Chapter 25 #2
Beatrice paused, a pensive expression upon her face. “I ken that, Duchess. Ye were quarrelin’ with Jeremy.” A faint smile lifted her lips. “Sophie enjoyed runnin’ between the blankets. I couldnae blame ye; I told Jeremy that.”
“Oh… well, thank you.” Anna’s voice made it sound like a question, her brow furrowing in confusion.
Did that mean that Beatrice was on her side?
It hardly seemed that way, but perhaps the older woman didn’t show her feelings much.
Or, perhaps, there were too many other feelings and pains and troubles to contend with, instead of bothering herself with making friends with a dowager duchess, now duchess again.
“I really am… um… sorry about your husband,” Anna said awkwardly. “I can understand that you might not be the greatest enthusiast of weddings, at present. So, if I can do anything to help you and Sophie, please let me know.”
Beatrice shook her head. “I daenae plan to linger. I was just lookin’ for me brooch.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sure it was a fine weddin’, but it’s nae the weddin’ that matters. It’s all that comes after.”
“I do not have much experience of the after part,” Anna admitted with a dry laugh. “Do you have any advice?”
It had been meant in partial jest, but Beatrice paused, searching Anna’s face for a moment, as if only just seeing her. “Aye, well, I’d say that ye should concentrate on enjoyin’ yerself, but I can tell ye’re nae. Ye look sad, lass.”
“I am just… tired, that is all,” Anna said haltingly. “I have not been sleeping well of late.”
Beatrice gave a slow nod. “Aye, I didnae sleep a wink in the days before me weddin’ to Douglas.
” A bittersweet smile curved her lips, her eyes shining with memory.
“Couldnae wait to be his wife. Mercy, I loved that man. It wasnae a common love; it was the kind that doesnae happen too often, and when it does, ye daenae want to let it go.”
Anna softened. “He must have been a very special man.”
It was the most she had heard Jeremy’s sister-in-law say, and she did not want her to stop, strangely pleased that Beatrice had decided to open up a little to her. A sign of the woman’s coldness thawing.
“He was,” Beatrice murmured, her hand quickly wiping something from her cheek.
“But daenae ye make the same mistake as me, lass. Nay matter how much ye think ye might love a man, ye must never give yer heart completely, because when it gets ripped out, there’s nay way to get it back.
There’s just a… hollow where it used to be, and a shadow where the light was. It’s just… dark and bleak.”
She tapped her chest as her mouth twisted, her face falling as if she were about to break apart. But a sharp intake of breath later, and Beatrice’s expression returned to the stony blank of before, the shine in her eyes dimming as grief returned.
“Ye remember that,” she mumbled. “Daenae give yer heart, even if it hurts to withhold it. I promise, it’ll hurt less than havin’ it taken from ye.”
Without staying to hear any response that Anna might have, Beatrice hurried off, leaving Anna standing alone.
And what if the man has already taken your heart and cracked it?
She supposed she wouldn’t get to ask that question now, as she looked around for a friendlier face.
The guests weren’t interested in her; they talked among themselves in self-important clusters.
Katherine was busy in the kitchens, Mr. Miller had been called away to perform carriage duties, and Jeremy…
He was talking with Colin, and she was not yet ready to speak to either of them, no matter how sorry they might be.
Delighted that no one was paying her any attention, she decided to follow Beatrice’s lead. With her head down to make herself less conspicuous, she made her way across the room and out the door, and didn’t stop until she was outside her bedchambers.
The peace that overwhelmed her as she stepped into her room was unparalleled, despite the circumstances of the day. Here, among her familiar things and sights and smells, relief unraveled the tension that had been knotting her muscles and limbs all day.
I should ask Katherine if I might have a bath. The thought of submerging herself in fragrant, hot water was a tantalizing prospect.
“No, I should not bother her,” she murmured sadly, as she padded across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, facing the window.
Groaning as her fatigued body complained, she reached down to unfasten her shoes. Next, she slowly unpeeled her stockings from her legs and shimmied out of the drawers she favored, though she knew they were unfashionable. Then again, who would see them but her?
She felt she could breathe again as she untied the ribbon beneath her bust and tossed it aside, then grasped her skirts and pulled her wedding gown up and over her head.
Shedding the weight of it alone was a sweet kind of relief, her chemisette following it to the floor, until she stood there in nothing but her shift and stays.
Wincing as her shoulders protested, she reached back to find the knot of the undergarment’s laces… and jumped in fright as a familiar voice purred from the doorway, “I am the one who should be doing that.”