Chapter 29
Lewis cleared his throat. Bridget set aside Northanger Abbey and rose to her feet. “Husband,” she said.
“Wife.”
Silence settled between them. Bridget resisted the impulse to fidget with her skirts, as her husband stared at her with what seemed to be judgment.
Her heartbeat quickened. Would they discuss her ill-thought encounter with the Dowager Duchess?
Bridget had spent the entire week and a half anticipating that confrontation.
“Would you like to accompany me today? I am heading across town to my grandmother’s townhouse and I thought you might enjoy the excursion,” Lewis announced.
Bridget’s jaw nearly dropped open. “Forgive me. I fear that I might have misheard you.”
“You did not. The carriage awaits us.”
Bridget furrowed her brow. “After my last encounter with her, you believe that I am suitable for visiting her again?”
“Yes.”
Bridget pursed her lips together. Even though Lewis never teased, unless it was with her body, she waited with bated breath for him to laugh and tell her that he had only been jesting. He did not.
“When?” Bridget asked.
“Now.”
He turned brusquely and walked from the room, Bridget hastening to keep pace with his long strides. “But why?” she asked.
“Because she wishes it,” Lewis said.
Bridget bit the inside of her cheek. The guilt from her first meeting hung from her shoulders like a stone weight, crushing and persistent. “How do I not upset her?” Bridget asked softly.
“You do your best,” he said shortly. “There is no guarantee that you will not upset her. My grandmother is unpredictable at the best of times. Change of any kind frightens her.”
It sounded like a dreadful way to live, Bridget thought. Change happened so often and so quickly, especially in the city.
The carriage had already been prepared. Soon, she was settled into her usual seat and faced with the inevitability of seeing the Dowager Duchess.
Bridget clasped her hands together so tightly that her knuckles ached.
On her last visit, she had terrified the poor woman.
This time, Bridget must be quite careful; that much was obvious.
However, she could not decide exactly what to do.
Lewis spoke like nothing she did would set his grandmother’s mind at ease.
How was Bridget meant to prepare for any confrontation with that knowledge?
She was going to fail, regardless of how hard she tried to be the perfect wife who would not disturb the Dowager Duchess’s routine.
“We have spoken at length about your proper introduction to her,” Lewis said. “She knows that you are coming with me today, and she is prepared to meet you.”
“You do not sound especially confident about this encounter.”
Lewis’s expression darkened. “You are not sufficiently trained as either a wife or a duchess, and I would feel better about this meeting if more time had passed.”
Bridget winced. He spoke those words with infuriating condescension, and she wanted to be furious. It was difficult to muster anger towards her husband when she remembered the Dowager Duchess’s fearful expression, however.
“Then, why am I meeting her today?”
“Because my grandmother insisted,” he said.
“And you agreed.”
It was not a question, as much as a statement of fact. Bridget had thought that her husband listened to no one, but evidently, he made exceptions for the Dowager Duchess.
“We shall see if my fears are for naught,” Lewis said.
“I hope they are.”
“We all hope they are.” Lewis glanced through the carriage window, his frown deepening as they arrived at the Dowager Duchess’s townhouse. “I have meant to speak to you about your first visit here.”
“I apologize,” Bridget said. “I should not have come here.”
“No,” he said. “But I also could have been more forthcoming with you about the situation. My grandmother has always had weak nerves. She must adhere to strict routines and can scarcely leave here house without being overcome with fear or melancholy. In recent years, it seems as though her condition has worsened, which is why I am so protective of her. I fear for her safety.”
Bridget blinked, a fissure of discomfort jolting through her. She would have never imagined that this man would apologize for anything, much less over something involving his grandmother, whom he clearly loved dearly.
Lewis cleared his throat. Maybe he was as uncomfortable with giving an apology as Bridget was with receiving one.
“I shall do my best to be a proper Duchess of Wheelton,” Bridget said. “I promise.”
And for the first time, she truly meant it. Bridget did not think for a moment that she was a perfect woman, but for the Dowager Duchess’s comfort, she would do her best to be.
They met the Dowager Duchess in the drawing room. Even before their greetings were exchanged, the Dowager’s brow had furrowed with worry. Lewis seated himself on the settee with his grandmother, leaving Bridget the vacant chair in the room. She sat, clasped her hands before her, and said nothing.
Bridget dared not even look at the woman, for fear of distressing her.
Instead, she cast her eyes about in quick, fleeting movements.
The Dowager Duchess’s slippers were quite nice; they appeared new.
Her lavender gown was tasteful and elegant.
She did not appear to be abused, not that Bridget really believed she had been.
Her husband loved his grandmother, who was distressed by change. Bridget dared lift her eyes a little more. The Dowager Duchess’s hands still shook, but she had calmed some since their arrival. Bridget had not ruined everything.
“I think you are precisely what Lewis needed.”
Then, the conversation ceased. Bridget started, only just realizing that the Dowager Duchess had directed the words to her. “Me?” she echoed.
At last, she met the Dowager Duchess’s eyes. The woman’s expression softened, as if she knew that Bridget was terribly anxious in her presence and sought only to make her feel better.
“Yes,” she said. “You have brought such light and life to Lewis. I have long thought that he needed someone just like you.”
How had the Dowager Duchess come to that conclusion when they barely knew one another? Bridget wanted to ask, but she did not. The woman’s smile told her that she was being sincere.
“He has changed, knowing you,” the Dowager Duchess continued.
Lewis let out a disbelieving laugh. “I have not changed in the short time that I have known Bridget.”
But he had. This man, her husband, had apologized to her.
And when Bridget thought about it, when she considered all their interactions, she realized that he did seem kinder than he had when they first wed.
She might have assumed that the differences stemmed from her learning more about him, but maybe he had changed.
“No,” Bridget said. “No, you have. I see it, too.”
The Dowager Duchess beamed at her. “Yes. He has become a better man by knowing you.”
“That is untrue,” Lewis said, sounding utterly baffled. “I am the same man that I always have been.”
The Dowager Duchess shook her head. “Why argue? You have become a better man. There is a lightness to you that was not there before, and I am pleased to see it.”
Lewis shook his head, his expression bemused. “I regret letting the two of you meet,” he said without any real heat. “You have chosen to create an alliance against me, and that is unfair.”
The Dowager Duchess cast a sly look at Bridget. “You let us meet? I believe we would have eventually met, even without your permission.”
Bridget smiled. The knot in her chest loosened a little. Even if their initial meeting had been disastrous, the Dowager Duchess had forgiven her for it. “Yes,” Bridget said. “We would have.”
Lewis shook his head. “Absurd.”
“It has been some time since I have had an alliance with another woman,” the Dowager Duchess mused. “We must see one another again, Bridget. I—I imagine that I shall enjoy your company immensely.”
“Really?”
The Dowager Duchess anxiously picked at her nails, which Bridget saw were torn and jagged. Was that a symptom of her ailment? Bridget forced her eyes away, concerned that the Dowager Duchess might notice her attention and become upset.
“Yes,” Her Grace said. “I shall. It will simply take some…time to become accustomed to you. I am determined to do it, though, even if it is difficult.”
“And it will be,” Lewis said.
“Yes,” the Dowager Duchess agreed. “Bridget, I ask that you be patient with me.”
Bridget nodded. “Of course, I will be.”
The Dowager Duchess smiled, her expression brittle. The clock chimed, heralding the new hour, and Lewis abruptly stood. “We must leave,” he announced. “Thank you for the visit.”
The ladies both rose to their feet, the Dowager Duchess offering a fond pat to Lewis’s arm. “Thank you, dear. I know you are very busy.”
Bridget curtseyed. The Dowager Duchess inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the gesture. Lewis offered his arm, and Bridget let her husband escort her from the room.
Once they were out of earshot, Bridget turned her head toward him. “Well?” she asked.
“It did not go badly,” Lewis said. “It could have been worse.”
“She trembled throughout the whole conversation.”
Lewis sighed deeply. “Yes. But that was a lesser concern. My grandmother’s melancholy is a peculiar ailment. She anticipates difficulties that may never arise.”
Bridget furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
They reached the carriage, and Lewis waved the waiting footman away. “I would prefer to walk home.” He paused and gave Bridget a hesitant look. “You are welcome to take the carriage if you like.”
There was some other meaning in his words, but Bridget could not quite decipher what it was. “I will continue with you,” she said instead.
“Very well.”
They walked alongside the road. It was not far to their townhouse, but walking would give her more time to speak alone with her husband. Once, Bridget would have dreaded having to walk with him and would have done anything to avoid him, but she had to concede that this was…pleasant.
“If we walk back to the townhouse, what is the worst thing that might happen?” Lewis asked.
“Do you imagine something bad might happen?”
“No,” he said. “I am trying to explain how my grandmother’s mind works. What is the worst misfortune that might feasibly befall us?”
Bridget pursed her lips together. The street in Mayfair was fairly pleasant, filled with happy couples and the odd carriage.
She supposed that some of the cobblestones were loose, which made riding a little tumultuous at times; Mayfair’s roads were nothing compared to other places in London, though.
It looked peaceful and perfect. Even the sky was cloudless and bright.
“It is difficult to imagine any misfortune befalling us,” she said.
“I know. Try, though.”
Bridget wrinkled her nose, thinking. “I suppose I might fall over a loose cobblestone.”
“Reasonable,” Lewis said. “What else?”
“I might…” She trailed off, considering. “I suppose there might be a carriage accident.”
“Do you find that very likely?”
“Not especially. I fear that I am not very good at this. I do not often imagine that misfortune will befall me.”
“Many people do not. That is where my grandmother is different. She worries to excess,” Lewis explained.
“She would look at this same street and imagine every misfortune that might occur and many that could not possibly transpire, and those fears would haunt her endlessly. The poor woman is a prisoner to her thoughts, unable to do anything except linger on them repeatedly.”
Bridget inhaled sharply. “How horrid!” she exclaimed. “To not even…to not even enjoy a day as beautiful as this one without being frightened!”
“Yes,” Lewis replied grimly. “And yet she cannot.”
“She must be so, so lonely,” Bridget murmured. “So frightened all the time.”
“She is,” Lewis agreed. “But I think that you might be good for her. She likes you.”
“I am surprised to hear you admit that.”
He laughed wryly. “Well, I can understand why. The truth is that I have underestimated you, though. I shall not make that error again.”
Bridget smiled. “You are learning and changing, no matter how much you might wish to deny it.”
Lewis shook his head. “And deny it I shall.”
“I will persuade you to believe me,” Bridget said.
He chuckled. “We shall see, my wife. If anyone is capable of that, it will be you.”