Chapter 7 #2
“Adelaide,” he said gently.
“Yes, sir.”
“You may call me Richard.”
“Of—of course, sir.”
“No, please. You are not a soldier under my command nor a servant in my employ. Do not address me so formally.”
“If that is what you wish.”
For a moment, Richard wanted to groan in frustration. Who was this compliant waif? Where was the woman who had struggled fiercely against her lecherous suitors?
The carriage pulled around another corner. Avington House would not be far.
Richard sighed and tried a different approach. Gently, he reached over for the fisted hands on her lap. She opened them for him, and he tugged off both their gloves before clasping her small fingers between his own.
“You are my wife, Adelaide. You do not need to fear voicing your true thoughts with me.”
She nodded tensely. “Very good, sir—that is, Richard.”
Well, that was a step, he supposed.
Richard pressed her hands. “And if there is anything you wish to tell me—”
The horses neighed as their carriages keeled to a stop. Adelaide retrieved her fingers from his and quickly donned her gloves again. “We must not keep the servants waiting, Colonel Avington,” she said. Then as soon as the carriage door opened, she was gone.
Adelaide survived the deference and reception of the large Avington House staff in a state of near-paralysis. She was no society debutante, but she had been raised genteel. Seeing a large house with a large staff and a group of strangers calling her Mrs. Avington ought not to daunt her.
And it didn’t.
What daunted her was something else entirely, and Adelaide was determined to tuck away the thought for as long as she could.
She’d always had her share of trepidation around men. How could she not, given what she knew of men’s brute strength? But the colonel had always seemed kind and considerate. And she hadn’t hesitated at all to find refuge in his arms when Mr. Bamburst had shown his true colors last week.
But now, the colonel was her husband. And a husband held rights—husbandly rights.
And the very thought of those rights terrified her to oblivion.
“Your room shall be right next to Master Richard’s,” said the housekeeper as she led Adelaide down the well-kept upper hallway, oblivious to the new mistress’s internal turmoil.
“We are repairing the other suites this month, but we hope you find the accommodations acceptable for tonight, Mrs. Avington.”
Room—Richard—night—the words ricocheted around her mind in a haze of panic. Why had she allowed herself to think, even for a fleeting few days, that she could survive the reality of marriage?
Adelaide tried her best to hide the tremor in her voice, and her hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Hunt.”
The servant appeared impressed that she’d remembered her name and proceeded to lead Adelaide to the aforementioned bedroom.
It was only meant to be one night’s stay, for they were slated to travel to the colonel’s estate by the morning.
The comforts provided by the well-furnished room was entirely irrelevant.
But who would occupy it with her signified much, much more.
Adelaide walked into her designated room in a daze.
She ran her gaze in a general way over the well-appointed chamber.
Mrs. Hunt, apparently adequately pleased with her quiet approval of the state of the place, excused herself with the promise to send a maid up later to assist Adelaide as her lady’s maid for the evening. Adelaide swallowed before thanking her.
There were many reasons a young bride would need a lady’s maid. She shuddered to think of every single one.
The footmen soon arrived, her largest trunk in tow. The rest of her belongings were packed for the journey North. Only one evening dress, and one nightgown, were necessary for her toilette tonight.
Her eyes roamed to the bed that sat in the middle of the room. Her throat constricted.
The colonel was a kind man—or, at least, had presented himself to be one every time they’d met in public.
But hadn’t her father been the same way?
His public persona differed vastly with his private one.
Wasn’t that why, when Mama strayed, that anyone who knew the situation condemned her unceasingly?
Adelaide fought her tears well until the servants finally left her alone. She sat by the fire, waiting for the panic to ease, waiting her control to return.
Neither happened.
By the time she had been combed and dressed and properly bedecked for dinner, she might as well be an ornately decorated statue crumbling inside.
She tried to hide her unease, but the colonel was quick to remark at the table, “Are you quite alright? You look almost pale.”
Adelaide tried to smile, barely succeeding. “It is only the fatigue of the day.”
“Then we must make an early night of it.” He tackled his food. “We have much distance to cover tomorrow.”
She nearly choked.
“Yes. Yes, sir.”
He paused and looked straight at her. His gaze appeared benign, almost concerned. But who could tell what lurked underneath?
“My apologies—Richard.”
He nodded and resumed his meal. “I suppose it might be difficult to accustom yourself to the informality, given the disparity of age.”
“You are hardly so old.”
“Thank you.” He looked slightly bemused for the first time all day. “But war has its ways of aging a man.”
“Was it very horrible?”
“You mean the battlefield?”
“Yes.”
He seemed to consider her question. “It was. It very much was.”
Adelaide felt her heart soften slightly, even if the rest of her remained high-strung as ever. “You were away for many years.”
“It did not feel like quite so many, most days.” A faraway look took over his eyes.
His hands remained poised over his food, although he’d stopped eating for the moment.
“It felt mostly about survival, and nothing more. One more day to march. One more day to fight. I did not stay in the frontlines for long, and I often wonder if my brother Alfred had pulled a few strings with his friends in higher places to arrange things. It wouldn’t be the first time he meddled. ”
“You have many brothers?”
The colonel—Richard, she supposed—regarded her with a thoughtful look. “I suppose we never did get very much acquainted, did we?”
Adelaide lowered her eyes.
“I have four brothers, all married,” he said. “They all reside outside of London, although the primary family estate is in Oxfordshire. They do come at various times, and the house is always kept in order in case any of us wish to stay.”
“I see.”
“If you wish to meet any of them, I can always arrange things.”
“I—whatever you advise.”
The answer did not seem to appease her new husband as much as she expected. Did he not want a compliant wife?
The thought of being compliant in different ways sent another shot of dread down her stomach.
She tried to sip her soup.
“If you have no other obligations in town, then I would prefer to leave for Norfolk as soon as we can tomorrow,” her husband said, his words skittering over the dining table to her.
“As you wish,” she said.
“Granville might need some work to set right, but I have been assured by the land agent my brother recommended that it shall be habitable on short notice.”
“That sounds promising.”
“As mistress, of course, you will have to see to the running of the house. But the housekeeper we have engaged learned her trade under the guidance of Edgar and Heather’s Mrs. Pikes. She should be well-equipped to assist you. As an army man, my needs are sparse.”
The reminder of having to meet any of her husband’s needs twisted Adelaide’s nerves into a knot tight enough to burst. She nodded timidly. “Yes, sir.”
He did not respond. For a moment, she stared at her soup. Had she already managed to anger the man she’d married a mere few hours ago? How inauspicious of a way to begin married life was that?
Cautiously, she lifted her gaze.
“Adelaide,” he said, his words and his expression heavy with more confusion than anger. “Is everything truly all right?”
No, everything was not. Marriage was terrifying. The marriage bed was terrifying. Adelaide flinched as the memory of her mother’s screams flitted through her mind.
“I shall endeavor to be,” she said.
“Tell me, Adelaide, what you think—what you truly think.” His tone grew the slightest bit stronger. “I do not think I can bear to gain a wife only to have her staring at me wordlessly across the dinner table every night.”
She blinked. She couldn’t tell him, could she?
You are my wife, Adelaide. You do not need to fear voicing your true thoughts with me.
His words from their brief carriage ride echoed in her mind. Dared she make such a request? Offending a soldier did not seem to be a wise idea, but nor was endlessly distancing herself a viable path for long.
“Did you mean it,” she asked softly, slowly, “when you said that I can voice my true thoughts?”
“Certainly.”
Adelaide steeled herself. “Then I—I wish to sleep alone—tonight.”
She dropped her eyes, braced for his rage.
When five heartbeats passed with no words or blows hurled her way, she sneaked an upward glance.
Her new husband, so dashing at the altar, appeared almost grieved.
Surely, this was an insult he could never recover from.
Why did she even think she could make such a request?
But then he sighed, and with an inscrutable look about his brows, he muttered, “Very well.”
Adelaide nodded, narrowly avoiding thanking the man.
They ate the remainder of the meal in silence.