Chapter 9
Having spent the night alone, having had many hours to think about her new circumstance, Ophelia woke up on the first day of her new life in a far worse mood than one might expect.
Certainly, it was one that even Ophelia was not used to feeling, as even during the worst moments of her life, she always tried to look on the bright side.
That first morning, however, things were simply different.
She was woken up by her handmaiden; the young woman opened the curtains, which brought the morning sun into the room. The feel on Ophelia’s face should have seen her smile, but she answered it with a groan and a grimace.
“Oh, I am so sorry, Your Grace,” the handmaid apologized. “I did not mean to –”
“It is fine,” Ophelia said, forcing a smile because she did not want to take her bad mood out on someone who did not deserve it. “And thank you for waking me.” She looked about herself, frowning as a thought came to mind. “How did I… I do not remember falling asleep last night.”
“Excuse me, Your Grace?” The young handmaid blinked.
The last memory that Ophelia had of the previous evening was rocking Harriet to sleep. And while she had not intended to do so, she could have sworn that she’d fallen asleep in the chair.
I must have wandered back to my room in a daze. Strange that I do not remember.
“Oh, nothing,” she sighed, her mood plummeting even further. She was not herself; her mind was fractured, and Ophelia could not fathom how she might pull herself together. Or if such a thing was possible.
“I have had a bath drawn for you, Your Grace,” she was then told. “After which, breakfast will be ready when you wish for it.”
“Thank you.” Another forced smile as the handmaid hurried from the room.
Although Ophelia did not expect much from Adrian, she still expected something.
That he would, at the very least, try and make this new arrangement not the worst of things.
Last evening, for example, would it have killed him to have spent some time with her?
To have shown her to her new home? To have given some indication that this new life of hers would not be a tragedy worthy of a Shakespearean play?
Clearly, this was not the case. Their marriage was as he had said, and as hard as Ophelia tried to reckon with that reality, it sat wrong with her, and her sour mood reflected it.
Thus, she took her time readying herself for breakfast. A long bath. She did not hurry to dress herself. And her visit to Harriet, to check the baby was well, lingered for close to an hour.
I should not grow so attached, even if Harriet is the only source of joy I can find in this place.
Finally, well over two hours after she woke, Ophelia made her way to breakfast. The table was set, and she took her place toward the end, nodding vaguely as the footman explained to her what was on offer, while asking what she wished to eat.
“I do not mind,” she sighed. “Whatever is easiest.”
“Ah…” The footman frowned. “I would… whatever you wish for, Your Grace. We are happy to be of service, of course.”
“The first thing you said,” she said simply, unable to find any enthusiasm whatsoever. “Yes, that will do.”
The footman still appeared unsure but he bowed deeply and hurried from the room. Then, Ophelia turned slightly to look out the window. A beautiful day, the sun shone warm, birds could be heard singing from the treetops, but it hardly fazed Ophelia.
It was just so unlike her, and she wanted desperately to snap herself from this funk. Alas, such things were not so easy. And the reason for it… Well, he just then happened to walk into the breakfast room.
“Good, you’re awake,” Adrian said when he saw her sitting alone. He strode into the room, heading for his seat at the end of the table.
Ophelia looked up, and that time she did not waste the effort it took to smile. Her husband wore his usual glower, an ever-dark presence that even the morning light could not break, nor did he appear as if he wanted it to. Even his eyes, sharp blue and piercing, held no sense of warmth.
“Good morning,” she said simply.
“You slept well?” he asked as he sat down.
“Do you care?” she sighed without thinking.
He frowned at the response. “Is something the matter, Ophelia?”
“Why would you say that?”
He continued to frown at her in a way that might have suggested he was concerned was it anyone else. “You seem… upset.”
“I am fine,” she said without looking at him. Perhaps it was a little immature to behave with such dispassion and antipathy, but Ophelia had been nothing but kind and generous since her arrival and it made no difference. So why bother?
“As you say.” He cleared his throat as he turned and indicated to the footman. They spoke for a moment, but Ophelia did not listen. Once the footman hurried from the room, Adrian turned back to face her. “I asked about your sleep because I found you last evening, passed out in the nursery.”
That had her looking up. “You… you did?”
“I was forced to carry you to bed,” he said simply. “A good thing, because if I did not, I wonder how you might have managed to do so in a new home when you woke in the middle of the night.”
It was Ophelia’s turn to frown.
Adrian did not sound as if he wished for praise. It did not look as if he was bragging or expecting her to be grateful. He spoke clearly and simply, merely giving her the facts.
And yet, the simple action had Ophelia considering him once again.
Every time that she thought she knew her husband and what she could expect from him, he went and did something that surprised her.
Further proof that he might not be exactly as she presumed of him…
that there was more there than even he knew.
“Thank you,” she found herself saying. “I had no idea.”
“I could not very well leave you,” he said dismissively. “You are my wife.”
It was that final word… wife. While Ophelia doubted that Adrian meant it in any meaningful way, it stabbed at her so that she flinched back. Worse still, it saw the return of her sullen mood. With one hand, he gave, with the other, he took. What did he want with her?
“Oh, so you know who I am?” she said sharply, again without thinking.
“Excuse me?”
She considered saying nothing. Never one to complain, the last thing that Ophelia wanted was an argument.
But she thought back to the previous evening, how lonely it had been, how wrong it had felt.
Yes, their marriage was one of convenience, but did that mean it had to be so dreadful?
Did it mean that she would be forced into a life of isolation and misery?
And when Harriet’s true father was found, what then?
I will be utterly alone, and I doubt that Adrian even cares.
“Last night,” Ophelia began carefully, not wanting to sound too aggressive. “It was… it might have been nice if you have not abandoned me.”
“I did not abandon you, Ophelia,” he said. “I merely visited a friend. As I just told you, I returned home. It is not as if I spent the evening at a tavern or something of that nature.”
“What you did makes little difference,” she said, a small spike of anger felt inside of her. “The simple fact was, it was our wedding night, and it would have been right if we spent it together. It is expected.”
“Expected by whom?”
“Everyone!” she cried before she could help it.
A deep breath, she steadied her breathing and looked pointedly at Adrian.
“I know what this marriage is, nor do I want anything different. But at the very least, it might be nice if you considered my feelings. If you dared to think of anyone other than yourself.”
Adrian studied her, but it was not done in anger. Rather, it was confusion that took his visage, as if he truly had no idea what she was so upset by.
“I do not understand,” he spoke slowly. “Are you saying you wanted me with you last night?”
“Why is that so strange? It was our wedding night. Is that not the point?”
“And then what?” he pressed. “What did you think might happen?”
“I –” She went to speak but caught her tongue, as she truly had no idea what her answer would be.
“This is all so new to me, Adrian. In time, perhaps I will grow used to it and find my place. But until I do, it would be nice if you…” She shook her head and laughed bitterly.
“If you saw things from my perspective. To spend one night with me, to ensure that I was not alone. Is that really too much to ask for?”
It was subtle, but she could have sworn that she saw a smirk reach his lips. Of course, he smothered it quickly, back to the same emotionless expression that he always wore.
“I do wonder, are you aware of what you ask…”
“I have been perfectly clear.”
“No, I do not think…” He shook his head and sighed. “Traditionally, the wedding night is the first night that a husband and wife become intimate with one another.” He looked right at her, making sure his point was clear. “As in, were I here, we would be expected to go to bed with one another.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. “What? No! I did not…” She leaned back, looking around as if to check that nobody else was in the room. Oh yes, and her cheeks flushed so pink that her face started to burn. “I did not mean it like that!”
“You see now why I was so confused.”
“I only meant…” She grimaced and leaned in, dropping her voice. “Please know that I was not implying that you and I… I would never…” Somehow, she felt her cheeks flush even further. “That was not my meaning.”
“I did not think that it was.” Thankfully, Adrian did not laugh at her or appear to judge. “We spoke of such things; having an heir is my meaning. And you made it quite clear, as did I, that this was not the intention of our marriage.”
Ophelia had never felt so embarrassed!
She cursed silently to herself, unable to believe what she had said. All she had wanted was to make it known how upset she was, the first time ever she had thought to complain. And this was the result!
“Forget that I said anything…” She mumbled and looked down at the table. “Please.”
“There is no need to be embarrassed,” Adrian said simply.
“Easy for you to say…”
“I do wonder,” he continued, still speaking plainly. “Such things, while not discussed openly, are still known by young women. Did your mother not teach you?”
“My mother?” She looked up and blinked as if surprised. “I thought you knew? My mother, she passed away when I was very young.” She winced as if from pain. Although Ophelia had no memories of her mother, she did not like to speak of her.
“I am sorry,” he said, almost as if he believed it. “I had no idea. Might I ask how?”
“Oh, it is not great story,” she sighed.
Ophelia was going to leave it at that, but Adrian continued to watch her, a sense that he was interested.
It was not much, but that he cared about her at all…
well, it meant something. “She died giving birth to my brother. Sadder still, he died only a few days later. That is why it is just my father and I.”
“Which is why you are so close,” he said for her.
She smiled, often the case when thinking about her father. “We are that. He is all I have in this world, as I am all he has.”
Adrian said nothing for a moment, chewing over her response. Ophelia assumed that would be the end of the conversation, always under the presumption that he had no desire to get to know her. Once again, a startlingly common occurrence, she misread him completely.
“But that is not entirely true either,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked quickly.
“If the two of you are so close, I cannot help but wonder why he sent you away as he did? For three years, you told me. I would think that if you were as close as you claim, he would never have done such a thing.”
“Oh…” Ophelia blinked and her stomach knotted.
There was a good reason for what her father had done, just as there was a good reason that Ophelia did not like to speak about it. Until now, she had managed to avoid the topic with Adrian, just as he had not bothered to press her on it.
Likely, he knew that she was hiding something, and while it was nothing to be ashamed of, she suddenly realized that perhaps she should have told him sooner. And whether that might have affected his decision to marry her.
“It is… there is nothing that…” She fidgeted. “Sometimes, these things happen.”
“But why do they happen?” he pressed. “Clearly, there must have been a reason.”
He looked at her without blinking. It was not aggressive or assertive, but it told Ophelia that Adrian wasn’t going to back down or be convinced to drop the topic. She winced, her stomach continued to twist, and guilt took her.
He has a right to know. Even if it is sure to infuriate him...
“I –" She started to speak but was quickly interrupted when the wet nurse swept into the room.
“Your Grace! There you are!” The wet nurse was a middle-aged woman who Mr. Watley had assured Ophelia was responsible for the rearing of dozens of children in the residence, one who could be trusted and knew her business.
And while Ophelia believed and trusted him, to look at her then called such trust into serious question.
“What is it?” Adrian turned and his voice became hard.
“Oh.” She blinked and cowered back. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I was speaking to…” She grimaced and looked warily at Ophelia. “Her Grace is who I…”
“Harriet.” Ophelia was on her feet. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing severe, I promise you,” the wet nurse said. “But she has become somewhat unruly. I finished feeding her just now, and while she needs to sleep, she cries and refuses to rest. I know not what to do,” she sighed. “Ordinarily, I am quite good at reading –”
“Let me see to her.” Ophelia hurried toward her, somewhat glad for the distraction.
“I think that is for the best, Your Grace.”
Ophelia sighed with relief as she followed the wet nurse.
She was certain that Harriet was fine, and she likely just needed a familiar face to calm her down.
But that it was a chance to end her conversation with Adrian was something to be grateful for, and hopefully, by the time that she saw him again, he would forget their topic.
“I will come to.” Adrian walked after them.
Ophelia started and turned around. “Oh, there is no need to –”
“Of course there is,” he said without emotion. “Until her father is found, Harriet is in my care. It is only right that I come.”
Ophelia looked at him with confusion. She frowned with surprise. She blinked through her shock because once again Adrian was acting in a way that she did not expect. Did he care about Harriet? Or was it his own reputation that concerned him?
Whatever it was, he continued to prove that he was more than she thought. A small thing, perhaps, but it was something to hold onto.