Chapter 28
Journey to Wales
The gentle rocking of the carriage was so soothing that both Winnie and Bridget had dozed off against the carriage pillows. But for Arabella, it was not enough. She simply sat there, watching the landscape shift beyond the window.
She looked at the world passing by, the endless green hills, the scattered houses in the distance, but she was not truly seeing any of it.
She took everything in without thought: the warmth of the sun filtering through the glass, the steady grinding of the wheels against the road, the soft, uneven snore of her sister.
She had not regretted her decision. Bridget had been right.
She needed to move forward. Going to Wales was, of course, an escape.
No matter what she chose to call it, she knew she was running away.
The problem was that not much else seemed to follow.
It felt as though her mind, her heart, and her soul had all been left behind in London.
“Where are we?” Bridget stirred awake.
She glanced out the window, and a smile blossomed across her face.
“Oh, this is truly beautiful,” Bridget said enthusiastically. “It seems that we have left London behind.”
Arabella nodded, unwilling to admit that she had left more than London behind.
“If the weather holds, it is going to be a splendid trip,” Bridget added.
Arabella tightened her smile and held on to her book that she had intended to read.
“Let’s hope, then, that the weather will hold,” Arabella answered, but just a tad late.
Bridget looked at her with a knowing smile. She knew that Arabella’s mind was elsewhere, but she decided not to comment. Arabella was grateful. She would hate to explain to Bridget why she was this absent-minded.
“Father says,” Bridget said in delight, “that grandmother’s house is beautiful. She even has a stable with horses, goats, and cows. Very rural and so very different from London.”
Arabella understood that her sister was anticipating exactly that: how different Wales must be from London, how little she would be reminded of him, of the man she lost. And Arabella was supposed to feel that same excitement of getting away. And yet she didn’t.
“What do you think, Arabella?” Bridget asked.
Arabella was so distracted she didn’t realize Bridget was still talking.
“Yes, of course, we shall see,” Arabella answered vaguely, unable to concentrate and contribute to her sister’s joy.
She let her talk and make plans and outline the future in this magical place where heartbreak does not exist. Arabella didn’t have the heart to tell her that most times grief tends to follow you until you decide to untangle yourself.
Perhaps it was too soon for Arabella to let go.
After all, it took Bridget three years to take the path to healing, and the man had only been a suitor.
Arabella couldn’t even calculate how long it would take her to dull this pain inside her.
Gerald was, after all, her husband; they had shared pleasure, kisses, and intimacy.
She looked out the window again and forced herself to really look at the open fields, to admire the early spring growth, to breathe the fresh air. She had the rare opportunity of claiming freedom without having to sacrifice means. But she felt none of it.
“You are not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Bridget asked.
“No, I do,” Arabella lied. “Grandmother’s house sounds exciting.”
“I was reciting random poetry to test you,” Bridget teased, “and it seems that it worked.”
“I am happy you’re finding me amusing,” Arabella said.
“I don’t find you amusing at all,” her sister went serious. “It is as if we switched personalities.”
Arabella couldn’t help but chuckle. She was not wrong. Usually, Arabella was the energetic one and Bridget a reluctant participant. How the tables had turned. And it was all because of him.
“Did you,” Bridget asked carefully, “send word to Gerald about this trip?”
Arabella’s body tensed even at the mention of his name. She tried to keep a neutral face, but she could tell from Bridget’s reaction that she was failing.
“No need,” Arabella said. “We are supposed to go our merry way, and that includes not bothering him with things that wouldn’t interest him.”
“So, you truly believe that Gerald wouldn’t care to know that his wife is leaving for Wales for the foreseeable future?”
Arabella didn’t want to believe that, but everything told her that it just might be so.
What he said was clear enough. He had congratulated her for her performance. He sang her praises on how well she pretended to be a devoted wife. And then he was so cold and detached, as if she were part of his staff. He even mentioned money between them.
The worst thing was that she still couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that she had imagined the whole thing. Was it all truly false? The way he comforted her? How he laughed with her? How he touched her like she truly mattered? That night in the maze... Was it nothing too?
How could all these be just a marriage of convenience? The jokes they shared, the banter, the teasing, and letting go together, perhaps they were not the same thing to him as they were to her.
“Bridget, I really do think that the Duke will not mind, let alone care, if I am in London or not. So don’t worry, we have all the time in the world in Wales to feed each last of our grandmother’s sheep.”
Arabella forced a smile on her face, and Bridget pretended to believe it was true. And just as Arabella settled back on her seat, watching the world outside distant and unreachable, the carriage jolted to a halt.
So sudden was that stop that she was almost catapulted across the carriage into her sister’s arms.
“What is the meaning of this? Have we hit something?” Bridget said and looked out the window.
Arabella was ready to do the same thing when she heard voices outside, men shouting at each other.
Her heart started racing, and her breath caught.
She knew that the roads were clear and safe, but you never truly knew what bandits might plague them.
She only had the driver with them, and she just realized that maybe she had taken too much of a risk on this trip.
The voices grew louder, and a demanding voice was heard, overlapping with the thundering tone of her driver. She still couldn’t tell what they were arguing about.
“Are these bandits?” Winnie panicked. “Are we going to be dragged away into their lair? You must run, Your Grace. I will do anything I can to distract them.”
Arabella was ready to calm her maid down when she heard one loud, clear voice, gruff and gravelly. Instantly, her heart skipped a beat, and her hands grew cold.
No, that couldn’t be. She was imagining things for sure. She had been in her head for too long for this whole trip, and now she was…
“Arabella!”
She stood absolutely still, while her sister and her maid looked at her with dread. And that was because they didn’t know that voice. She did. She had heard that voice in her ear, calling her name.
Gerald.
And yet she still couldn’t believe it. She was overcome with pure shock. But now she knew she was not imagining things.
“Arabella,” he called out again.
And now she was fighting with herself. The first thing that came into her mind was hope. Maybe he was here to stop her from going, or he wanted to tell her he missed her. But fear was a stronger opponent. It moved decisively inside her, taking over all ground. She could not give in to stupid ideas.
He was probably here because she was not allowed to go. It would look bad on him for his wife to abandon him and leave for Wales. Or there could be another occasion he would like to employ her, where she needed to play the devoted wife with her impeccable acting skills.
She placed a hand on the handle of the door. Bridget held her back, looking at her imploringly in the eyes.
“Everything is fine, Bridget,” she said with conviction. “It’s just Gerald.”
Her sister looked at Winnie just to make sure she had heard right, and then back to Arabella.
“Gerald? The Duke? Your husband is here?”
“I believe I recognize my husband’s voice,” Arabella said flatly.
“Do you have any idea why he might be stopping the carriage?” Bridget perked up.
“It is precisely the reason I am getting ready to get out and ask.”
“I see,” Bridget smiled.
“Why are you smiling? He’s probably here to drag me back to London because it doesn’t look good on him.”
“Or…” Bridget’s smile became even brighter.
Hope was a fickle mistress. Bridget didn’t get her own happy ending with a man that she had loved, and now she was trying to see other people have theirs. But how could Arabella explain to her that, more often than not, that was not the case?
Without saying anything else, Arabella opened the door and got out of the carriage.
“There you are!” Gerald appeared from the front of the carriage.
Arabella studied her husband. It had been mere days since she last saw him, and yet there was a great change in him. The one thing that was constant in how Gerald looked was that he had an impeccably composed appearance.
His clothes were never extravagant, but always sharp, expensive, well-pressed, and well put together. He never cared much about his appearance, but he made sure he was shaved and clean.
But the man who appeared before her, standing just a few feet away, was completely disheveled. His hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it again and again. He hadn’t bothered to shave today. The clothes on his body were randomly thrown on, his cravat was all wrong, his waistcoat open.
He looked at her from the top of her head down to her toes. His look was urgent, as if he were searching for injuries, anxious and serious. And when he found her in perfect health, he let out a sigh of relief and took one step closer.
“Your Grace,” she said formally.