Chapter 11 #2
“That must have been difficult for him to say,” she replied. “Men who are accustomed to authority often find failure harder to confess than grief, and I imagine Ronan is particularly unaccustomed to allowing anyone to see uncertainty in him.”
“He did not excuse himself,” Augusta said.
“That was what surprised me. He could have said that the marriage had been arranged, that she was shy, or that neither of them knew how to begin, yet he placed most of the blame upon himself. He said he believed distance was kinder when she seemed afraid of him, although he now understands that he hid from the difficulty rather than trying to change it.”
“And what did you say?” Charity asked.
“I told him that silence had already cost him one relationship, and that he should not allow shame to create the same distance between him and Sarah,” Augusta replied.
“She wants him to spend time with her, although she has been taught not to disturb him, and he appears to believe that providing everything she needs is the same as knowing her.”
Matilda’s expression became unusually serious.
“Does Sarah like him?” she asked.
“She loves him,” Augusta said. “That is part of the problem. She waits for him to enter the schoolroom, and when he walks past, she assumes his work must matter more than she does. Ronan does not know that, although I intend to tell him, and I have promised Sarah that I will arrange an evening for the three of us with stories and sweets.”
Matilda brightened again.
“You are going to make him sit and read fairy tales?”
“Yes,” Augusta replied. “Although I suspect he will read every story as though it were a legal document and then criticize the characters for making impractical decisions.”
“You should choose Cinderella,” Matilda said. “He might object to the prince marrying a woman after one dance, and then Sarah could explain that dukes have done stranger things after shorter acquaintances.”
Augusta gave her a warning look, although Charity laughed.
“I think you already belong in that household,” Charity said. “You understand what Sarah needs, and you are beginning to understand Ronan even when he does not understand himself.”
Augusta shifted uncomfortably.
“I would not claim that,” she replied. “There are moments when I think I see him clearly, and then he looks at me or asks something unexpected, and I realize that I have no idea what he intends.”
“What sort of unexpected question?” Charity asked.
Augusta looked down at her cup again.
“He asked whether I had ever been in love.”
Charity became still, while Matilda’s eyes widened with such enthusiasm that Augusta immediately regretted mentioning it.
“What did you say?” Matilda asked.
“I answered honestly.”
“And what did he say after that?” Charity asked, her voice gentler than Matilda’s.
“Very little,” Augusta replied. “He asked whether I was certain, and then the conversation ended soon afterward.”
Charity studied her face with the quiet concentration that had always made Augusta feel transparent.
“Did his question please you?” she asked.
Augusta gave her sister an irritated look. “You have become very skilled at borrowing Ronan’s methods.”
“I asked a simple question.”
Augusta placed her cup on the table.
“This is precisely why I did not want to describe the marriage,” she said. “Ronan and I are learning to live in the same house, and only beginning to speak honestly, although that does not mean I know what our marriage will become.”
Charity reached for her hand.
“No one is asking you to name it before you are ready,” she said. “I only wanted to know whether you were frightened, lonely, or regretting the choice you made, and nothing you have told me sounds like regret.”
Augusta looked at their joined hands.
“No,” she said quietly. “I do not regret it.”
Matilda tilted her head.
“Do you still think he murdered the woman?”
“No,” Augusta replied immediately.
The answer came without thought, and its certainty surprised even her.
Both sisters stared at her as Matilda leaned back in her chair.
“That was the quickest answer you have given since you arrived,” she said. “You spent an entire church ceremony certain that he was a murderer, and now you did not even stop to consider it.”
“I know he did not do it,” Augusta said, although she could not explain how certainty had taken root. “There were witnesses, and he was inside the house, and perhaps I should have accepted that from the beginning.”
“That explains why you know he could not have been the man you saw,” Charity said carefully. “It does not explain why you sounded offended by the possibility.”
Augusta looked towards the fire.
“I feel safe with him,” she admitted. “I do not know when that changed, and perhaps I should not feel it so completely when I have known him for such a short time, yet I do. When I am alone with him, I do not think about the cane or the figure in the garden anymore, and even when he is angry, I know he would never hurt me.”
Charity’s hand tightened gently around hers.
“Then trust what you have learned, although you need not stop asking questions,” she said. “Safety is not always something the mind proves in a tidy argument, and sometimes it is recognized through a hundred small moments that are difficult to explain separately.”
“It still feels foolish,” Augusta replied. “I distrusted Duncan for far longer, and he gave me fewer reasons to fear him.”
“You also knew Duncan wanted Charity, while you had no idea what Ronan wanted from you,” Matilda said. “Perhaps that made him more frightening.”
Augusta looked at her younger sister with reluctant surprise.
“That is almost sensible.”
“I am often sensible,” Matilda replied. “No one notices when I am hungry.”
Charity laughed softly and released Augusta’s hand.
“Temperance is arranging a ball next week,” she said as she reached for the teapot again. “She asked me to make certain you attended, and I told her I would invite you before you could invent a reason to remain at Ravenhill.”
Augusta’s attention shifted.
“A ball?”
“Yes,” Charity replied. “It will be smaller than the usual gatherings, although half the people we know will still attend, and Temperance insists that marriage is no excuse for disappearing from society. You should come, and Ronan should come with you.”
“I will come,” Augusta said, although her confidence weakened at the mention of her husband. “I cannot promise Ronan will agree, since he considers most social gatherings pretentious performances designed to exhaust sensible people.”
“Then tell him the ball will provide an excellent opportunity to observe pretentious performances at close range,” Charity suggested. “He may find that more appealing than dancing.”
Matilda smiled.
“Tell him you cannot attend without him, and then look sad until he agrees.”
“I will do nothing of the kind,” Augusta replied. “And I am perfectly capable of attending without my husband.”
“Will you ask him?” Charity said.
Augusta hesitated only briefly.
“Yes,” she replied. “I will ask, although I suspect he will refuse before I have finished explaining.”
Charity smiled as she refilled Augusta’s cup.
“Then perhaps you should make it a game,” she said. “You already know he cannot resist arguing with the rules.”
Augusta tried not to smile, although the image of Ronan’s suspicious expression appeared in her mind at once.
“I will ask him plainly,” she said. “And if he refuses, I shall attend alone.”
Matilda looked between her sisters, then shook her head with exaggerated disappointment.
“You are both being very dull,” she said. “He will come.”
“What makes you so certain?” Augusta asked.
Matilda reached for a biscuit from the tray.
“You said he remembers the things you tell him, he listens even when he disagrees, and he asked whether you had ever loved anyone,” she replied. “A man who does all that will not let you attend a ball without him, although he may spend several hours pretending that he intends to.”
Augusta stared at her, while Charity lowered her face to hide another smile.
For once, Augusta had no answer at all.