Chapter 10
W hy is it so difficult?
Dorian could not bring himself to make good on his promise. Two weeks had passed, and he had still not gone to claim his wife. After seeing her so frightened that night, he could not do it. Every morning at breakfast, she seemed more drawn and reserved. Despite how much time she spent out in the sun, Cordelia seemed to be growing paler. She clearly was not sleeping well, and he did not know how to accommodate her. She almost seemed sick, but she never complained. He had instructed the housekeeper to keep an eye on her to ensure that she was given anything that she might want. She should not be wanting for anything, and yet, she was not thriving.
It was troublesome.
Dorian’s work was slipping. He ought not to worry himself with things so trivial as how she spent her day, but how could he not when she was starting to seem ill? Mary had been avoiding him for nearly a week now. He was jittery and on edge for reasons that he could not explain. Even now, his hand felt uncomfortably twitchy. If only there was a way to shake her and demand that she tell him what was the matter so that he could fix it. Was that truly so much to ask?
Cordelia was wilting away. He was failing. Again.
Guilt was an annoying emotion. That must be it. He was just overthinking his debts to her father, though he did not think of them as debts . It was not his daughter’s or wife’s place to languish and suffer as a result of his sins.
This afternoon, he was attempting to read a book. He was trying to distract himself enough to collect himself to resume his work. Cordelia would not ask the housekeeper for anything. But he was at a loss. How could he help her if she would not let him?
Mary sat across the room from him, working on her needlework slowly. Every few strokes of her needle, she paused to look in his direction. Given that she also happened to be catching him at the same moment that he was watching Cordelia out of the window, he was of a mind to banish his sister from the room entirely.
“You can admit that I am right, any time now, you know,” Mary said in a singsong voice. She was overly proud of herself. “Or, is this something perhaps even more than I originally expected?”
Vexed, Dorian set down his book and angled his body away from the window to remove the temptation from himself. “What are you implying?”
“Most men would be only too happy to have feelings for their wives, you know,” Mary continued, barely keeping from smiling, though the gloating was abundantly evident in her voice.
“I do not know what you are referring to.”
“Brother, you are far too intelligent to play so stupid.”
“I do not have feelings for her. It is a convenient arrangement and nothing more. That is all.”
“Do you think that I am blind?” Mary put down her needlework to focus on him better. “Do you think that I cannot see the way that you watch her at dinner? The way that you refuse to answer even the smallest questions from her? Even Georgie has noticed it! Are you that afraid that she might like having a conversation with you that you freeze her out entirely?”
“Are you finished?”
“I will be finished the moment that you admit that you are at least fond of her,” Mary pressed.
“You are a highly meddlesome woman; do you know that?”
Mary lifted her hands in mock surrender. “Have it your way.”
Dorian nodded and opened his book back up forcefully. He could not read a single word on the page. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he was just glossing over the same paragraph time and again, absorbing nothing. All he could think was Cordelia. Finally, with a huff of frustration, he put it back down and gave up the pretense.
“If you have a solution to how I could make her… less miserable, I would be open to your suggestions,” he said reluctantly.
“I thought you would never ask!” Mary chuckled, basking in her victory for a few moments. “I have learned that she does love flowers…”
Dorian pressed his tongue against his teeth. It took him less than a moment to understand what she was getting at. Of all of the things that she could have suggested, that was the one wholly off-limits. He would never, under any circumstances, open that greenhouse again. He truly did not know why he had not had the whole thing leveled a long time ago. “Absolutely not!”
“You asked. If you do not like my answer, that is your fault,” Mary said. “All she talks about are the flowers that she had back home and how extensive her garden was. If you truly want her to be happy here, then you need to meet her in the middle.”
“Find another middle,” Dorian insisted.
“She only wants to renovate the greenhouse, Dorian. She will transform it into something all her own. It will not be the place that Father–”
“Do not dare speak of it or him,” Dorian warned.
“She will plant flowers, Dorian. Perhaps cover it all in a fresh coat of paint or something so that you will not even recognize it anymore. Perhaps you could put stipulations on how much she could change? I would be happy to help her so that you are not involved in any of it.”
“Enough! I should have had that cursed building destroyed years ago!”
“You have to stop living in the past sooner or later, Brother,” Mary said.
“That is rich, coming from you,” he answered with equal venom. “Are you not still living in the past, Mary? Accusing me of every little or big thing that has ever happened to you?”
He could see the fight building. He knew that there was no point in fighting with her once things escalated to this point. She was going to become unreasonable, and the last thing that Dorian wanted was to lose his temper with her.
“I only want for you to see sense! I do not see why you are being so stubborn about this!” Mary nearly shouted.
“Get out,” Dorian warned. He could not continue this. He had his reasons, and he would not explain them to his sister. Did she truly think that he did things for no reason? That he would wish misfortune on the only ones that he cared for in this world?
“Typical. I make you slightly uncomfortable, and you push me away.”
“Get out!” He yelled, hoping that she would hear him.
Mary wanted to have the last word; he could see it on her face. Her hands twitched at her side as she struggled to keep her comments to herself, and then turned and stomped out of the room, her needlework wholly forgotten.
The door slammed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This was supposed to be a simple solution to a problem, and it was becoming such a thorn in his side. He was not supposed to be attracted to her. That was the crux of the issue.
He reached behind him to the rope cord on the wall, the one that was attached to the wall of bells down in the servant’s quarters. It would summon assistance to him. Thankfully, it was the housekeeper that arrived in the doorway. She was the easiest to handle. More importantly, she was the only one who never seemed to attempt to pressure him into doing things that he did not wish to do.
“Is there something that I can do for you, Your Grace?”
“The gardens to the south of the property; would there be sufficient space to add in another few raised potting boxes?” He asked, not looking at her when he spoke so that he would not see if she connected any dots or not.
“I believe so, Your Grace. I could have the butler order supplies this afternoon, perhaps?”
“Spare no expense. Make sure to acquire whatever seeds or bulbs of flowers that would grow this season as well. I wish to give it as a gift to my wife.”
“Very thoughtful, Your Grace,” Matilde answered without inflection.
It was then that he glanced at her. She was still looking at him expectantly like his gesture would not be quite enough.
“And… perhaps… inquire as to what her favorite dessert is?”
This was embarrassing. He felt so deeply uncomfortable. How was he supposed to know if she even had a sweet tooth or not?
“Whatever it is, I want it served more often at dinner,” he ordered.
He did not truly care for the detached look on the housekeeper’s face. A grander gesture might be preferable, certainly, were this a true marriage or an arrangement of a different nature. It was likely his company that was distressing her so anyway.
Why do I even care if she is happy or not? Marrying her should have been enough to atone for my sins.