Chapter Five
Lucy’s patience was nearly spent. She had sat through four nights of Society functions waiting for Reed to rush to her side and declare he couldn’t bear to be away from her another moment.
She had even seen him at most of the gatherings, but he never said so much as a word to her.
He smiled and made friendly conversation with any number of people then left without ever noticing her.
She stepped into her parents’ sitting room, where her mother and sister-in-law Amelia bent over their needlework, discussing someone’s choice of gown the evening before.
“This is not working,” Lucy declared with all the authority a youngest child could manage.
“Nonsense, dear,” Mother said. “Our embroidery is coming along nicely.”
“Not the embroidery.” Surely her family had noticed her dilemma. “This plan we’ve concocted to remind Reed how lonely and miserable he was as a bachelor so he’ll come running back to me and declare he’ll never neglect me again. That is not working.”
Mother looked at her over her needlepoint. “Why in heaven’s name do you think that?”
Lucy looked from one of them to the other. Surely they weren’t so blind as to have not noticed the lack of results their scheme had produced.
“Reed is living as a bachelor and couldn’t be more pleased about it,” she explained.
“I have never seen him look happier at a ball or musicale as I have these past few nights. He pokes his head in, chats amicably with a few people here and there then gladly leaves with his cronies, no doubt to spend the night at their club. He’s gleeful. ”
Mother and Amelia exchanged knowing looks.
“Clarissa said Lucy’s determination was flagging,” Amelia told Mother.
As Clarissa was not currently present, Lucy could only assume her “determination” had been a previous topic of discussion among them.
“This is not a question of determination,” Lucy insisted. “I miss my husband. I miss seeing him each day and talking to him. That isn’t a bad thing. I love him enough to have married him, after all. Wishing he were with me is to be expected.”
“Of course it is,” Mother said, but she didn’t sound as if she actually agreed.
“He may not like to attend balls and soirees and such, or perhaps he doesn’t like attending them with me— he has, after all, made more appearances at social events these past few days than in the weeks prior— but I would rather have his company quietly at home or doing something he enjoys than to not have it at all. ”
Amelia gave her a commiserating look. “And are you prepared to make that sacrifice every day for the rest of your life? You would be telling him that his preferences are the only consideration in your marriage.”
“But by staying away, aren’t I insisting that my preferences are the ones that must be bowed to?”
“Come sit, dear.” Mother patted the space beside her on the sofa.
Lucy sat beside her, feeling more confused and frustrated and tired than she had in some time.
Nothing about this Season had gone as planned.
She longed for Reed’s company. She missed the little gestures of kindness she received from him—his arm when she walked, the way he adjusted her wrap when they were out, their shared excitement over antiquities and ices. She missed his smile and his laughter.
Mother set aside her embroidery. “Reed has been in consultation with your father and Robert and Charles.” She made that fact sound like a terribly ominous thing. “They realize we mean to teach Reed a lesson in valuing his wife, and they mean to teach us a lesson in return.”
“What lesson is that?” The only thing the past week had taught Lucy was that being a wallflower as a debutante was not as miserable as being a wallflower as a married lady. The former was disheartening, while the latter was simply heartbreaking.
Amelia, sitting in a chair facing them on the sofa, leaned forward.
“The gentlemen mean to show us that we are the ones who cannot live without them, that we are more miserable in their absence than they are in ours. They are determined to prove that we will give over first and go running back to them, begging for their company. To make us admit that we miss them when they are gone.”
Mother nodded her agreement with Amelia’s explanation.
“But I don’t know that I can live without him,” Lucy said. “What is so wrong with telling him so?”
“And deal a blow to ladies everywhere?” Amelia scoffed. “No, dearest sister-in-law. Your victory in this battle will give hope to your fellow wives. You will be a revered warrior.”
“‘A revered warrior’? How utterly ridiculous. I only wanted Reed to take me to balls and such. When did this turn into a war?”
Mother waved off the question. “When? Adam and Eve, darling.”
Lucy felt unaccountably exhausted. “How much longer do I have to keep ‘teaching Reed a lesson?’ This has been a long week for me. I don’t get to go home to my husband as you do.
I am alone every night and every morning and most of the day.
I haven’t danced at any balls, nor have I had the man I love to whisper with at the theater.
Your endurance may be endless with those things buoying you up. But mine is quickly running out.”
“Do not fret,” Mother said, retaking her embroidery. “The tide will turn tonight. We have it all in hand. You’ll see.”
***
That night, Lucy watched her mother and sisters assume their positions at the ball and couldn’t help thinking that the undertaking rather resembled the positioning of troops on a battlefield.
Reed had arrived, flanked by the Harris men.
As they had during the past few evenings, the gentlemen quite obviously headed in the opposite direction of Lucy.
But the Harris ladies had anticipated the maneuver.
Mother was waiting for them. They were too far distant for Lucy to overhear their conversation, but she could easily guess at it.
Mother offered a greeting, doing a poor job of pretending to be surprised at having bumped into Reed.
He made some kind of polite reply, all the while glancing at his companions for some indication as to what he might do to counter the ladies’ strategic victory.
Before anyone could speak to the contrary, Mother had her arm threaded through Reed’s and was leading him rather forcibly in Lucy’s direction.
How utterly humiliating. All I wanted was for him to accompany me to Society functions, but here I am now watching him be bullied into even talking to me.
Reed reached her side a moment later. He wore the same vaguely polite expression he had at Mother’s at-home a week earlier. “Mrs. Stanthorpe.” The same emotionless greeting as before.
Oh, Mother. This had better be worth the heartache. “Mr. Stanthorpe,” she replied, as her female relations had advised her to.
“As luck would have it,” Mother said, “Our Lucy has this next set free. How fortuitous.”
Reed hesitated for just a moment. Would he truly turn down such a pointed request? “I—”
Father interrupted whatever Reed was about to say. “Oh, dear, ladies. I do believe Mr. Stanthorpe told me he didn’t mean to dance tonight.”
Lucy kept her gaze on her husband. “Is that true?”
“I...” His eyes darted to Father then to Robert and Charles gathered nearby. “I am not particularly in the mood for dancing, and it would be unfair in the extreme for a person to be forced to do something he did not care to do.” Something about the declaration felt practiced.
Reed has been in consultation with your Father and brothers. This, then, was what Mother meant. They were combatants. Indeed, Amelia and Robert seemed almost gleeful at the prospect of debating the topic.
“By that logic,” Amelia said, “a lady who does not care to be left at home evening after evening shouldn’t be forced to remain there by a husband who refuses to take her out.”
Robert answered his wife’s argument point by point. “Requiring a gentleman to undertake something he finds truly distasteful is hardly comparable to a lady spending a quiet evening at home.”
“Distasteful?” Amelia clearly objected to the word. “If you found squiring me about all these years so torturous, why did you even bother?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Robert answered. “I was never given the opportunity to stand up for myself and for husbands everywhere. But Reed here does. And I, for one, applaud him.”
Lucy looked to her mother. Was this truly the great victory she’d promised? This was “having it all in hand?”
Mother didn’t seem swayed in the least. “If Mr. Stanthorpe does not mean to dance, surely he would have no objection to taking a turn about the room. You would have been doing precisely that as it was.”
As far as logic went, that was rather watertight.
Reed made a nod and small bow of acknowledgment.
Lucy stood and took the arm he offered. They stepped away from her family, looking for all the world as though they were taking an unexceptional turn about the room.
Inside, however, Lucy was tangled mess of emotions.
She had missed him, missed him to the point of misery.
But he didn’t seem to have suffered at all in her absence.
She didn’t want to spend the remainder of her Season without him, but neither did she wish to dig up this old argument every summer, having to beg and plead for every outing.
She didn’t want them to bicker in public the way Amelia and Robert were, or secretly conspiring against each other the way her parents were.
She held more tightly to Reed’s arm, grateful for his presence even in her uncertainty.
He set his hand on top of hers. That light touch took her back a year to their courtship when that was all they were permitted.
Her heart pounded at the feel of his hand on hers.
Lucy settled herself into that fleeting connection, finding a wonderfully welcome helping of peace by having him at her side again.
He broke the silence between them. “We are having very fine—”
“Don’t you dare speak of the weather, Reed Andrew Stanthorpe.”
He abruptly stopped. His eyes pulled wide and his mouth hung the tiniest bit open.
She didn’t apologize for her vehemence, didn’t take back her words.
An entire week they’d been apart, not seeing each other, not speaking.
She would not endure a stilted and insincere conversation on topics neither of them cared the least about.
He seemed to fumble about for the right thing to say. “Weather is a commonplace topic between two people.”
She pulled her arm free, shaking her head in frustration. “We’ve not seen each other in a full week, yet you have nothing to say to me beyond ‘commonplace topics between two people’?”
“Lucy—”
“Either you are wounding me on purpose, or you really are utterly indifferent to me.” The thought brought a fresh threat of tears. “I had thought you were as miserable as I was, that you missed me as much as I missed you. But Mother was right. You didn’t. Not at all.”
“Lu—”
She couldn’t bear more empty words. Not caring that she was likely making something of a scene, Lucy hurried away toward the doors.
The Barringtons lived but a few doors from Lucy’s parents’ home, and therefore, she could return there without waiting for the carriage to be summoned.
The Barringtons’ butler insisted on sending a footman to accompany her.
Lucy didn’t object, but neither did she wait.
The footman caught up to her a moment later.
He accompanied her in appropriate silence, leaving her thoughts ample opportunity to turn and twist about.
Her parents’ butler opened the door to let her in and sent the Barringtons’ footman off.
Lucy was grateful the butler didn’t inquire after her early return. She had no desire to explain.
She rushed up the stairs and to her bedchamber. Tears flowed by the time she dropped, exhausted, onto her bed.
Their plan had seemed so ingenious at first: some time away would show Reed how much he really enjoyed their time together.
He would appreciate her company enough to be willing to take her to all the Society events she’d longed to attend.
Though she knew she would miss him, she’d thought he would come to his senses quickly, that they wouldn’t be apart for long.
And he doesn’t even care. He hasn’t missed me at all.