2. No Tears Now
NO TEARS NOW
M ercifully, the doctor saw no need to sedate me.
I was perfectly well by the time he arrived, although Mary almost spoiled everything by questioning whether or not I might be pregnant.
This sent the doctor into a flurry of activity, and I swore to all that was holy that if I was indeed carrying Acton’s child (which I certainly knew not to be), I would drink London dry of gin.
An acute sense of relief set in all the same when it was confirmed I was not pregnant, and knowing that Acton’s line would die out brought me far more joy than it should have.
For no woman in her right mind would breed with Azriel.
I was sure that he had certainly sown himself a little troupe of bastards on his travels, bedding whores and silly girls in every town he wandered through.
A lady of note though? She would be mad to bring the shame of marrying London’s most scandalous bachelor to her family name. The Caines were finished.
Mary drew me a bath, a regular indulgence I insisted on that Acton had chided me for. “Who needs to be so clean?” He’d ask, throwing his gnarled hands with their yellowed fingernails into the air. “I’m sure not even the Queen bathes this often!”
I didn’t tell him that Queen Victoria didn’t have a husband whose scent and spittle she needed to wash away every day.
That every huff of breath he cast over my skin left me feeling as though I had rolled in the mud of the Thames.
Every touch of his hands made me heave until I could scrub myself raw in the hot water, replacing the scent of his fetid body odour with the smell of rose oil soap.
And despite all his complaining, he certainly preferred inserting himself into a clean body.
Disgusting old man.
As I lay in the steaming water, I began to plot out the coming weeks. The funeral would need to be planned, and I was of course obliged to attend. Running away now, even under the guise of distress, would arouse suspicion.
Then would come the reading of the will. I already knew what it said - that Acton had left half his lands and assets to me, the remainder to Azriel, and that my family estate would be maintained.
I would, in a few short weeks, be a very wealthy woman.
I gazed around at the walls, at the deep cracks and crevices, where the wind always whistled through. This ancient, awful, crumbling house with its overabundance of cobwebs. I had no interest in keeping Linmere. Azriel could have it, sell it, burn it down, whatever he chose. I did not care.
No, I would take a house somewhere in the country, near my father of course. He would certainly expect me to return home, but I wanted my own home. Where I could have a cat, perhaps, to sleep at my feet, some dogs to run around on the estate. And a horse. Oh god, I missed riding.
Acton had forbidden it, always hoping I was pregnant, always afraid I would lose a possible child.
He’d allowed walks, saying that the movement was good for me, fresh air supposedly aiding in the conception of a child.
So I walked and walked around that miserable estate until he began to complain about that as well.
Miserable old fool.
There was a soft rapping on the door, and Mary stepped into the bathroom.
“You must be shrivelled to a prune by now, madam.”
I lifted a hand and sighed. “I am, Mary. But I do feel so much better having had a soak.”
“Of course you do.” She took down my gown as I rose out of the tub, and cleared her throat as I dried off. “Madam, I was wondering, if I may…”
“Yes, Mary?”
“Only…” She shifted on her feet, unable to meet my eyes. “If you decide to quit Linmere, would you… I mean… I only wonder if I would still have employment if you decided to leave London?” She eyed me questioningly, lifting the robe for me to slip into.
Her question caught me off guard, and my face certainly gave away my surprise. Her face dropped, her eyes seeking the floor as I quickly shrugged on the robe over my mostly dry body.
“Oh, please do not worry yourself.” I took her by the shoulders and gave her a warm smile. “We do not have to think of such things now.”
“I do not want you to think me selfish,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I am thinking of you, and that you have lost your husband. But you are the sweetest lady I have ever waited on, madam, and I would not want to leave you.”
That statement made me sad. I had never thought of myself as sweet, and my family had certainly never let me believe anything of the sort.
I was prickly and unpleasant, but had the good fortune of having a very handsome face and long black hair.
Beauty was my sweetness, and it made up for what my personality lacked in spades.
But I was not cruel, and perhaps, that was enough for this smiling, plump-cheeked girl.
“Mary, if you so desire to come with me, wherever I may go once my husband has been laid to rest, I would be glad for it.”
Mary let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, madam. You’ve no idea how much this means to me.”
A loud knock on my bedroom door had Mary scurrying to answer it. I began to release my hair from its pins, letting it fall down my back. It sat well below my bottom now, my crowning glory as my aunt had called it.
I admired my reflection in the mirror, and perhaps it was vain of me, but the red glow in my cheeks was extremely pleasing. The robe had cinched in my waist, and showed off just how tiny it was. I wondered if perhaps another man would take an interest in me, attempt to make me his wife.
All I knew was that I would not accept anything less than a man who worshipped me, who was a fool for me. I would lead any man who dared meddle with me around on a leash.
And then cast him aside like the dog he most certainly was.
Mary came back into the bathroom, her expression slightly less jovial than it had been when she left.
“Mr Azr- Mr Caine is here to see you, madam.”
I suppressed a groan. “Have you told him I am fresh from the bath and unable to receive visitors?”
“I have your morning dress here, madam.” She held it up, her eyes lighting up. “You are in mourning, Mr Caine will not think less of you for receiving him so. He is family after all.”
“We must send for the tailor at once, Mary.” I allowed her to wrap me in the gown, tying the frilly lace belt around my waist. “If I am forced to be a widow at my young age, I at least want to be a well-dressed one.”
“I shall certainly call for them, madam.” Mary quickly brushed out my hair, then pinned part of it back with a mother-of-pearl comb.
“And do not fret, madam. It is but a year and a day that you will be wearing all black. And in two years, you’ll be all dressed up again, pretty as a picture. It will seem like no time at all.”
Two years. With a pang in my chest, I ran my fingers over the blue velvet of the morning dress.
It seemed frivolous to be concerned with clothing at that moment.
Wearing black was a small price to pay, and one I had known would come due.
And yet, two years of pretending to mourn somehow felt like an age at that moment.
Such a very long time to keep up this tiresome act.
I gave myself a shake, scolded myself silently for being so patently ridiculous, and rose to face my stepson.
Azriel was waiting by the fire when I emerged into my bedroom. He took in my appearance with nothing but that unnerving neutrality, his face impossible to read. His gaze trailed down the length of my hair, which had started to curl as it dried.
“Hello, Evie,” he said softly, his mouth twisting into a smile I found most unsettling. “I am so glad to see you up and looking well. You gave us quite a fright this morning.” Before I could respond, his gaze instantly turned distant as it landed on Mary. “Tea.”
Mary dropped quickly into a bob. “Of course, sir.” She scurried out of the room, and I took a seat by the fire.
“You should not speak so unkindly to that poor girl,” I said with a raised eyebrow. “You are the master of this house now, you must act like it.”
Azriel’s face broke into a wide smile as he sat down, the sort of smile that no doubt had the wanton women of Athens and Rome falling all over themselves.
“I do apologise, Evie. I am not quite myself today.”
“Yes, I rather think we are all feeling not ourselves at the moment.”
He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair. “Indeed, and I fear that shall linger for some time. I can only imagine how keenly you are feeling the loss of my father. I know how much you loved him.”
I cleared my throat as quietly as I could manage. “I did, with all my heart, as I know you did, too.”
“Of course.”
“I can still scarcely believe that you are here.” I shifted in my chair, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “When did you return?”
“In the early hours of this morning. I asked them not to wake anyone.” He sighed, rubbing his stubbled chin. “I will never forgive myself. If only I had insisted they wake my father, perhaps… something could have been done.”
“Oh, no, I am sure-” I broke off as Azriel raised an eyebrow, and quickly swallowed any incriminating words that threatened to slip out. “Your father was an old man, who died happy and warm in his bed. I am simply glad you were here to say goodbye to him properly.”
“As am I, Evie, more than you can know.”
This act was already becoming exhausting, the same lies being spun over and over.
I did not wish to entertain endless conversations with Azriel over how much we had both loved his father, when we both no doubt hated the man with every fiber of our beings.
I rubbed my temple gently, feeling a headache coming on.
“Are you well?” Azriel’s voice was low, interspersed by the crackling of the fire .
“I do wish everyone would stop asking me that, I just lost my husband and I do not need more insipid questions.”
“Forgive me, Evie.” If my irate tone had bothered him, he did not let it show.