Chapter 29 #2
Which led to a bit of disappointment when he was informed that the duchess had requested a tray in her room rather than coming to join the family for supper. He did not find out until he had already joined the others in the dining room, which meant that he could not politely do the same.
“Johanna gets terrible megrims sometimes,” Bridget told him seriously. “Even Rose’s tonics do not work.”
“They help, but…” Rose sighed, looking a bit guilty, as though she thought she should be able to cure whatever ailed Johanna. “No, they cannot always work the way they should. I am uncertain what brought it on today. We were having such a good day.”
Matthew frowned. He’d thought they were having a good day as well. Perhaps Rose was wrong about the cause.
“Well, I was not.” Bridget scowled and poked at her meal. “If anyone should be having a megrim, it should be me.”
“You are perfectly well; you are just stubborn,” Grandmama told her. “Which is not a bad quality, but it needs to be properly applied. Balking at learning necessary lessons from your governess is not properly applying it.”
“But it’s boring!”
“So is much of life, which means the lesson to be learned there is patience. Something you are in great need of if you want to succeed in life.”
Micah snickered, which made Bridget scowl at him. She lifted her chin, sitting up straighter, obviously trying to mimic what she thought a proper lady should look like. Beside her, Charlotte cocked her head at her sister, giving her a little glare.
“I like the lessons,” Charlotte said. “I want to be able to read more.”
Bridget made a face.
“It is very good to be able to read. If you cannot read, then you cannot know what others write about,” Grandmama said. “Many secrets are written in notes to people.”
The face Bridget was making immediately changed from annoyed disgust to something much more contemplative. Matthew shook his head. His grandmother had certainly figured out how to motivate Bridget, but he was no longer sure that was a good thing.
At least he could leave Johanna’s siblings in his grandmother’s capable hands while he tended to his wife.
Johanna
Curled up on her bed, hugging her pillow to her chest, Johanna felt utterly exhausted. Containing her emotions all afternoon in front of the other ladies had taken every bit of energy she possessed. Trying to have a meal with her family, Lady Stark, and her husband… out of the question.
Rose would know something was wrong because she knew Johanna’s ‘headaches’ formerly came from the stress of trying to handle the family’s finances and food.
Now, Rose would surely suspect it was some kind of stress again, but she could not possibly guess at the reason behind it.
And Johanna could not confide in her. That was not fair to Rose.
Would it be conspiracy to cover up a murder if she did?
Johanna did not know, but she would not risk it. Bad enough she and her mother were already involved, both unwittingly. She would not do the same thing to someone else, especially not Rose.
If the worst happened, and Johanna and her mother were… not around… Rose would take care of the others. But for that to happen, she could not be a part of this. Not even tangentially.
Her head really did hurt, but it was as much from worry and crying as any physical pain. Johanna did not know what to do, and there was no one she could ask. No one she was sure she could trust. Other than Rose, but she had good reasons for keeping quiet there.
As much as she’d wanted to tell the other ladies today, how could she? They were keeping one secret for her already but one that impacted no one but her. Tiffany’s father was among those dead. Had Johanna’s mother supplied the sleeping potion that caused his death?
Moaning, Johanna rolled her face into her pillow, feeling her shoulders heave even as no more tears were able to come.
Her well had run dry. She should drink something, eat something, but she was too nauseous, and the tray sat untouched by her bedside, the food growing colder, her drink growing warmer with every passing minute.
At some point, she would have to gather herself. Face everyone again. She knew it. She’d done it hundreds of times before.
Though she had not had a husband. Or his sharp-eyed grandmother. And she’d been able to confide in Rose.
What am I going to do?
There was a knock on her door, and it opened immediately following, making Johanna stiffen.
“Johanna? Kitten?”
Oh no.
It was her husband.
Johanna held perfectly still and closed her eyes, not responding because she did not know what to say. She wanted so badly to be his kitten, his good girl, but how could she be when she was withholding information from him? Incredibly important information?
But how was she supposed to choose between her mother and her husband?
She could hear him coming closer to the bed. Felt his hand on her arm. Could not help the sniffle that came up, which ruined the illusion of sleep. Still, she kept her face averted.
“Poor kitten, does your head hurt so badly then?” He rubbed his hand over her arm, then up to the back of her neck. His touch was gentle, soothing, and even though she did not deserve it, she could not help but sink into it.
Closing her eyes, she let her mind empty as his hand moved up her neck to the base of her skull, pressing his fingers into the space between them. It felt better than it should, which made her feel all the more guilty.
“You have not eaten.” There was a hint of scolding in his voice. “You will feel better if you eat something. Roll over.”
The order was clear, and Johanna found herself rolling over. The sympathy on her husband’s face was nearly enough to make her start crying again. He looked so serious, so concerned.
Lifting his hand to her cheek, he swiped away at the tiny bit of moisture beneath her eyes. Johanna knew she must look terrible, yet if he thought so, it did not show in his expression.
“Something to drink first,” he said.
She found herself being propped up on several pillows behind her back, then Matthew held her glass to her lips. When she lifted her hands to take it, he frowned and shook his head. Somewhat exasperated, but also not wanting to antagonize him, she let her hands drop into her lap while she drank.
Then he took the plate from her tray and fed her supper, one bite at a time.
She did feel better, even though she did not want to. Did not deserve to. Johanna frowned at him.
“I can hold my own fork,” she mumbled between bites.
“But you do not have to because I am here to do it for you.” He raised his eyebrow at her. “Now, be my good girl and take another bite.”
Johanna did as he said, though her chest felt like it was breaking apart at the idea that, once he knew the truth, he would never call her his good girl again.