Chapter 9 #3
“I realized early on Matthew was the heir, and I the spare. I had ambitions in life, ambitions that couldn’t be realized without status or money. So I went to London to find a rich young woman to woo.”
Ellen closed her eyes. “I suspected as much.”
“So imagine my utter delight when I found you—not only young and rich, but pretty with the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. I had to have you.” He folded his legs under him, wincing at the hard wood floor beneath him. He smiled at the sweet memories. “Courting you was no hardship.”
“Marriage to me was, though.”
Mark didn’t say anything.
Ellen sighed, exasperated. “You waltz back into my life, saying you want to have an amiable relationship, and yet you won’t even answer my questions about why you left in the first place!
What went wrong? In my mind, everything was completely normal, even if you were more distracted than usual, and then while I was planning the dinner menu you walk in and say you’ve joined the Navy and not to expect to see you again for four years! ”
“It was a rash decision,” Mark allowed.
“Mark, you don’t make rash decisions. Everything you do is calculated and precise.” She glanced around the study to emphasize the point. The room, while in chaos, clearly had a method to its madness.
“I thought you were stupid,” Mark blurted, eyes squeezed shut. There. It’s out.
“You what?”
“You must admit we didn’t know one another well when we married. It was all so heavily chaperoned and contrived. We hardly had time to talk of anything of substance.” He opened his eyes.
She frowned at him. “I distinctly remember sneaking away into your family’s library and instead of talking about substance, you kissed me.”
Mark hung his head. “I was also randy, yes.” I’ll never get an heir now.
“So you thought I was stupid.” Her tone was glacial.
“Obviously I was wrong.” Mark cursed himself. She’ll never love me now. That felt so much worse.
Her leg twitched in agitation, and Mark leaned farther away in case she got it into her mind to kick him. Not that he didn’t deserve it.
“It seemed like all you knew was watercolor and French. And I was coming from what had been the best time of my life, at Oxford, where I’d debated all sorts of philosophy and translations and I’d hoped I could continue those conversations with you.
I wanted a marriage of the minds as well as hearts,” Mark told her desperately.
“I am not a stupid person!” Ellen stood, hands trembling with rage. “That’s why you fell out of love with me? You decided I didn’t meet your intellectual standards?”
Mark swallowed hard as he also stood. “I see the irony now, believe me.” Bitterness coated his tongue.
“You’re off saving half of London while I’m here organizing my books.
” His dream of translating Homer’s works into language accessible to British children seemed so trite in comparison.
Even if it did fly in the face of everything he’d been taught at Oxford.
She put her hands on her hips, and Mark was struck again by how incandescently beautiful she was now she didn’t hide herself behind sausage curls and simpering smiles.
“I was eighteen years old when we met! Do you know how restricted a girl’s education is? Of any class? Did you ever stop to think maybe I was as bored of watercolors and French elocution as you? You fucking bastard.”
Mark didn’t blink at her language. In his few times escorting her back from Seven Dials and St. Giles they’d heard a few colorful phrases. Somehow that filth on her lips made her seem even more real, more mature, than before.
“Fine, I was stupid. But not by nature. Not even by choice. It was forced upon me because intelligence is not a trait women should pursue.” Ellen jabbed a finger at him.
“You didn’t give me a chance to grow up or learn anything about the world before you made your ruling on me.
And who gave you the right to preside over a trial on my intelligence?
There are plenty of smarter people in the world than you, Mark. ”
Like you, for example. But Mark didn’t say it. He was fairly sure no matter what he said, it would be the wrong thing at this point.
Ellen raised her hands. “You decided I wasn’t smart enough, and instead of suggesting we move to Oxford, like I know you wanted to do, so I could take a university class or two, you joined the Navy? Good God, Mark.”
Mark had no defense.
“I can’t handle this.” She shook her head. “You’re right, we clearly married young and wrong.”
Not wrong! His heart plummeted into his boots.
“I’m sorry I ever pretended those falling leaves scared me.”
Mark shook his head. “Wait, what?”
She laughed mirthlessly. “I pretended to be fragile when we went walking because my mother said that’s what boys liked.
And because I could clutch your arm tightly.
You thought I was actually scared of leaves?
Good God, Mark.” Ellen spun on her heel.
“I’m done with this. I’m going to bed. Don’t expect me at breakfast tomorrow.
” She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
He buried his face in his hands and collapsed in the leather chair, still warm from her body. I don’t know how to fix this.