Chapter 4
Chapter Four
After breakfast, Lucy took a long solitary walk along the beach, admiring the Royal Pier with its suspension chains rising and falling between the iron pylons. The chains were bolted into the stone wall that rose beneath the town. Several small packet boats from France were docked alongside.
She nodded to visitors who nodded to her, enjoyed inhaling deep lungfuls of sea air. Birds sailed on the wind, and the ladies hid in bathing machines that were rolled away from shore to protect their modesty as they swam. The last time she had been to the seaside was—
When she and Reggie had taken Anna to Blackpool? They’d collected shells and made a sandcastle and—
As it often happened, the grief caught her hard, overtaking her just like the wave that had pulled Anna’s doll away from the shore. Reggie had rescued the precious toy by splashing out into the water fully clothed, his hat blowing off his head as he returned to Anna, triumphant.
Where was that doll now? Perhaps with all the toys her mother had hidden in a trunk so Lucy wouldn’t have to see them.
Lucy blinked hard, trying to press her overwhelming sadness down deep inside where she could try to ignore it. But never for very long.
Suddenly she saw every child on the beach, envied every smiling mother, and hated that she had been the one to lose her child to scarlet fever. It had almost caused her to turn her back on God, but her prayers to Him sometimes sustained her in bad moments.
This was not going to be a bad moment, she told herself, squaring her shoulders, sniffing in her threatening tears, and putting on a fake pleasant smile. She had to be prepared to face Reggie at luncheon, and if she let herself be swept away in her grief, he would know and be distracted.
By the time she returned to the Royal Albion Hotel late that morning, she was feeling better, refreshed from her walk.
And there was Reggie in the lobby, carrying an enormous wicker basket, looking mischievous and pleased with himself.
He still wore his red uniform, and many guests looked over at him in admiration.
Again, her heart did the little flutter of pleased happiness that apparently had not gone away with their separation.
“Frowning already?” Reggie asked.
She hadn’t realized her internal reaction to her own weakness was so apparent.
“Forgive me, I was thinking of…something else.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“No, I’m perfectly capable of solving my problems.”
Heavy in the air between them hung the words because I’ve done everything by myself this last year.
As if he heard, his smile faded a bit. Then he seemed to rally, lifting up the basket.
“I’ve ordered a luncheon for us. I know you’ve never been to Brighton, so I thought you would enjoy picnicking at the Royal Pavilion. Queen Victoria sold it to the city last year, so the gardens are now public.”
Lucy loved gardens—he knew it. So she nodded and together they turned to walk down the pavement, past those heading for the beach, and merging with others who had the same destination.
As it came into view, Lucy had to gasp. It was a royal residence with an Indian influence, roofs that were pointed bulbous domes, and rows of arches along the ground floor.
“Can we tour inside?” she asked.
“Not yet, but soon. They’re still redecorating after the queen took her own furnishings and fixings back to Buckingham Palace.”
They entered the grounds, walking across open meadows bordered by flowers, edged with shrubs and trees.
It was to one of the larger trees that Reggie led her, and its sheltering branches felt a little more secluded.
He opened the basket and spread a blanket across the soft grass, inviting her with a gesture to be seated.
As she knelt and spread out her skirts before sitting, Reggie began to bring out their feast: meat pies, chunks of cheese with bread, summer berries, peach tarts, and a stoppered bottle of lemonade.
After Lucy had eaten several pieces of cheese and some berries, she regarded Reggie eating meat pie with gusto. “I had breakfast with Miss Fournier.”
He swallowed and then washed down his food with a swig of lemonade. “Glad to hear it, but I don’t wish to discuss her right now. It will just distract us from our own problems.”
She arched a brow.
His smile faded into earnestness. “I haven’t seen you in a year, sweetheart. Today is about us.”
Hearing the endearment partially saddened her but also brought back sweeter memories. She tried to ignore them.
“I can’t forget the things you said last night,” he continued, “but I want to focus on the part about our marriage. You said our previous married life died with Anna, that you wanted to live a separate life. What did you mean?”
Hearing their daughter’s name on his lips made her shiver and briefly look away, at the bed of pink azaleas being admired by a passersby.
“I can’t help if you don’t speak of it,” he said quietly.
Lucy sighed. “I just want our marriage to be one where we’re content pursuing our own goals.”
“Have I ever stopped you from pursuing anything you wish?”
“No, of course not. But…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. “My friends have marriages I wish to emulate.”
“You mean your friend Lady Elizabeth?”
Lucy thought of Elizabeth, with two children and a third on the way. She and her husband Peter could hardly stand to be separated. “Their relationship is different, rare. We don’t have that kind.”
“Do you mean something like my friend Matthew, and his sisters and cousins, all of whom have marriages based on love and passion?” He lowered his voice. “The passion that we share.”
To her surprise, he leaned across the bread and kissed her, right there in public. She was so surprised she didn’t pull away, and he cupped her face with his warm, bare hand. His lips were soft and gentle, and as always, they took her away from any thought but needing to be alone with him.
She wasn’t going to let him distract her. She straightened away, blushing. Though he dropped his hand, those blue eyes smoldered, and she knew what he was thinking.
“Are those the people you mean, Lucy? Have you been spending time with them, remembering how it feels to be happy?” He lowered his voice to a wistful murmur. “And we were so happy.”
She stiffened. “They’re all very busy raising children.”
She saw the sympathy in his blue eyes, and she turned away.
“I’m sure they weren’t too busy to be with you this past year,” he said softly. “They all would know how much you needed them, especially with my absence.”
“I don’t need anyone’s pity,” she said with firmness.
“Lucy—”
“You left me alone to deal with all of their pity and constant concern. Sometimes I felt like I wanted to escape all their sad gazes and expressions of guilt because they had what I no longer did. My friends in the charities I support are different. They don’t let themselves feel the towering passions and sad depressions of marriage. They don’t invest that kind of need.”
If she had stabbed him with a knife, it would have hurt less.
He’d thought escorting her to a lovely garden would lift her spirits, but all it had done was make her feel free to dwell on her melancholia.
She didn’t want the passion they shared?
She didn’t want to need him the way he always needed her?
But maybe she didn’t think that he truly needed her.
“You know I didn’t leave you deliberately,” he said. “Though I keep saying it, I don’t know if you believe it. We both thought I could not just resign my commission when I’d been under orders. It would have seemed cowardly and hardly honorable.”
“You were needed,” she said bitterly.
“You needed me, too. We needed each other.”
She took a bite of a meat pie, her gaze focused on the distant spires of the pavilion as she chewed.
He saw shadows beneath her eyes that he hadn’t noticed in the initial excitement of their reunion.
The air of sadness that clung to her hadn’t gone away, he realized.
She’d just learned to keep it hidden. Were these emotions keeping her from wanting happiness again?
Then she said, “Those times are past. I learned to live on my own. I found friends in my charity work, people I admire.”
Every time he thought he couldn’t feel more guilty, more regretful, he found a deeper level of sorrow.
“So you want a distant sort of marriage,” he said quietly, “where you don’t have to be bothered with me. What would you have me do? Go to my club every evening? Attend balls where we don’t talk? Travel to my other properties and leave you to your charity work?”
Though she bit her lip, she didn’t look at him. “That’s what others do in Society.”
“Not our happy family and friends. They have marriages that mean something,” he said, leaning toward her. “I thought we did, too.”
She raised those big green eyes up to him, and though they glittered as if with moisture, she did not cry. “You want a real marriage with me, but you’re fine selling out Miss Fournier to the highest bidder.”
He straightened away from her in surprise. “That is not true. I cannot believe Miss Fournier would say such a thing.”
“She did not…in so many words.”
“Her father knew what was best for her, what kind of man would suit her and see her secure in life. And to be honest, you don’t know her at all, not like I do.”
He regretted the words the moment he said them, for she stiffened.
“So you spent a few weeks on a steamer with her and you’re an expert on her deepest needs and desires?”
“You don’t need to make it sound sordid. We are friends. Nothing she said convinced me to ignore the wishes of the man who loved her most, her own father.”
“But you’re fine ignoring her wishes, just like you’re ignoring mine.”
“You know there’s no comparison—you’re my wife, and I’m hardly ignoring your wishes.”
But she was already putting their half-eaten meal back in the basket. She rose to her feet and tried to pull on the blanket, looking pointedly at him when he didn’t move.
“Lucy, we’re not done with this conversation,” he said quietly.
“I think we are. And my head aches. I wish to return to the hotel.”
He stood up, bringing the blanket with him. This was simply one battle, not the war. He was not about to surrender to the shell of a life she thought she wanted.