Chapter Two #2
“Thank you, but my mother has been an invalid since before my father’s death and is quite unable to travel.
My only other close relatives are my aunt, who looks after her, and my cousin, who acts as my deputy when I am absent from my estate.
” He shrugged. “Doubtless you will meet my acquaintances when we arrive in London.” The implication that his marriage was not important enough to invite them hung unspoken between them.
The rest of the drive passed in silence.
Mercifully, their duties at the reception precluded the need for more conversation between them.
Footmen served and removed the elaborate courses of the wedding breakfast, most of which she declined.
Thomas pressed her to join Papa’s toast to the guests with champagne, ignoring her whispered plea to use water instead.
Even the thought of drinking wine increased her headache.
“I prefer that Lady Rossburn refrain from drinking spirits today.” Her groom reached over from his place and turned her empty glass upside down on the table.
“Nonsense! Nothing like a champagne toast to liven up a dull gathering!” Her younger brother reached for her glass again, but his lordship did not move his hand.
“My wife declines champagne.” He accompanied the civil words with an icy stare.
Thomas backed down with an angry mutter.
Despite his words in the coach, she threw her new husband a grateful smile and picked up her water goblet.
The ice in his eyes melted for a moment.
A few minutes later he placed a small piece of broiled chicken on her plate along with a roll and a few pieces of steamed asparagus.
“This might sit better in your stomach.” He turned away immediately, but after a cautious nibble, she realized he was right. Nearly as high-handed as her parents, but right.
She lost count of the toasts offered over the course of the afternoon.
Thanks to his lordship’s intervention, she responded with water, gradually feeling better.
Still, the din of voices and music left her wishing to seek refuge in her room.
As the light outside the French windows in the ballroom turned to late afternoon gold, her mother quietly signaled that the time had arrived for her to slip upstairs and change out of her wedding gown.
She gulped. In all the preparations for the wedding ceremony, the fact that she would leave with Lord Rossburn had been often mentioned, but not dwelt on.
She opened the bedroom door to find her grandmother waiting along with her maid.
As they helped her out of the cream gauze gown and into her wrapper, she stared blindly at her reflection in the mirror.
Only after the maid rearranged her hair did she glance at her going-away dress. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“That’s not what Mama ordered.” She ran a wistful hand over a cerulean blue velvet polonaise. Her fingertips sank into the thick nap, relishing cool softness. The skirt consisted of layers of more velvet and matching taffeta, draped into a bustle.
“I ordered it from Mr. Worth on the sly.” The old woman’s eyes sparkled wickedly. “I figured as much as your mother ordered, nobody would notice one more.” Diantha could not help but smile in spite of her pounding heart.
At last Granny dismissed the woman and took her hands.
“Well, Dina, you’re facing what comes to every woman that marries.” Her gaze took in Diantha from head to toe before settling on her face. Meeting the old woman’s eyes, a faded version of her own, the girl nodded, unsure what to say.
Somewhat to her surprise, the old woman dropped her hands and paced a few steps away before facing her. “This moment is difficult enough even when you’re leaving your family for a man or a marriage you want.”
“You’re the only one I’ll miss here.” She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as she had blurted the truth out. To her relief, Granny did not scold her.
“The way you’ve been hemmed in all your life, that’s hardly a surprise.
” The old woman’s voice turned wistful as she moved to the four-poster bed.
“You know, I was madly in love with your grandfather when we married. It didn’t last, though.
I found I couldn’t respect a man who ran through the fortune he did, and I raised my daughter to take a far more practical view of matrimony. ”
She fidgeted with the fringe on the bed curtain, still averting her eyes.
“It was a terrible mistake. Your mother married for money, and while she’s never regretted it, you and your brothers have all suffered because of it.
They grew up into hard, selfish men.” She turned and patted Diantha’s cheek.
“You’ve been spared that, thank God, but you were never allowed to be alive like your mother and I were. ”
The girl winced as the wrinkled hands dropped and bit into her flesh under the fashionable dress. They loosened instantly, but her grandmother kept her gaze locked on her face.
“You may not want this marriage, Diantha, but I tell you, the man you’ve married is three times the man your grandfather was and your father is.” The rheumy blue eyes darkened. “You have a chance to find happiness, Dina. Take it.”
An angry sob escaped the girl. “How? How, Granny? The man despises me! I bribed the servants to find out about him.”
The gray brows rose. “Clever of you, my dear. How did you get the money?”
“I bet James that Tom would get drunk at Mrs. Stewart’s ball. But that’s beside the point! I found out that his—his—” She took a deep breath. “His mistresses have all been great beauties. With dreadful reputations, but clever.”
She waited for Granny to ring a peal over her for speaking of a class of women she should not even know of.
Instead the old woman gave a crack of laughter.
“Of course, he has other women.” Diantha gaped at the blunt words.
If Mama ever found out about this conversation, she would have a spasm.
“My girl, a man picks out a mistress for the same reason he picks a suit of clothes. He wants something that looks good on him, and he changes them just about as often as he does his coat.” She stared hard at her granddaughter.
“We’re wives, not strumpets. A wife has a permanent place in her husband’s life and his home, and this gives her what little power she’s got. ”
“It’s not fair.” Tears rose to her eyes as she muttered the words.
“Fair or not, that’s the path open to us.” A hand lifted her chin. Her grandmother’s face softened under her regard. “I’d like to see you make more of it than your mother and I did.”
Diantha sniffled, then pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. “I’d rather find a different path.”
A sly smile tugged at the corner of the old woman’s mouth.
“You’ve got more heart and common sense than both your parents combined—maybe you will.
” Briskly, she turned to gather up an elegant paletot and bonnet obviously designed to match the dress.
“But not in the next quarter of an hour. Your mother’s expecting you downstairs. And your husband.”
The girl clutched at the wrinkled hands. “Granny, I’m scared.”
“I know. But the realities of married life aren’t the horrors they’re made out to be.”
As her grandmother embraced her, Diantha wondered if she referred to the mysterious conjugal duties that ladies were not permitted to speak of. They involved a bed, she gathered, and some of her friends described them as very pleasant. But they had not specified the mechanics involved.
“Don’t forget about your old granny after you cross the ocean, will you?” Despite her sharp manner, the withered lips trembled and her voice broke.
Diantha swallowed a lump in her own throat and forced herself to smile. “Don’t be silly, you know I won’t.”
They gripped each other tightly on that last walk from her room to face the crowd waiting to see them off.
At the head of the stairs, that disorienting sense of unreality descended once again.
Her mother’s artificial smile matched those of the guests crowding the foyer below.
Diantha got the distinct impression that they wanted the bride and groom gone so they could return to the ballroom for more dancing.
“What are you doing in that ensemble?” Her mother hissed the words as she brushed each cheek with cool lips. “I selected the blush pink serge for you to leave in.”
Her grandmother sniffed. “That pink monstrosity you picked makes Dina look like an overblown rose. This is a gift from me.”
“Neither of you have the least idea of what is fashionable! Blush pink is the dernier cri, and Miss Fish wore a blue going-away dress just last month!” Diantha willed herself not to flush with shame. She would not miss her mother’s tirades. “How could you do this to me?”
“Fiddlesticks! She looks much prettier in this than that getup you ordered for her.” Mama’s face turned an alarming shade of red, but she bit her tongue in front of their guests. “And I imagine her husband thinks so too.”
Diantha twisted her neck to scan the crowd and instantly felt foolish. He waited for her at the bottom of the steps, one large hand resting on the marble banister. He stared at her with a surprised smile and she tamped down a flash of irritation. She wasn’t that plain, for heaven’s sake!
Her brow puckered as a vague image of telling him something about the carvings swam into her head. Odd, she must have dreamed it.
Even without the blush serge, she received all the appropriate compliments at the bottom of the stairs, including a kiss on her still ungloved hand from her husband.
She freed herself from his grasp, resenting the insincere demonstration.
Her mother fawned on his lordship one last time.
Some of her brothers’ friends shouted a few risqué remarks that left her cheeks burning.
Her father shook his new son-in-law’s hand without sparing Diantha a look. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the dock. Off you go.”