Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
I f there was one thing Clarissa had learned to do over the years, it was read the moods of those around her. That night as they stood together in the parlor waiting for the arrival of her parents, Clarissa felt frustration in Roderick. She didn’t know the cause, of course, but she still felt tense as she watched him pace the room, seemingly distracted.
“Did your meeting with Mr. Brightly go well?” she asked.
He jerked his head up from where he was staring into his drink and nodded. “Er, yes. He’s a good man for the job, I can depend on him. I trust his suggestions for estate improvements.”
“Will he join us again before he returns to Kirkwood?”
“Yes. He’s in Town for his daughter’s wedding, so he’ll be busy with that for a while. But I’m certain he’ll come again afterward.”
“Good. When you know the date, share it with me and I’ll set aside time so that I may talk to him about the baskets for tenants we discussed earlier.”
“I brought it up to him this afternoon,” Roderick said. “So he’s thinking about it, as well as making a list for you of people on the estate who may need extra help. ”
She stared at him a moment. “That was kind of you, to bring up the subject.”
“It was important to you,” he said, and his dark eyes found hers, holding there, pinning her in place.
She shifted, uncertain of the blooming tingles that had begun in her chest. Desire, yes, but it felt like more.
“Roderick,” she began, but before she could finish, Stevenson stepped into the parlor.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart, my lord, my lady.”
Her parents burst into the room in what felt like a chaotic explosion. Her mother was wearing feathers and they were shedding lightly behind her, marking a trail that would guarantee she was never lost. Her father, meanwhile, immediately started looking around the room, no doubt tallying up the value of every item in sight.
“Mama, Father,” Clarissa managed, sneaking a side glance at Roderick even as she moved forward to greet her parents. His lips were pursed a little, in annoyance, she recognized. Her fault, she supposed, for their marriage had forced him to be linked to her family. And though she tried hard to stick to the rules of Society which said she must obey and honor her parents, it was difficult when they behaved badly.
“… such a glorious estate,” her mother was saying. “I meant to say it to you at the wedding, but we were all so busy that day. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier one.”
“Or more richly appointed,” her father said with a smile for Roderick. “Hardly needed our Clarissa’s little dowry at all, did you?”
Clarissa set her teeth as heat rushed to her cheeks. “Father, we mustn’t speak of such crude topics.”
“Oh, hush,” he grunted at her without looking. “The earl is family now. Family may rib each other a little.”
It wasn’t ribbing, though. Clarissa knew it. She could see Roderick did, too. And it was all made worse by the fact that the whatever sacrifices her father had made for that little dowry he referenced would swiftly be erased by less than a year of her pin money deposits back into their accounts. Of course, Roderick didn’t know that. She had written to their solicitor and asked for the account to be managed that way the moment her new husband had told her that she might arrange the funds however she liked.
He’d offered her freedom. And she had been forced to give it away. For a moment she resented it before she pushed those harsh emotions aside. A lady was meant to be moderate in all feelings.
She hated those words so much lately. Even if she continued to do her best to follow them.
“Clarissa?” Roderick stepped to her side and gently set a hand on her lower back. The warmth of his fingers brought her back to the moment and she glanced up at him. He appeared concerned now, not annoyed. At least that was somewhat better.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I’m sorry, I was just woolgathering.”
“Not very polite of you,” her father grunted. “Come, why don’t we have a drink before supper?”
Roderick straightened a little, his lips tightening, and then he moved toward the sideboard. He was just fiddling with bottles to find the right selection when Stevenson returned to the room.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but Mr. Brightly sent word about that…” He glanced at Clarissa briefly. “That matter you requested he take care of. You wished to see the note if he sent it so you might immediately reply.”
“Yes,” Roderick said. “My apologies. This will only take a moment.” He nodded to her parents and Clarissa and hustled away.
She sighed at the idea that she would be alone with them, but went to the liquor bottle Roderick had pulled out. “I’ll serve you, Father.”
“With that?” he blustered. “Come, you know he has better-quality stuff than that.”
She pursed her lips and bent to the cabinet. She dug around and found the best scotch she could. When she lifted the bottle, she said, “Will this appease your taste?”
“Very nice.” Her father waved her to pour. “Go on then.”
She poured one for him and then a sherry for herself and her mother. As she handed out the drinks, she saw them exchange a glance. Her mother elbowed her father lightly and he sipped his drink before he said, “I saw that money was put on our books today. I assume from your pin funds?”
She nodded. “Yes, I would imagine so. I arranged it with Roderick’s man. It will be moved to your account after the first of each month.”
“Seems it could be more,” her mother said.
She wrinkled her brow. “It is a generous sum, Mama. And one I fully control. I couldn’t ask for more.”
“You could,” her father insisted. “Or give us a larger portion of what you are given.”
She frowned. As demanded, she had given them two-thirds of her monthly allowance, which meant that after her purchases today, she had nothing left. How was one meant to obtain blood from a stone? Or did they expect her to have no pleasures of her own so they could maintain their lifestyle?
“I—” she began, but before she could finish, Roderick returned to the room. Once more, his mood had changed. His lips were pinched now, his gaze stormy even as he crossed to her and put a hand on her lower back once more.
“Stevenson tells me our supper is ready,” he said with a quick glare at her parents. “Why don’t we move to the dining room?”
He took her arm to lead the way and she looked up at him. “Is—is something wrong?” she asked softly.
He looked at her then, but just as quickly looked away. “I’m well, I assure you. We can discuss it more later, when we have privacy.”
She swallowed hard. What did that mean? What did they have to discuss? But there was no way to press him now. They entered the dining room and took their places at the table.
The night went as well as one could expect. Roderick erased whatever reaction he had from his countenance, certainly her parents didn’t recognize anything was wrong. Only every once in a while did Clarissa notice him watching her, his lips thin as if with displeasure. She had done something wrong and the panic that rose in her was almost overwhelming. Why, she couldn’t say. They didn’t have a love match, after all. She had no doubt that even if he decided he didn’t like her anymore that he would take care of her. He was too gentlemanly to do anything different.
But the idea that he would draw himself away from her felt harder than it should, regardless of any safety he continued to provide. She liked being near him, it turned out. Too much, perhaps. Enough that she was endangering herself with silly emotions.
Supper ended at last and her parents insisted on playing a game of cards after. Clarissa could barely manage herself as she sat across from Roderick and felt the wall between them while she poorly played cards and caused them to lose to her crowing parents.
Eventually, though, her parents moved to the door and they said their goodbyes. Her father leaned in as he said farewell and whispered, “If you care about your parents, after all we did for you, you will find a way to give more.”
She drew in a long breath and nodded slowly before she kissed her mother’s cheek and she and Roderick stepped out to wave their carriage away into the night. When they were gone, it was like a weight was lifted from her chest. So odd, since she had never realized she felt that way around them until she was in her own home, with a man who seemed to value her autonomy as much as her opinions or company.
“Would you like to come to the parlor for a drink or go to our chamber?” Roderick asked, his tone still rather tight. So it wasn’t just her parents who had caused the shift.
She faced him. “I find myself tired. Perhaps our chamber is best.”
At least they would have privacy there if he decided to declare their marriage one in name only until he wished to produce an heir with her. To her surprise, he held out a hand. She stared at the long, lean fingers that had brought her so much pleasure over the last week and finally took it.
They were silent as they went up the stairs together, down the long hallway, into their chamber. He didn’t stop at the antechamber, but took her into his room, as usual. She worried her lip as the tension between them increased with every move. When he shut the door, he leaned against it and watched her. She fought not to respond, just to wait. Let him make the first move. Not ask for too much when she wanted to beg for just that.
Finally, he drew in a long breath and said, “Tell me what your parents have compelled you to do with your pin money.”
Clarissa’s mouth fell open at the order and for a moment all her limbs went numb. She shifted. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
He shoved off the door and took a long step toward her. “Clarissa.” His dark green eyes held her, unwavering, unrelenting. “Tell me. Now.”
W hen Roderick had left Clarissa with her parents before supper to read Brightly’s note, he had been nervous, but excited. He was arranging for some changes to the countess chamber at Stratford Manor. A way to surprise her and start to inject some of her personality into their home. When he’d returned, though, when he’d overheard her father demanding she share more of her pin money with him, when he’d realized she’d already turned over a good sum of it to her parents, his good mood had changed.
What he’d wanted to do in that moment was burst into the room, have it out with her greedy parents, come to her defense and burn the world down if need be. It had taken all his control not to do so, to wait so that he could have a private conversation with her, rather than involve her awful parents. This was between them, after all.
Now she was shifting from one foot to the other, wringing her hands before her, unable to meet his gaze. He saw her anxiety in every twitch of her cheek, her upset in the tremble of her hands.
“I-I—” she stammered, her voice wavering .
He took another step toward her and softened his tone and expression. “Please, Clarissa.”
She lifted her eyes to his at the please . She almost seemed shocked by his gentleness. Which meant she deserved it all the more. But when he reached for her, she pivoted and paced away, around the bed so that it became a barrier between them. She fiddled with items on her bedside table, touched the book under the candle there.
“It’s my money, isn’t it?” she asked.
He supposed she meant that question to be tart, and it was on some level. It reminded him of how they had begun weeks and weeks ago on her parents’ estate. When they had been enemies, rivals. But unlike then, he knew her now. He could see the pain in her eyes, hear the embarrassment in her tone. Her armor could be pierced now. He wanted to make it so she never had to wear it again.
“Yes,” he said softly. “The money is yours to do with as you wish.”
“Then why interrogate me?” she asked, and threw up her hands. “You obviously overheard something that wasn’t meant for your ears.”
He started around the bed then, but not fully. He didn’t push into her space, just closed a little of the distance. “My duty as your husband is to protect you. To ensure your health and happiness. To be certain you aren’t being harmed or taken advantage of.”
She shook her head. “They cannot take advantage—they’re my parents.”
“Oh, they very much can and I would argue they do. And all the more shame on them for it.”
All the color left her cheeks at that admonishment. She gripped her hands at her sides. “The duty of a child is to honor their parents’ wishes. If they ask for something?—”
“Even if it’s a cruel request?” he interrupted. “Your pin money is for your needs and pleasures. It’s given so that you aren’t beholden to me for every farthing. Especially given the circumstances of our union, it matters all the more that you can feel some control over your purchases and experiences.”
“But they…” She trailed off and shook her head. “They need it. ”
He barely stopped himself from snorting his derision. It wouldn’t help now, not when she was so stuck in this idea that she was responsible for the welfare of people who never bothered to consider hers. “ You need it. It grants you autonomy. If they wish to steal that from you, they don’t have your best interest at heart.”
To his surprise, she didn’t argue with him. She lifted her gaze to his and held there and for a moment he could read her thoughts. She was considering how her parents had forced this union, with no thought of anything but their own desires.
“Perhaps they never have,” she whispered, so softly that he had to strain to hear the words. But there they were. The censure they deserved at last. But she bent her head and let out a little sob. “My apologies for my outburst.”
He came the rest of the way around the bed. “ That wasn’t an outburst! I wish you were angry enough to have an outburst. At me, at them, anything!”
Her jaw set. “You are so driven to break me from good behavior, for what? Your own amusement? Because you dislike the concept of propriety so much?”
“That’s what this is about?” he asked. “ Propriety ? Who says that being harmed and then forced to take it with that beautiful smile is proper?”
She swept the unlit candle aside and held up the book beneath it, shaking it at him. “This! And every other manual on what a lady should be! Every person of authority who ever scolded me for being too much said the same. It is what is expected, the way of our world, whether you want to drag me from it or not.”
She tossed the book onto the bed and it bounced toward him.
“And what do the books and authority figures tell you about being human, Clarissa?” He finally gave in to what he’d wanted to do all night and took both her hands.
She stared at their intertwined fingers and then slowly lifted her gaze to his face. There were tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away, not letting him see too far in. A loss he felt down to his soul. “ How very easy for you to say when you’ve never had to face the world with a smile when all you wanted to do was scream.”
He blinked because in that moment he saw it all. Everything she feared and suppressed, everything that secretly weighed her down and made her doubt herself. He saw her vulnerability and all he wanted to do was sooth her, help her, see her true self. He wanted to make himself trustworthy enough that she could give him that true self.
She slipped her hands away and moved around him. She didn’t face him, but stood with her back turned, her hands shaking at her sides. “Do you demand I stop giving them the money?”
He let out a long sigh, because as much as he wished to be a safe place for her to fall in that moment, he knew he wasn’t. Arguing with her would only put up further walls between them. “It’s yours. If you insist, I won’t stop you.”
“Good.” At last she turned toward him. “As I said before we came up, I feel tired. If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll sleep in my own chamber tonight.”
A pain like being stabbed in the heart ripped through him, stronger than it should be, so sudden that he rested a hand on the edge of the mattress to keep himself from buckling. Since their marriage, she hadn’t slept anywhere but beside him.
He cleared his throat. “Very well, Clarissa. Of course.”
She swallowed hard and her gaze flitted away from his. “Good night, Roderick.”
She was gone then, slipped from his chamber in a few steps, his door closing gently behind her. He stood staring at that door for a moment, longing and sadness filling him, along with confusion. This was a forced union, one they had come to accept. Yes, he wanted her, far more than he had ever believed he could, but they’d agreed it wasn’t more. And yet the idea of being without her was painful. The idea of her being alone and hurt burned even more.
He turned away from the door and rested his hands on the edge of her side of the bed. A few inches away from his hands was the book she had waved at him and tossed aside.
The Mirror of Graces .
It looked such a harmless little tome, and yet it seemed to rule Clarissa’s every move, every thought. It and books like it had become part of the fabric of her being, a way for her to justify any pain her parents caused, to punish herself for experiencing emotions or desires.
He picked it up and slowly opened the cover, reading over the contents page carefully. He glanced at the door again. If he wanted to be of help to his wife, perhaps what he needed to do was better understand her. So he crossed to the fireplace, took a seat and began to read the book in earnest, hoping it could unlock some of the secrets Clarissa held inside. Ones he shouldn’t care about digging deep to excavate, and yet he couldn’t help himself.