Chapter 12
In the second between Beatrice leaving the riverbank and her feet hitting the water, Owen saw the most frightening things.
He pictured her landing incorrectly, or hitting her head, and not coming to the surface. He thought of her not being able to swim back somehow, and the current dragging her under no matter how weak it was.
He chased after her, calling her name as she laughed mockingly and bounded away, but he could not catch her in time. She hit the water with a splash, her gown certainly ruined and her head submerged.
He came to a halt at the edge, willing her to surface again.
He wanted desperately to dive in after her, but he had not seen where she had gone exactly, and he needed to be certain before he followed her.
The few seconds felt like days, but then at last she came up, breathing heavily and laughing at him.
“Do you see?” she asked brightly. “There is no harm to be done.”
“Get out of there,” he ordered, but she did not seem to take him seriously.
“Come now, Owen. I know that you might not think it too wise, but–”
“Get out,” he repeated, and her smile faded.
She remained frozen for a moment, clearly shocked that he had raised his voice at her, but he had not been able to stop himself.
She had been willful and directly disobeyed him, and he did not know what she expected to happen.
He would not be so inclined to forget everything that had happened simply because she told him to. It was not possible.
Eventually, she swam to the edge and pulled herself out. She laid on her back in the grass and the sun shone gaily upon her. It would not take long for her to dry, but that did not matter to Owen. He wanted to return home, and the wait while she dried was going to be agony.
“Why did you do that?”
“To show you that there is no harm in it. You saw those small children. It is not dangerous.”
“It only takes one wrong move, Beatrice. If those people wish to risk those around them, that is for them to decide. I will not allow that for myself, nor you. Come, we will return home.”
“I can hardly walk through the village like this. Whatever will the people think?”
“You should have considered that before doing something so foolish. You have brought shame upon the both of us, not only yourself.”
He began to walk away, and after a moment he heard her following him.
He could hear the water dripping on to the ground, and in the corner of his eye he could see her curls loosened from being wet.
He had to return home with her quickly, so that she did not become ill; he was angry with her, but that did not mean he wanted her to suffer at all.
Fortunately, he knew a path that avoided the village.
Within ten minutes, they had returned to the carriage and were on their way home again.
Owen was furious with his wife, for she had ruined what had been an excellent outing.
He had planned to take her to a local inn for dinner, but he could not do so with her in such a state, and so that idea would have to wait.
He did not say as much, though because he could see the tears in her eyes and did not want to make her feel worse.
“I did not mean to anger you,” she whispered after they had been traveling in silence for a while. “I just thought that-”
“You were not thinking. I told you that I did not like it, and I told you why. You chose to disrespect me, and no matter what your reason was it was unfair. I did not deserve that, Beatrice.”
Silence fell again, and when they returned home, she walked away from him, straight to her room.
“Ensure she has a bath,” he told Mrs. Forsythe.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I do not dare repeat it, lest I anger myself again. I am going to my study for a while. Cook will have to prepare dinner for us after all.”
His housekeeper simply nodded, then turned to follow Beatrice upstairs.
Owen, meanwhile, took himself away to his study and sat at his desk in silence, his face in his hand.
They had been getting along so well, and she had ruined it.
From what he had heard, she was a quiet lady, one who hardly ever spoke her mind, but that had not been his experience with her at all.
He thought that she was foolish and willful, unable to keep her thoughts to herself, and when she wanted to make herself known she did so at any cost. It was a trait that unnerved him greatly, for it meant that she would gladly put herself in danger again, which he could not risk.
He took a deep breath and tried to remember how she was feeling.
It was understandable that she was acting out of sorts; in the space of a few years, each of her friends had been married off and left her behind.
When she made another friend, Lady Helena, that friend ran off too.
She had not been able to forge bonds that lasted, and that was enough to drive anyone mad.
It was not helped by the fact that she had parents who pointed out her every flaw whenever they could.
She was lonely and without prospects, and that was more than enough reason to change completely.
Even so, he wished that she would listen to him. He was her husband, and in spite of what she expected of men he was not going to lead her astray. The rules that he had were for her sake, and all that she had to do was respect them. He did not think that was too difficult.
An hour later, he heard her door close firmly. He could hear muffled voices and quick footsteps, and it was enough to draw him out of his study to listen.
“You need only give him a chance,” Mrs. Forsythe explained. “It may seem as though he is doing this without reason but believe me that is not the case.”
“So you said before, but unless I know those reasons I cannot always behave as he thinks best. Nobody seems to have any answers for me; they just say that that is how it is and expect me to accept it. Well, I do not. I cannot sit and simper while my husband dictates my every move.”
“His Grace wishes to keep you safe.”
“It was a river, and it was only just deep enough for me to swim in to begin with. I was hardly in peril.”
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Forsythe said gently, “I understand that you are not happy with the Duke, but please try to understand that he is only doing what he thinks is best. It has been a long time since he was tasked with taking care of someone, and it will take a while for him to adjust.”
Owen’s breath hitched in his throat. His housekeeper had said too much, but he could not interrupt them; it would only make matters worse.
“What do you mean?” he heard Beatrice ask. “Who did he care for before? His parents?”
He bit his lip, hoping that Mrs. Forsythe would keep to the rules, because he simply could not discuss the truth with his wife yet. He hoped that he would never have to.
“He… he cared for his mother before she passed,” she replied at last. “She was difficult in her final months, and His Grace had to be strict with her. He will soften, but he needs time.”
Owen let out his breath, leaning against the wall and thanking his housekeeper for her quick thinking. He would not punish her in any way, for she had only been trying to help, but he hoped that she would learn from this experience.
“Well, I suppose you are right,” Beatrice replied, but by that point they were too far away for him to hear what they were discussing any further.
What mattered was that she had found an understanding, as had he. He would seek her out before dinner and settle their differences, but in the meantime he had a thought, one that he wished he had sooner. He entered his study again, taking out his stationery and penning three letters.
He addressed each to his wife’s friends, not saying too much but telling them that he wanted to invite them to stay for a few days. Their children were welcome, and it was for Beatrice’s sake. He ensured that they did not worry about her, but he made it clear that she was missing her companions.
At least, that was what he hoped was the case. If it were not, then it meant she was being deliberate in her choice to disobey him.
When enough time had passed that he knew dinner would be soon, he left the room, handing his letters off to be delivered.
He searched for his wife and found her in the parlor room with a book.
Suddenly, his words left him and all he could do was sit near her, waiting for her to acknowledge him, and for a while she did not.
“If you want me to leave,” she said at last, “I will do so. You need only say the word, for I know better than to disobey now.”
“Beatrice, I apologize for the way I spoke to you. It was wrong of me to be so coarse.”
“It was,” she replied, eyes not leaving her page. “You do many things that I do not agree with, and yet I do not raise my voice.”
“You were not listening to me.”
“And you were not listening to reason,” she snapped, closing her book and placing it in her lap.
“I am not going to have this same discussion with you repeatedly. I knew what I was doing, and I will not be treated like a child when I am not one. I am entrusted with the running of a household. I can be trusted to swim three feet.”
Once again, there was that passion that was seemingly only reserved for him. He should have been infuriated by it, but all that Owen could think was how pretty she looked when she blushed in her fury.
“I understand,” he replied. “It will not happen again.”
She picked up her book again, finding her page.
“If I may,” he continued, “and do not think that I am being unkind, might I ask you if you miss your friends?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he had apologized and admitted his wrongdoing and so she had no real need to be angry with him any longer. This time, when she closed her book, she placed it on a table beside her and folded her hands in front of her.
“I miss them every day,” she sighed. “They were all that I had for a long time, and when I saw them at our wedding it was as though nothing had changed, but of course everything had. I am as like them as ever now, and yet that distance is still there.”
“What do you mean by distance?”
“If I tell you, do you promise not to be angry with me?”
“I will not be angry.”
“Very well. I am a duchess but not like them at all. I do not have a husband who loves me, nor children that I hold affection for. I do not host lavish events and take care of my family.”
“That is to be expected, is it not? We have been married but a short time.”
“Which is precisely my point. I have been living this way for more than a week, not years like they have. They always wanted more for me, but I think they had resigned to fate the way I had. I was not supposed to be someone’s wife.”
“Have you always thought so lowly of yourself?”
The question caught her off guard, and she adjusted her position in clear discomfort.
“I suppose that I have. I was not raised to believe that I was anything special, and that was bound to affect me. My friends always refused to believe it, and they tried to convince me that I was deserving of love and marriage and all those splendid things, but I knew the truth.”
“Why did you not listen to them?”
“Because I could not. You are much the same. You have thought things for years, since your mother died it would seem, and my telling you that it is untrue does not change that. It is the same with my friends. My father– my father always told me that I was unworthy of a match, though he would never elaborate, and that is what remained with me. My friends, who had to be kind to me, could not fix that simply by telling me a string of falsehoods.”
“Is that to say you still do not know what his issue is?” Owen asked, shaking his head. “I have never known a father to be so cruel.”
“Even your own?”
Before he could answer, the butler arrived to inform them that their dinner was prepared. Owen was grateful for that, as there was nothing he could say about his father without revealing things that he was not yet prepared to share.
Despite how their outing had ended, their dinner passed with easy conversation, their prior disagreements as good as forgotten.
Owen hoped that Beatrice was as happy as he was about that, for he did want them to continue to enjoy one another’s company.
He would take her to an inn another time, before her friends arrived, and show her what the village truly offered.
“As I was saying before,” he told her, “I thought that you might be missing your friends, and so I have invited them to stay with us for a short while. They should arrive sometime next week.”
He wondered if he had acted prematurely. Given the way she sat quietly and stared at him for a long moment Owen started to think that he had, but she eventually smiled at his words.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I look forward to their visit greatly. Before that happens, though, might it be all right if we make a few changes to the household?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Nothing too spectacular, but there are some things that are… well, they seem rather outdated.”
“If there is anything not to your tastes, you are more than welcome to change it. Mrs. Forsythe will be happy to help you. She has been requesting various refurbishments for years.”
At that, she began eating happily again, and Owen wondered just how much she wished to change. Part of him hoped it was more than she had suggested.