Chapter 18
“It is all so confusing,” Maria said, sighing. “I thought that he would consummate the marriage, but he did not. Do you think he detests me?”
The Ladies Corset Chronicles Club were holding their first meeting away from the home of the dowager countess.
Maria had decided to exercise her rights and have the meeting at Winterleigh.
Of course, it was not to be compared to the bright, airy home of Evelina Burville, but she had dined alone on the previous evening, and she had felt compelled to assert herself in a small way.
Evelina had arrived before Anna, and Theodora had lingered by the carriage. The horse had seemingly sustained some minor injury, which had only been made known once the sisters began traveling. Theodora, who had a special fondness for horses, wanted to ensure that the animal was well looked after.
And so, Maria had taken the opportunity to speak candidly with Evelina, who knew far more about the pleasures of marriage than she.
“Well,” Evelina said after a moment. “I understand your frustration entirely, but I cannot say as though I am surprised.”
“No?”
Evelina shook her head. “Regrettably, many men do not care about pleasing women.”
Maria bit her lip and wrinkled her nose. “That sounds dreadful.”
“It is,” Evelina agreed, “but that is the way of men. They care only for their own delight.”
“I am uncertain that I would…” Maria trailed off, searching for some way of describing her enigmatic husband. “I do not know if I would claim that he cares nothing for my pleasure. I believe he does…in his own way.”
“Is his own way sufficient for you?” Evelina asked softly.
She inhaled sharply and looked away. “It is not, but maybe I can learn to—”
“No,” Evelina interrupted. “You should not have to learn to endure that which is not pleasurable to you.”
Laughter filled the air, and Maria straightened in her chair. “Thank you for your guidance.”
Evelina cast her a concerned look, but she seemed to realize that Maria had no inclination to discuss the matter further with Anna and Theodora present.
“It is simply ages since we have attended a ball!” Theodora exclaimed, as she entered.
Anna, who walked beside her, nodded. “In truth, I had not even realized it. But you are quite right. It has been months, at least.”
The ladies exchanged greetings, and Maria forced a smile, trying to feign as though an anxious energy was not humming through her veins.
“What do you think?” Theodora asked, turning to her sister. “About a ball?”
“I would enjoy attending one,” Evelina said.
“Yes,” Maria agreed.
Discussion of balls was significantly safer ground to tread than the reality of her confusing husband.
“Anna, perhaps it is time to take advantage of your marriage to a duke? Could he be persuaded to arrange one?” Evelina said.
“Maria is also married to a duke,” Anna pointed out.
So much for leaving the man entirely from the conversation! “But my husband is unlikely to be enamored of the notion,” Maria said.
“I do not know what my husband thinks on the subject as I never saw him after the wedding,” Anna replied.
“But then, come to think of it,” Evelina said, tapping her chin in mock thoughtfulness, “you are a duchess and presumably could arrange a ball without your husband?”
Anna blinked. “Why yes, what an astute observation. Why wait for my husband to make his appearance in London?” she laughed.
“For that matter, the Dowager Countess of Thornwall would also be a suitable host,” Maria pointed out.
“Ah, but Anna’s reputation is somewhat more…polished than mine. There are dark whispers of my independence and…” Evelina lowered her voice to a mock whisper, “…radical leanings.”
“Men label anything that threatens them as radical,” Theodora said, stirring honey into her tea. “If a woman decides she wishes to write, for example, she must either publish under a man’s name or be whispered of in hushed tones as a radical.”
“Or if a woman seeks to live independently of any man. My father described Thornwall as a hotbed,” Maria laughed.
“Oh, that is wonderful. I like presiding over a hotbed!” Evelina replied.
“It is decided then. I shall arrange a ball as soon as possible. Will you be attending, Maria?”
Maria looked at her hands in her lap, imagining proposing such an occasion to Damien.
“I would dearly love to attend with my husband, but…”
“Then attend on your own. Be radical,” Theodora said, grinning.
“Have you not succeeded in civilizing your… I will not use the vulgar moniker which we all know; let us give him his proper title, your duke?” Anna asked.
Evelina’s eyes fixed on Maria’s face, but the woman said nothing that might reveal the contents of their prior conversation.
“Oh, I don’t know. I feel that I take a single step forward and then run a dozen back,” Maria said. “We become close and the barriers between us begin to blur and crumble, but then he builds them up again!”
Maria found herself becoming upset, emotion welling within her like the constant bubbles in the water of the bathhouse, welling up from subterranean depths. She got up, unable to sit still for long when high emotion ruled her.
The room suddenly annoyed her. The curtains were wide open and sunlight painted the room, but the furniture was too heavy and dark. The paintings on the walls were too dreary, and even the fireplace too oppressive with its age-dark stone.
“I must get out of this room. Of this house. It was a mistake to ask you here. I need a change. Can we relocate to the garden?”
“But of course, say the word and it is done,” Evelina said with concern.
“The word is given. This house becomes too oppressive for me at times. With all its mysteries and silences and rules and…”
She was babbling, saying more than she wanted to explain to her friends, dear as they were to her. She clamped her teeth together, breathing in through her nose, long and slow, attempting to calm herself. The others looked at her and themselves with anxious eyes.
“What mysteries?” Theodora asked curiously.
“Theo!” Evelina snapped, “now is not the time for scientific curiosity. If our friend feels this house holds mysteries, then we accept that it does.”
“I like a mystery,” Theodora replied stubbornly.
“You like unravelling a mystery until it is no longer mysterious,” her sister replied. “If it were up to you, every knot would be unbound and our clothes would fall off!”
The banter between the two was perfectly timed. Maria laughed, feeling the sudden pressure that had been weighing on her, lifting.
“It is a bright, sunny day. Let us go out to the lawn, and I will tell you all I can of mysteries. There are no secrets between us,” Maria said, smiling.
Except perhaps, for that conversation she had shared with Evelina about her husband’s strange inclination and seeming unwillingness to give her pleasure.
Evelina looked relieved at her smile. Theodora looked interested in the proposed topic of conversation.
“Where should we hold it, do you think? A public space or at my house?” Anna said, still dwelling on the prospect of a ball.
“Somewhere scandalous,” Evelina said, her eyes sparkling. “Then, you may find your reputation as ruined as mine.”
“Is that your aim?” Anna asked, laughing. “To see us all as ruined as you?”
“Indeed,” Evelina said seriously. “If I ruin all your reputations, I will appear spotless in comparison to you all. First, I shall ensure that your reputation is sullied, followed by my poor sister—”
“How dare you!” Theodora exclaimed. “You must at least wait until I am wed!”
Evelina sighed. “You are inconveniencing me.”
“Yes,” Maria said, her lips twitching into a fond smile. “How dare your sister wish to ensure that she is safely wed before you ruin her reputation?”
“Well, I suppose I could always ruin you before her,” Evelina mused.
“Is that why you suggested I arrive at the ball unaccompanied?” Maria asked.
Evelina gasped and put a hand to her chest, as if scandalized by the very notion that she might be involved in some scheme. “How dare you, Maria?”
Maria laughed again, linking her arm through Anna’s and leading the way to the door.
“To the point,” Anna said. “Where shall we host it, do you think?”
“I have always loved your home, Anna,” Maria said. “Let it be there.”
Before they reached the door, there was a knock. For one brief, thrilling moment, Maria thought it might be Damien. Her reason intervened to quash hope, though Damien would not have knocked. Nor would he have any reason to come and meet her at the Corset Chronicles.
“Come in!” Maria called.
Philby entered bearing a tray on which there was a letter.
“Correspondence for you, Your Grace,” Philby intoned as though he were delivering an invitation to a funeral.
“Thank you, Philby. We shall take our tea outside on the lawn. Kindly have the tea things relocated,” Maria said, picking up the envelope.
Philby’s eyes roamed over the tea service as though contemplating a herculean effort.
“Of course, Your Grace. I pray it does not rain.”
The sky outside was spotless blue, but to Philby, probably gray and thunderous. As the butler departed to summon a maid to gather the tea service, Maria opened the letter.
“I wonder who would be writing to me here?”
“Anyone who read the banns and knows you are now the Duchess of Winterleigh, presumably,” Theodora reasoned.
“I found that becoming a duchess rather than simply being the daughter of an earl led to an increase in the amount of my time I was asked to give to… well, everybody,” Anna said.
“From one or two letters a week from my friends to dozens from complete strangers who wished the patronage of a duke and duchess. You should become accustomed to it, Maria.”
“Damien is not exactly the kind of duke of whom one seeks patronage. That is why I was asked to marry him, after all.”
“Perhaps this is evidence of the civilizing effect you are having upon him?” Theodora asked.