow her traitorous heart to lull her into acquiescence. Its memory was far too short a thing, forever forgetting just how painful it was when the delusion faded and she was forced to face reality for what it was.
For her child’s sake, if nothing else, Joanna had to be strong. What sort of life would her son or daughter have with a mother who was forever being crushed beneath the unfulfilled hopes she allowed herself to cling to?
“Don’t, Edward.” Though her voice was quiet, it held firm as she forced herself out of the fantasy her silly heart kept trying to embrace. “Don’t toy with me. I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish, but I cannot stand this anymore. Can you not see how much this hurts me?”
“Yes, but only because you refuse to believe me—”
“Stop it, Edward!” she shouted before fleeing the parlor.
The sound of his feet following pushed her faster, and Joanna rushed up the stairs and into their bedchamber, slamming the door on him and the temptation he presented.
*
Staring at the barricade, Edward knew she hadn’t thrown the bar to lock him out, yet he remained in the corridor. What good would it do to force his way into her sanctuary? Would dismissing her desires endear her all the more to him? Prove to her that she could trust him?
As much as Edward’s impulses fully believed they could settle this once and for all if he simply went inside and kept talking until she relented, his good sense was strong enough to keep him from making yet another mistake. Though his hand struggled to release the handle when he heard the muffled sound of tears echoing through the door.
Turning, he sagged against it and slid to the floor. How had they arrived at this point? It would be easy to blame Joanna’s mood on her expectant state, but once more, his good sense refused to relent to foolish thoughts—however enticing.
This was his bill come due.
Granted, Edward Vaughn wasn’t the only one who had done damage to this dear lady—and his had been unintentional—but it didn’t erase the fact that he had crushed her heart beneath his heel far too many times. A lifetime of feeling unloved, and this marriage had only added to her pain.
“This is my lot in life, isn’t it? Never to be wanted for myself but because I am the only one around.”
Edward’s eyes stung, and he closed them tight against the pain in his chest as her voice echoed in his mind. Like needles, they dug into his skin, piercing him again and again as her words, so full of resignation and despair, repeated in his memory.
Joanna believed his feelings to be as fickle as her father’s. Just the thought had Edward’s insides twisting. Yet was it any wonder when she’d never experienced unconditional love? And here, he blustered in with grand gestures as though a few flowers and a sweet word or two would erase years of neglect and apathy.
Was it any wonder that she doubted his change of heart when Edward, himself, couldn’t understand when or how it had changed? Yet now that the feeling had been named, he couldn’t deny that truth any more than he could say the sky was green.
He loved Joanna. Just thinking the words sent warmth pulsing through him, increasing with every beat of his heart. The realization was no less wondrous than when he’d stumbled upon it last night, but the more he considered the feeling, the stronger it grew. And with it, dozens of little moments over the past months sprang to mind, weaving together a tapestry that encapsulated that journey from friend to lover.
But how to convince Joanna of that? Clearly, his current approach was doing nothing but harm. Yet Edward couldn’t leave it alone as she insisted. What to do? Joanna didn’t want to be wooed or touched; she wanted a friend. Perhaps it was time for him to suffer the same fate she’d been consigned to year after year. Pining in silence.
Minutes ticked by as he considered the situation, his part in it, and the path forward, and Edward’s heart constricted as he considered just how long it took before Joanna’s tears quieted. Giving it a bit longer, he rose to his feet and inched open the door just enough to ensure that she had calmed.
Lying on her side, Joanna didn’t look at him as he tiptoed across the room to find her complexion leached of all color.
“I apologize,” he whispered as he stood before her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Joanna gave no sign that she heard him; her eyes remained glazed over as though asleep with them open.
Easing onto his side of the mattress, Edward faced his wife. Now was not the time for forcefulness, but if he relented entirely, it would only play into her doubts and fears. Settling his head onto the pillow, he studied her features—those simple little things that had once seemed so unexceptional yet, even in their disheveled state, were stunning now.
How was that possible? He knew Joanna hadn’t altered, but something inside him had, leaving him free to see her for who she truly was—not just the bits and pieces, but body, mind, and soul—and Edward could say without hesitation that she was the loveliest creature in the world.
Though now was not the time to say such a thing.
“I promise I will be more circumspect,” he said.
Joanna’s eyes blinked, drawing in a bit of life before they focused on him with a questioning frown.
“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but my feelings have changed—”
Turning away from him, Joanna moved to rise from the bed, but Edward grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I promise that I will not speak the words you find so discomforting.”
Joanna eased down again and rested her head on her pillow, though her back remained turned to him.
“But just so there is no misunderstanding between us, you should know I am not surrendering,” he said. “I will move as slowly as you wish, and I will not press the issue, but I will not stop. I will do whatever I have to to gain your trust and love once more.”
Reaching forward, he settled his arm around her—all whilst wondering if it was a wise course of action. A sigh escaped her lips, and he couldn’t help smiling at the hint of exasperation in it; no matter how slight, the sign of her fiery spirit was welcome. Knowing she was quite capable of pushing him away, Edward slowly shifted until she was pulled flush to him, and he felt like sighing at this tiniest of victories.
One way or another, he would convince her of his feelings.