Chapter Fourteen
Edmund thought theirs was an ideal marriage, even on that first night.
Although there was no passionate consummation or use of the phrase “I love you,” Edmund believed that Rose loved him—at least in some way. He knew for certain he was in love with her. If he hadn’t been sure during their wedding ceremony, he was certain during their wedding night, when she lay in his arms, resting peacefully against his chest, her bare feet nudging his own.
She looked at him inquisitively, whispering, “Mama said you were the experienced one in matters of husbands and wives, and that I should simply follow your instructions.”
Edmund felt his eyebrows climbing and his mouth dropping open. “That’s all the motherly advice she gave on the matter?”
“I have studied a small amount of biology, and botany is all about reproduction. She must have felt that between my ‘peculiarities’ and your knowledge, I would need nothing else.”
“My instructions are that you rest tonight, my dear Rose. It has been a long day, and tomorrow Allen will want your express instructions on how you wish the grounds to be divided into flower beds, herbaceous borders, areas for your research, and more.”
“But it is our honeymoon. Are we not supposed to have some togetherness?”
“I will follow you about the grounds like a lamb,” Edmund teased, brushing her thick, gloriously soft tresses back from her face.
Rose smirked up at him. “When you are ready to do your work, I would like to know it so that I may pull up my books and studies and sit beside you—if it will not hinder you.”
“It would be tiresome and tedious, Rose,” he cautioned. “Catherine detested—” his words stopped as Rose sat up on her elbow and looked down on him with a pout.
“I imagine she did not have something to occupy her time and her mind,” she said in a scolding tone. “You will have no such complaints from me.”
She cuddled back down beside him and then, miracle of miracles, her sweet little foot stretched out and rested against his own, the one that turned in. Catherine could never even bear to look at his “deformity.”
“Does your leg hurt often?” Rose asked in a hushed voice.
Edmund thought before answering, looking at the glow of the small glass lamp beside his side of the bed. No secrets between us. It would be easier to tell her it never bothers me, but that would be a lie. “Only when I walk a long way or stand for a long time.”
He could feel Rose nod against him, and then her voice became more alert. “How will you fare if we wander through Kew Gardens? And London? Isn’t there an awful lot walking?”
His voice became tighter, his whole body pulling taut. “When the accident first happened—I used a pushchair.” Edmund waited for her to pull away, to ridicule him, or at the very least realize what she had gotten herself into marrying him, and go silent.
Instead, she let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good! I would not want to go without you. I should be so lonely. Already, I feel lonely when I think of you going back to Germany for business. Do you suppose I could come?”
“Indeed, you shall come! If I have a need to go abroad, that is. I have arranged that all of my dealings will now be handled by a third party, telegraph, or even correspondence. I finally prefer Cadfael House once more.” Edmund pulled her closer still, loving the way her hand instantly rested on his chest, waiting for the weight of his own to secure it over his heart. “I went abroad to hide, Rose. Not to work. The majority of my dealings never need take me farther than London.”
“Good! Then I shall not have to be far from my work, either. Such as it is...” Rose’s voice turned thoughtful. “Edmund? When did you last see a physician about your leg?”
“What? Oh, Rose, there is nothing they can do. Dr. Perkins said it will never heal or straighten.”
“Yes, he did say that—many years ago, now. How many?”
Edmund reflected, then sighed, “Ten years.”
“Ten years! New discoveries have been made since then in all the sciences. I will research in all the books in Father’s library, and in yours, all the latest treatises on anatomy and surgery. There might be something they can do.”
The warm glow within him dimmed.
She doesn’t want me as I am.
She wants me to fix me. To research me and solve me, like the scientist she is.
Don’t you want the same things, a little voice taunted.
Rose was a very good listener—even when he said nothing. He’d seen that in just a few short weeks, and now he witnessed her uncanny ability again.
“I have made you unhappy. Is it because I spoke of your leg?” Her soft hand moved to his thigh and patted it once, a tender, swift motion before returning her hand to his chest. “I only want to spare you any pain, especially if you wish to follow me around the grounds. Mama would tell you—I will wander outside for hours. I will ask Allen to put benches throughout the gardens.”
“Rose.” It was only one word, but Edmund could hear the strain and quaking in his voice. So many emotions. Such sweetness. Such...love?
“Or is it because you do not mind a wife who studies plants, but one who studies the human body is far too much?”
Edmund’s chest heaved and jerked. Improper thoughts about a certain study of anatomy he would like to share with her swept through his mind and almost made him take a course of action he was sure to regret. Curling one fist at his side, he let out a long, slow breath.
“I find all of your thoughts kind and earnest. I do not care what you study, as long as you are happy to study near me.”
“Then what made you change? I could feel it. All of you coiled, ready to spring. Ready to leave, and the vicar said you would cleave to me.”
He did, and how I want to, Edmund thought. In a moment, he collected himself and whispered—as if the words were somehow less painful if he could barely hear them, “I hear you speak as if you want to cure me of my injury, Rose, and I’m sure that you will be disappointed. If you only married me with the intent of finding a way to fix what is broken, then you must retire to your rooms straight away, and in the morning we will tell everyone that we did not consummate the marriage because I... Because of my failure to perform as a husband should, and it can be annulled.”
“What? Oh, Edmund, no!” Rose threw both arms around him, startling him so that he made a most unmanly sound. “Never say that! About you, or us. I don’t wish that at all. I will love you just as you are. If you don’t wish to look into the matter, I will not. I promise.”
Her final words were a miserable whisper, and he cursed himself.
“I’m sorry, my darling. I’m sorry, Rose. I can’t live with another woman who wants me to be something I cannot be.”
“Oh. Then, that’s all right.” Rose didn’t move from her place on his chest. “I want you to be all that you are, only with more happiness and less pain, if God and doctors can perform such a thing. But you needn’t worry that I want someone else.”
Edmund looked up at her, feeling her weight on his chest and seeing her sweet face right above his. Her eyes never slid from his, and her mouth wasn’t hard or sneering. He had a feeling she would accept anything he offered her with a welcoming heart, and it was very tempting to recant his earlier instructions.
“I would very much like to sleep with you in my arms, and always wake up beside you.”
“I would like that just as much.”
“And tomorrow, you may research anything you like, dear wife, and if you believe something may help, I’ll try it, not because you need me to be ‘whole’ but because I would love to walk through the beautiful conservatory and grounds you’ll make at Cadfael House, strolling for hours with your hand in mine.”
Rose reached across and lowered the wick of the lamp until the light was gone, curling up in the darkness with her arms around him. She gave a long, contented sigh. “That sounds perfect.”
He cupped her face and stole one sweet kiss from her smiling lips. “Perfect,” Edmund murmured, looking at the treasure in his arms.