Chapter Twenty #4
“Yes?” Mrs. St. Clare said.
“And you are not the only one,” Katie finally said, deciding the subject was too important to keep such information to herself. “The dowager labors under a similar misapprehension.”
Mrs. St. Clare looked pleased. “It does not surprise me in the least that the dowager believes as I do. I knew when she arrived here that she must have a plan in mind.”
“Yes, well her plan has not worked, so both of you are wrong. She is determined that if we are thrown together enough, we will magically fall into each other’s arms. To that end, she has done everything in her power to put us in the same room at the same time. It has come to naught.”
Suddenly Mrs. St. Clare fluffed up like an angry hen. “Have you made any effort to scaling the walls he has built around himself?”
“I tried to converse with him—to become acquainted—and he slapped down my every effort.”
“When was this?”
“During the early days of our marriage.”
“Oh, you tried for days.”
Katie bristled at her derision. “Just how long do you think I should keep putting myself forward only to be ignored or scolded or shoved away?”
“You are married. Marriage is for life, Your Grace. Surely a few months of effort—yes, and swallowing some rejection—is not too much to ask for a future with your husband?”
Katie’s face heated. “You have no idea what—”
“Do you know about his first wife?”
She blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Er, you mean how she eloped?”
“I can see you have heard the stories.”
“A few.”
“I did not mean the elopement so much as the behavior leading up to it. Gerrit had no chance with Christina. They were doomed before they ever wed for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that Christina was an extremely frivolous woman who was interested in nothing but balls and parties and society. But you are different.”
“I don’t see why you think—”
“What do you have to lose if you try and fail, Your Grace?”
“What?” Katie asked rudely, confused by the zigging and zagging in the conversation.
“What do you have to lose if you try to salvage your marriage—if you continue to try and get to know Gerrit? Is it your pride you are worried about?”
“It is more than just pride, it’s—”
“What could be more important than not only your own future happiness, but that of your husband and—one day—your children?”
Dulverton’s icy gray gaze rose up in her mind’s eye. The same look he had given her every single time they had been anywhere but in bed, a sort of irritated weariness, as if she were nothing but a ninny and a bore and a trial.
“Allison said one other thing about you in her letter,” Mrs. St. Clare went on when Katie did not answer her question. “She said she caught a glimpse of something on your face, something simmering beneath your smooth sophistication. She saw pain.”
“That is hardly surprising as everyone in the world has experienced pain at some point.”
“She said this was no ordinary pain.”
“Goodness! Mrs. Kent is wasted as a housekeeper. She should purchase a crystal ball and make her fortune having her palm crossed with silver.”
“Somebody hurt you and you have tucked yourself away—just as Gerrit has done.”
“You are even more skilled than Mrs. Kent. She, after all, spent several hours in my company while you”—Katie snapped her teeth shut and cast a pointed look at the clock as she stood—“why look at the time. How rude of me to have overstayed my half-hour.”
Mrs. St. Clare raised her hands in a placating manner. “Please, I have managed this badly. Do not leave yet. Especially not angry. I just wanted to help—”
“You do not have the slightest notion of what it is like living with Dulverton,” Katie snapped. “It is like trying to squeeze emotion from a brick.”
“I know exactly what it is like, and I have been able to break through Gerrit’s reserve, so I know it can be done. I know he can be warm and confiding and caring.”
Katie gritted her teeth, not with anger this time, but with jealousy.
She wanted to fling hurtful words at the other woman, to point out the immorality of being proud of not only taking another woman’s husband, but her son, too.
But her anger was seasoned with a fierce yearning to know how she had pierced Gerrit’s seemingly impenetrable shell of reserve.
“How do I get through when there is not so much as a crack in his veneer?” she asked, not caring about the desperate quaver in her voice.
“Never give in when you should stand firm. Do not let him put you at arm’s length.
I can see you are attracted to him. Do not allow your pride to stand in the way of showing just how much you want to get to know him.
Do not let him treat you as he did his mother.
Somehow, you must shake him from his—his complacency and seize his attention.
And then keep it. The time to claim your marriage and your husband is now, Your Grace.
Not after you’ve given him a child. Do not wait even another day.
Demonstrate that you are a force to be reckoned with.
That you are formidable, and he needs to respect you. ”
Katie shook her head, her eyes burning with unshed tears and frustration. What did she need to say to make this stubborn woman—and Betje—understand just how little power she had in her marriage?
“Can’t you see?” she demanded, her voice breaking. “There is nothing I can do that will—” She stopped and stared at the woman across from her, surprise blooming in her chest. Surprise and maybe something else; maybe… hope.
No. That is a terrible idea—terrible. Don’t you ever learn? her mother’s voice demanded in her head.
“What is it, Your Grace? What are you thinking?” Mrs. St. Clare asked.
“There is nothing I can do,” Katie finished, her voice barely a whisper.
But that was a lie. There was one way Katie could show Dulverton just how formidable she was. But she wasn’t sure that respect would be his reaction. In fact, it was just as likely to drive him away forever.