Chapter 31 #2
How to put it delicately? Abigail was a happily married woman.
It was no secret she loved her husband, and the feeling was entirely mutual.
She had only met the earl once, and briefly, but the love and devotion he felt for his wife was abundantly clear.
She might not understand how Nathaniel and she could be equally in love and yet be unable to live happily together.
“We have resumed our marital activities,” she said and looked down as heat crept up her face.
“But we have not decided about the future of our marriage. I don’t think I’m suited to being the wife of a lord.
I already tried once and failed miserably.
We were both miserable. It was what tore our marriage apart.
After our last time together, I told him I couldn’t go back to being his wife, among other awful things. He hasn’t returned home since.”
At Abigail’s silence, Alice peeked up to see if she had finally scandalized the countess. But Abigail was not scandalized. She was smiling.
“Alice, are you telling me you thoroughly bedded your husband and then sent him on his way?”
She nodded, half of her mouth twisting in a bitter smile. “Worse. I offered to continue our intimacies, but without…being his wife.”
A chuckle burst out of Abigail, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to contain it. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny, dear. This is your life, and I’m sure it feels awful. But I can’t help but laugh at the idea that you basically offered to be your own husband’s paramour.”
Alice leaned back in her chair, bringing her glass of wine to her lips. “Go ahead and laugh. I know it’s ridiculous. But I don’t see any other way. Nathaniel and I… We love each other. We really do. But his current life doesn’t suit me. I can’t be a lord’s wife.”
“What makes you think that you can’t?”
“I just can’t. It’s not who I am.”
“Do you mean you can’t, or you won’t?” At her stricken expression, Abigail went on. “Would you rather be without him than try to adapt to his new circumstances?”
“No. Of course not. I don’t want to live without him. That’s why I offered to… Well, to be his mistress, basically.”
“Only you know what’s in your heart. I can’t tell you what to do.
But I can tell you my story. When I met Colin, my husband, I was a poor widow living as his stepmother’s companion.
He had just inherited his title and returned from abroad after years in exile.
He needed a wife to provide him with an heir.
I was there, and we got along well, so he proposed a marriage of convenience.
I would give him an heir, and he would give me…
Well, security, position. And freedom. After giving him an heir, I could live independently if I so chose. I thought that would be appealing.”
Abigail looked down at her hands and traced a ring of moisture on the table.
“You see, I was badly mistreated in my first marriage, so I needed to know I had an escape. But those emotional wounds kept me from truly opening myself to my husband. Yes, I was sharing my body with him, as per the agreement, but I tried to withhold my heart, my passion. I thought it would be enough. But it wasn’t.
Without us realizing it, we had fallen in love with each other.
But my fear kept me from showing my love to my husband.
His own fears made him feel unlovable and caused many problems in our relationship.
We were both miserable. Letting go of our fear, exposing our wounds, wasn’t easy.
It wasn’t comfortable. But it was the only way to make space for love and a happy marriage. ”
“I appreciate you sharing your story with me, my lady. But I don’t have any wounds. Nobody mistreated me. I just wasn’t born an aristocrat. It’s not something I can change about myself. It’s who I am.”
“Are you sure about that?” Abigail asked gently.
“About not being an aristocrat?”
“About not having wounds. Wounds come in all manners. Some are physical. Some are emotional. Some are so deep that they have almost become part of us. Almost like an unseen fracture at the core of our being. We never show them, do we? Often, we are not even aware of how wounded we are. Because we compensated and adapted. We did it to protect ourselves, to survive, and we think that we are healed when all we have done is cover the wound. So I ask you, Alice, who wounded you so badly that it made you believe you are not capable of being the wife your husband needs?”
Alice stared at the countess—her sister—stricken.
How had this woman she had known so briefly been able to decipher her so thoroughly?
How had Abigail discovered what she, herself, had failed to realize?
She, who could read people like an open book, was blind to the fatal flaw at the core of her being.
“I-I don’t know. Maybe no one in particular.
Or maybe everyone, in one way or another.
I’ll have to think about it. I thought it was a strength on my part to be aware of my shortcomings and act accordingly.
Even if sometimes it was difficult. Even when it hurt so much that it was difficult to breathe.
At least I believed I was doing the right thing.
I never thought I might be protecting myself. ”
“That is the tricky thing about wounds. They disguise themselves as virtues. Just remember, just because it makes you happy, doesn’t mean it’s bad. Just because it was true in the past, doesn’t mean it will be true in the present, or in the future.”
“Thank you, my lady. I’m glad you came.”
“Of course, my dear. You would never have approached me otherwise, would you?”
Alice shook her head, then looked down. She knew Abigail didn’t mean it as a reproach, but she felt it like one.
She was shutting people out of her life.
People who might like to get closer to her.
“I hope you realize it was not because of you. I knew you through our work in The Ladies’ Lair, and I liked you.
I didn’t want you to have reason to think less of me. ”
“I know. That’s why I took the first step. Now, I want you to believe that we can be friends. That you may call on me whenever you wish.”
“I will. Our conversation made me realize how much I need friends. I am not always so standoffish, I promise. Sometimes I have made the effort, and it hasn’t been well received.”
“Who? Think about those. That might be the key to your wound.”
“Your father,” Alice blurted out before she could think better of it.
“John asked me to accompany him to visit the marquess. He wanted to introduce me to him. The old man looked at me with such indifference. Disdain, even. He advised John not to associate with me. As if I were some plague-ridden pest that was going to contaminate his precious heir.”
Abigail made a moue of disgust. “My father—our father, although I understand why you would not wish to acknowledge him as such—is a cold, hard man who never had much respect for women. If it makes you feel any better, he didn't have much love for me either. As a daughter, I was of very little value to him. He allowed me to marry my first husband, a contemptible man, when I was little more than a girl. I won’t say he forced me, because force wasn’t necessary.
I was so starved for affection that I mistook that cad’s attention for love.
But my father knew him better. He must have known his character.
And he didn’t protect me. When I was widowed and destitute, I didn’t return to my father’s home.
I took refuge with Esther, the previous Countess of Hartfield.
And thank God for her. In her home is where I met my husband. ”
Alice’s attention caught on that. She’d had a vague notion but had not realized Esther—Mrs. Wang now—had been the previous countess.
“Did Esther ever resent you for replacing her as Lady Hartfield?”
“No, because she’s a lovely woman. Generous and kind. But I did feel like an impostor for a while. Worrying about offending her or making her feel replaced. But we worked it out, because we are friends and truly care for one another.”
“My mother-in-law is not so lovely. Nor does she care much for me.”
“Ah! That might make the situation much more difficult. But that is her fault, not yours. Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve your place.”
“Thank you, Abigail. Your presence, your words…they really mean a lot to me. You have helped me more than you realize.”
Abigail smiled widely, a smile that lit her face. She really was as kind as she was beautiful. How lucky she was to have her as a friend—as a sister. And to think that she would have given that up because she felt undeserving.
What else would she be giving up if she didn’t discard her fears?
The answer filled her with panic.
Everything.