Chapter Six #2
‘I know this is hard,’ Edward said, his voice softening.
‘But you going below stairs will cause confusion—ruin the order of things here. I am not averse to you having a quiet friendship with a faithful servant, Bea, and I know Mrs Potter, Martha and Miss Linton have been a great help with our son. But now you are my wife, could you at least try to respect your new role and attempt to abide by the rules? Consorting with the staff in the kitchens is to be discouraged. People talk and you should know by now, I hate gossip. Rumours can cause no end of damage, even if they are untrue.’
She nodded. ‘I fear this is going to take some adjustment.’
‘For all of us,’ he said. ‘Now, I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Let us go to dinner.’
‘I have not yet changed.’
‘You look perfect as you are.’
Seated opposite Edward at the elegant dining table, Bea wasn’t sure she would ever get used to being served, as their first course of white soup and bread was placed before them. She itched to help with the plates or pour drinks. She almost felt redundant, being waited on.
Her belly had been growling with hunger, but now, sitting across from Edward in the flickering candlelight, a fire crackling in the hearth, an intimacy surrounded them, and jitters filled her stomach.
She was unsure she could eat a thing. She was so aware of his eyes on her and the way his large hands held his glass, raising it to his lips every so often.
It reminded her of when they had shared a drink before, at the inn, but this time, they had an audience.
Footmen dressed in livery stood at the doors, watching on, waiting to fulfil their every need.
Bea was excruciatingly aware every word spoken between them could be heard, and each look, every gesture, felt scrutinised.
She picked up her spoon and tried to sip her soup demurely, as Miss Linton would have wanted her to.
‘Will you tell me about your mill?’ she said quietly. ‘I am so glad you went ahead and bought it, Edward.’
He inclined his head. ‘I have been meaning to thank you for persuading me to do it. If it had not been for you and your words of encouragement, I might not have done.’
‘Mrs Potter told me you have made a great success of it.’ She took a glance at the staff. ‘Was it so very frowned upon, like you thought?’
‘Yes, at the beginning. But I kept my head down and worked hard. When it started to prosper, opinions gradually began to change. People started to show more interest. Not my father though. I do not think he will ever want to hear about it.’
She had surmised as much. But she did—she wanted to know every detail, especially as she had been privy to his ambition from the start. ‘What exactly do you do there?’
‘Inspect operations, manage accounts, meet suppliers.’ She noticed he spoke animatedly when he talked about it.
‘You enjoy it,’ she said, smiling.
‘Yes. Very much. I am proud of the designs of the fabrics we make—I should like to use some of the wall coverings here at Longwood, and the linen, to update some of the chambers. If you have an eye for art and design, perhaps you could help me with this project.’
Did he really mean to involve her in his plans? She could scarcely believe it. ‘I would like that,’ she said, taking a sip of her wine. ‘Thank you.’
She found she was eager to learn more about him, greedy for knowledge of how he spent his days and who with.
She was intrigued—and concerned—how he thought she and Thomas would fit into that routine.
Staring at his handsome face she wondered about his nights.
Her stomach clenched. Would there be many balls and assemblies as he’d told her about before?
Or would there be evenings when he left her here while he went into the city. Who would he go there to see?
She knew there had been women before her—he was too experienced for there not to have been, but had there been many since?
She instantly tried to crush the thought.
She did not want to think about it. It made her feel queasy that he would do the intimate things he’d done with her with any other woman.
She was aware of the silence between sentences and was glad when Edward spoke again. ‘My father has demanded I step away from the mill for a while. He said it was a necessity once this Season started. Now we are wed though, I am unsure. I know he wishes for me to sell it if I become Duke.’
Bea’s spoon halted in mid-air, the food not reaching her mouth.
If. She had a feeling that it would happen sooner than Edward had ever thought possible, and her own apprehension swirled—for him, and also what that would mean for her.
She would have to pay better attention in Miss Linton’s lessons.
‘Surely you would not give up the mill, after all you have achieved?’
‘There is pressure to focus on our estate.’ He lowered his glass and leaned in. ‘Why, do you not think I should?’
‘It is something you have built. Something you love. I do not see why you would want to give it up. Plus, wouldn’t it mean surrendering your independence? If you want to, you must continue with it, Edward.’
He studied her thoughtfully.
The soup was followed by roasted venison in a rich, silky gravy served with vegetables lavishly dressed in butter sauce.
It was placed before her by the staff in hushed reverence, impeccably timed, and she smiled politely.
She picked up her cutlery, hoping she wasn’t breaching any kind of etiquette, and cut up the tender meat, popping a forkful in her mouth.
She chewed it carefully. Edward’s eyes dipped to her lips as the peppery heat tingled on her tongue and she shut her eyes for just a moment, savouring it.
‘Is that good?’ he asked.
‘So good,’ she said. She lowered her voice in an effort to exclude the serving staff. ‘Although I am not used to there being spectators while I dine.’
He glanced around them at the staff, as if he hadn’t even been aware of their presence.
‘From now on, you will have to get used to being the focus of attention, having to put on a show. Everything you do in public will be examined and dissected. It is something I’ve had to suffer my whole life.
’ He grimaced. ‘Which reminds me, I have been informed that a few acquaintances of mine will be paying us a visit on the morrow.’
Her heart lurched. ‘So soon?’
‘Yes, they wish to extend their congratulations. When they heard about our marriage they insisted on coming at once. They are my closest friends and very keen to meet you.’
She put down her cutlery. She wondered how she would be perceived.
‘They should be a sympathetic crowd for your first performance,’ he added.
A prickle of apprehension swirled in her stomach.
She wasn’t ready to be measured by Society’s strict standards, even if these people were Edward’s friends.
She felt as if she was standing behind the curtain before it was raised, her doubts taking centre stage.
What would they make of her? She could tell they were important to him; that this first meeting mattered.
She didn’t want to let him down. ‘How do you know them?’
‘We met at Oxford. We have been constant companions ever since. They will be bringing their wives.’
Their empty plates were swept away and jellies and trifle, custards and tarts were laid before them.
Despite feeling full, Bea’s mouth watered at the delicious display.
She popped a spoonful of trifle in her mouth and the luscious, smooth cream felt decadent on her tongue, the delicate fragrance of the strawberries awakening all her senses.
‘Try one of these,’ Edward said, offering her a plate. She studied the sweets that decorated it. They were moulded into little shapes, like edible art.
‘What are they?’
‘They are marzipan. A delicacy made of almonds, sugar and rose water.’
She took one and put it in her mouth and her eyes widened. He watched as she bit into it.
‘Well?’
She nodded her appreciation, bringing her hand up to cover her lips as she spoke. ‘Oh my God,’ she said through her full mouth, forgetting herself for just a moment.
He grinned. ‘I do not think I have ever met a woman who is as passionate about food as you are.’
She took a sip of her wine, swallowing down the remnants of the sweet treats, and their gazes lingered over the candlelight. She had felt the anticipation building between them all day. The unspoken acknowledgement that this was their wedding night and a coil of heat shifted low in her belly.
‘My mother was the same,’ she said.
He sat back. ‘What was she like?’
‘Beautiful. Strong. She taught me how to survive. I miss her every day.’ She would never forget all that her mother had endured; the lengths her mother had gone to, to provide for her and to keep her safe.
She had felt the loss of her even more when she’d had Thomas.
She often wondered if her mother had held her and looked at her in awe as she did her son, knowing she would do anything for him.
She wished she could see her one last time.
To introduce her to Thomas. To ask her for advice on her current situation.
Although her guidance had so quickly been pushed aside before when faced with this man and his potent seduction.
She would not discard it so easily the next time—if there was a next time—because she had learned her lesson.
As if she’d woken Thomas by thinking of him, Mrs Potter hesitantly knocked and entered the room. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but Thomas is awake, and we are struggling to soothe him,’ she said. ‘You asked us to inform you if he seemed distressed.’
‘He’s probably unsettled, being somewhere new again,’ Bea said to Edward, placing her napkin onto the table and rising to her feet. ‘I had better go and check on him.’
‘But you have not finished your dessert.’