Chapter 2
Chapter
Julianna entered the Torquay Inn exhausted.
She’d taken the train here and then gone straight to visit Thomas, never once considering that Fred might have also made the journey.
She wasn’t certain how she ought to feel about that.
He hadn’t followed her. She’d seen the carriage out front, so knew the journey would have taken him multiple days.
She’d only arrived this afternoon by train, so he’d left before she had by quite a large margin.
She couldn’t be angry. She wasn’t. But she could be…unsettled. Yes, she thought as she made her way into the common room of the inn, seeing him unexpectedly had unsettled her.
It was warm and crowded inside. Thick with the smell of bodies pressed together and the roasted meat the inn was selling for supper cut with the tang of the briny seaside air. Conversation rose in waves around her as she made her way to the counter where the innkeeper stood.
“Good evening,” he greeted her when she approached.
Julianna took in his thick mustache and apron, the rolled cuffs of his shirt. “Hello. I’ve sent ahead for a room. I’m—”
“The Countess of Chester, my lady. Your husband arrived some time ago and asked that I be on the lookout for you.”
She froze as the man blithely wiped his hands on the cloth slung over his shoulder. Of course Fred had stopped here. There was only one decent inn in Torquay. But he hadn’t—surely he hadn’t—changed her request for her own accommodation.
“And my room?” she asked, hesitantly.
“It’s ready, my lady. Would you like some supper sent up? The Earl said you were partial to roast beef so we’ve set the best cut aside for you.”
“I would…that would be…nice. Thank you. And my husband’s room?”
“Adjoining yours, my lady.”
“I see, yes. And if I were to need them”—she glanced around the packed inn—“would there be other rooms available?”
“No, my lady. The adjoining suite was the last. It is the nicest by far though, you needn’t worry.” He looked anxious, as if she were the kind of Countess who might throw a temper tantrum over an inn room not being up to her standards.
“I’m sure it will be quite lovely,” she said, adjusting her tone to be as soothing as she could make it. “Lead the way.”
She followed him up the narrow staircase, her traveling boots heavy against the worn wood. He opened the first door on the landing and stood aside. “Your room, my lady. And his lordship’s through there.” He pointed to an interior door in her room that was closed. “I’ll have supper sent up shortly.”
“Thank you.”
He bowed and withdrew, leaving her alone in the small, tidy chamber. The ceiling was low and the furniture plain, the bed narrow but neatly made. There was a single window that overlooked the harbor. And the interior door—Fred’s door—that remained shut fast.
Julianna set her reticule on the table and removed her gloves slowly.
She took off her traveling cape and hat, and then collapsed into the little chair.
She was wearing one of the intricate gowns Madame Tremaux had made, so she would need to summon one of the serving girls to help her out of it later, but for now she just wanted a bit of silence after her conversation with Thomas.
Fred had come here because she’d asked him to. He’d told Thomas the truth because she’d demanded it of him. He’d stopped lying.
Her gaze drifted, unbidden, to the adjoining door again.
But she stayed where she was. She needed to think, as she had been doing for the last several days at Farrow Cottage.
It had always been easier to clear her mind when her hands were in her beloved vegetable gardens and her chickens were gossiping in the warm morning air.
The green shoots of living things peeking their heads up after the long, long winter made her feel buoyant in a way nothing else could.
She didn’t have those things now though so she was going to have to parse out her feelings without them.
She’d known before she left Dorset what she’d wanted to say to her brother.
He’d gone too far by pushing her into a cold marriage bed and then having the audacity to be hurt when she’d married Fred.
And worse, jealous of the time they’d spent together before Tom had gone to the sanatorium.
But it had been, all in all, a fairly easy conversation.
She’d said her piece, he’d agreed and apologized, and they’d had some tea.
But Fred was different. He was her husband, not her brother. And she’d fallen in love with him, while he’d done nothing but keep secrets from her.
But, also, he had a world of hurt he’d kept shut up inside for too many years.
All that pain had been eating away at him, distorting his view of the world and himself.
She’d been so intent on the lie, on hating Chester, on trying to protect herself from being hurt again like Robert had hurt her, that she hadn’t been fair to him.
There was a sinking feeling in her stomach that told her she needed to go and find Fred. She needed to apologize.
She was still mulling that over when a knock came at the door.
Supper, she thought and rose to answer it, smoothing down the wrinkles in her gown as she went. She wasn’t certain she had an appetite but she would try. She did need to eat more, as Fred was always telling her.
Except, when she opened the door, it wasn’t the innkeeper standing before her. It was her husband in just his shirt sleeves and waistcoat, holding a tray laden with food.
“I’ve brought your supper, Jules.”
To which she could only reply, “What?”
“I’ve brought your supper. Shall I set it down for you?”
“I—”
She didn’t finish that sentence though. She could see well enough his arms were straining under the overflowing tray. She ignored the way the effort made his muscles show themselves beneath his shirtsleeves as she stepped aside to let him in.
“I don’t know how the footmen do this in livery, honestly,” he said as he set the tray down on the little table and turned to her.
“You do seem to have forgotten your coat.”
“I tried, Jules. But I couldn’t carry the tray in the damn thing. It’s cut too exactingly for that kind of movement.”
She felt the side of her mouth quirking up into a smile. Only Fred would have a coat cut so closely to his frame that he couldn’t lift his arms properly to carry a tray. “What are you doing here, Fred?”
“Bringing you roasted beef, not as good as Simpson’s-on-the-Strand certainly, but I hope you’ll like it. A bit of the best bread I could find. And Eva’s favorite broth.”
Julianna felt her brows furrow again. “You had them make the broth?”
“Oh, no.” A faint red color seeped into his cheeks. “I don’t think the innkeeper would have taken kindly to me giving instructions to his wife.”
“No, of course not.” It had been a silly thing to think. And even sillier for her heart to have trilled at the idea of him standing down in the kitchens, directing the chef what to make for her.
“No, I paid them handsomely so I could make it myself.”
“You did what? Fred, you needn’t have.”
“I’m aware. I did it because I wanted to. I didn’t know how else to tell you, Jules, how sorry I am. Except to show you.”
“Sit and eat with me,” she said, glancing down at the tray. “There is certainly more than enough for…Fred…there’s enough here for an army.”
Fred arched an eyebrow. “An army? There’s barely enough for us both, I think.”
She found herself wanting to smile again, so she tipped her chin slightly to hide it.
She didn’t want to be flippant about this.
She wanted to be calm and steady. She didn’t want to push him so far that she had to converse with Chester instead of Fred.
But she would, she thought. Because Chester was a part of him too.
And then she returned her gaze to him very deliberately. “I was very angry at you,” she began while he uncovered the two bowls of broth.
“I’m aware.” He held out one of the bowls to her. “And you were right to be. Drink this, Jules.”
She took the bowl from his hands and let the soothing scent of herbs and stock waft up into her nose. “It smells delicious.”
“Taste it.”
She lifted the bowl to her lips and sipped. It was delicious. Warm and slightly salty and…made with love. She knew it had been. She could taste it.
“Fred—”
“Here,” he said, slicing into the roasted beef and holding the fork out to her. “Try this.”
“Are you trying to woo me with food?” she asked but leaned forward and let him slide the fork into her mouth anyway. The beef was rich and well-seasoned, and she closed her eyes for a moment before she swallowed it down.
“That depends,” he said, after she’d eaten that bite and the next he fed her. “Is it working?”
She nodded, the remnants of her hurt vanishing under the onslaught of care. Because that’s what it had been, hadn’t it? His secrecy and lying and vows to himself of celibacy. Not care in the way she wanted or even needed, but in the best way he’d known how.
As she watched him now, she thought he was learning better ways to show his care every day. As was she.
“Fred,” she said. “I owe you an apology.”
His handsome face jerked up at that. “Why is that?”
“For the way we treated you. Thomas and I both, but I won’t speak for him. This is about us. I know you came here to Torquay because I asked you to. And I know that I shouldn’t have pushed you into having conversations you weren’t ready for.”
“You shouldn’t have had to push. I should have told you. I should have told you everything.”
“I’m not certain you could have, Fred. That’s when Chester comes out, right? When there are conversations and feelings you aren’t ready to have? He’s your armor so you wear him when you need him. And I—I won’t ask you not to if that’s what you need to do.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and gathered her thoughts, imagining each thread of forgiveness emerging just like a burgeoning vegetable shoot making its way through the dark soil of Farrow Cottage’s gardens.