A Simple Lady (9 page)

“Besides,” the dowager continued, seeming, as she so often did, to read Elizabeth’s thoughts, “Jeremy will not even know you are in London until this fall.”

“He will not?” Elizabeth asked, unaware that her eyes had widened with hopeful relief.

“No. Gerald informed me that Jeremy left for Scotland immediately after the wedding on the pretext of checking on one of his properties there. He usually doesn’t undertake extended trips without stopping to see me first, but this time, of course, he was too embarrassed to face me. As he should be! Marrying you and then growing angry when he learned you were not simpleminded. Just like a man!”

Elizabeth’s spirits were lightened by this very welcome news. Knowing she wouldn’t have to face her husband, she could begin looking forward to her stay in London. She smiled to herself, picturing the bookstores, the museums, the theaters.

“We will go immediately to the best dressmaker in town,” the dowager said with a smile as bright as Elizabeth’s. “Of course, I have been away for many years and no longer know who is in vogue with the
ton
.”

“Madame Chemier was quite renowned when I visited London last year,” Elizabeth said, recalling with a twinge just how much she had longed for only one of the modiste’s gorgeous creations. Knowing she could never afford even a chemise from the hands of Madame Chemier, Elizabeth had been forced to admire the dressmaker’s work from afar, surreptitiously observing the ladies who appeared in the park or theaters wearing Madame Chemier’s distinctive riding habits and gowns.

“Ah, yes. I keep forgetting the squire’s wife took you to London with her. It is too bad she was away from home when you went to visit her last month.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, recalling her disappointment upon arriving at the squire’s house and being informed that the whole family had moved to Bath for the summer. Even the vicar had been away from home that day, and Elizabeth had been forced to fight back tears of loneliness and frustration during her journey back to Cramdon Cottage.

“Never mind, dear,” Mary said, reaching to pat Elizabeth gently on the hand. “I am sure the Wilsons have not forgotten you. No doubt they would have notified you about their plans if they’d known how to reach you.”

“True,” Elizabeth said. “And now I don’t know their address and thus can’t let them know that I’ll be in London.”

“Exactly my point, my dear. Circumstances don’t always allow us to notify our friends when our plans change. For example, I told only my servants that I was traveling to Cramdon Cottage. One would have thought I intended to visit the Antipodes the way the silly creatures carried on. I had to become quite firm with them. How is Apollo?”

Elizabeth accepted the change of subject gratefully. Lifting the lid of the basket sitting beside her on the seat, she peered inside. “Sleeping peacefully,” she announced. Then, “May I ask you something, Mary?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“Once we reach London, what are your plans other than going to the dressmaker?”

“I suspect town will be a bit thin of company, but I hope to find a few old friends who have not yet departed for their country estates. As soon as our wardrobes are refurbished, we will begin paying morning calls. I might even plan a small card party or a musicale. When I was young, I dreamed of becoming a great hostess. Perhaps I shall try my hand at it now.”

Elizabeth looked at her mother-in-law, saw that Mary was lost in her daydreams, and leaned back to close her eyes and begin envisioning her own hopes for London. Surely the dowager marchioness would not object to just a few trips to the museums.

Three weeks later the Dowager Marchioness of Kenrick sat at her breakfast table in the company of her daughter-in-law. Both ladies were attired in charming new gowns from the renowned Madame Chemier, and both had new coiffures from the hands of the most sought-after stylist in London. Elizabeth, with a book from Kenrick House’s extensive library propped in front of her plate, was allowing her eggs to grow cold. The dowager nibbled a piece of toast while perusing the morning’s mail.

“How delightful! We have three more invitations for next Thursday evening, my dear. The Readmons are having a card party, the Merrills a reception, and the Martins a musicale. Do you have a preference?”

Elizabeth looked up from her book. “I beg your pardon, Mary. Did you say something?”

“Nothing important, dear. What are you reading?”

“A very fine translation of
Virgil
. The library here has a wonderful collection of books.”

“I think we should go first to the Merrills and then to the Readmons. Does that sound agreeable to you, my dear?”

“What? Oh, yes. Whatever you think best, Mary.” Elizabeth returned to her book as her mother-in-law continued opening the morning’s post. Both looked up quickly as words floated to them from the direction of the entrance hall—words delivered in a tone that was both hostile and determined.

“I shall announce myself, Larkman. After all, it
is
my house.”

“Jeremy!” The dowager jumped from her chair and hurried toward the doorway leading to the entrance hall. “Hello, my dearest. What an unexpected pleasure. Have you had breakfast?”

Elizabeth, torn between an urge to crawl under the table and a strong desire to bolt through the French doors leading to a side garden, sat stone still except for her heart which was now pounding so fiercely she feared its imprint could be seen through her fashionable primrose muslin.

The marquess was bending to kiss his mother’s proffered cheek, but his eyes had fastened onto Elizabeth. “Hello, Mother. Speaking of the unexpected, you may imagine my surprise when I stopped at Aston Arbor and were informed that you had left for Cramdon Cottage.”

The dowager had stepped back and was pulling her son into the breakfast parlor. His presence immediately seemed to fill the small room. Elizabeth, forcing herself to look at her husband, was surprised to find that his usually impeccable appearance showed signs of dishevelment. His riding boots were splattered with mud, the white tops almost brown, and perspiration had plastered his dark hair against his brow.

Kenrick returned Elizabeth’s stare, his eyes narrowed and cold. She breathed a sigh of relief when he turned to address his mother.

“When I reached Cramdon Cottage, I was told you had departed for London.”

“Yes, dearest. You were told that because that is what we had done. Sit down, Jeremy. I fail to understand why you appear so cranky. One would think I had no right to come to London if that was my wish.”

Although Kenrick obediently sat in the chair next to his mother, a deep frown clung to his forehead. “You have a right, ma’am, to go wherever you wish, but considering the fact that you had not left Aston Arbor in over twenty years—”

“All the more reason for me to travel a bit,” the dowager interrupted. “Especially when you have given me such a lovely surprise. I positively adore your darling Elizabeth already.”

“Do you?” Kenrick’s raised eyebrows appeared to express his opinion that there was no accounting for tastes. “I was not aware that you had been informed of my marriage. I had hoped to have that honor myself.”

“But Gerald said you were on your way to Scotland.”

Elizabeth had thought her husband’s frown could not grow deeper, but he quickly proved her wrong. “Gerald!” he repeated, his tone imbued with loathing. “I should have known.”

The dowager quickly jumped to Gerald’s defense. “It was quite thoughtful of the dear boy to ride to Aston Arbor to inform me of your nuptials. He feared I would hear from another source, especially as he had been informed that you were on your way to Scotland.”

Elizabeth was pleased to note that her husband had the grace to look a bit abashed.

“It is true,” he admitted, “that I did go straight to Scotland, but I soon decided I should return to apprise you of my marriage. When I learned from the servants at Aston Arbor that you had left for Cramdon Cottage, I hurried there and then from Cramdon Cottage to London.”

“No wonder you are out of sorts, dearest,” the dowager said, smiling contentedly because she had solved that small mystery. “What you need is breakfast and then a nice bath. Allow me to serve you some kidneys.”

“What I need,” the marquess said, his answering smile taut, “is a word in private with my wife. That is, if she can talk to me without stuttering.”

“Stuttering?” the dowager repeated, her eyes widening. “What a silly thing to say, Jeremy. I have never heard Elizabeth stutter even once.”

Elizabeth glanced into her husband’s face and saw, clearly reflected in his deepening scowl, a resurgence of the anger and suspicion he had exhibited during their last meeting in the drawing room at Cramdon Cottage. Taking a deep breath, she did the only thing she felt she could do. She jumped to her feet, hurried over to yank the French doors open, and bolted from the room.

Elizabeth spent the next ten minutes wandering about in Kenrick House’s small garden and thinking of all the things she should have done instead of running away like a frightened hare. She should have stood up to her husband. She should have glared him down. She should have said—she could not decide just what—but something scathing and profound that would have made him instantly ashamed of his suspicions. She should have— She heard the French doors opening and whirled around, only to breathe a deep sigh of relief when she saw it was only Mary stepping outside.

“What a lovely idea, my dear. The morning is perfect for a stroll in the garden. I hope you do not mind if I join you. I see you too forgot your bonnet. Shall we sit here on this marble bench in the shade? Jeremy is upstairs bathing, so we can be quite comfortable.”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded as she sat down beside Mary.

“Why did you not tell me about your occasional stutter, my dear?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I have always f-f-found it to be an embarrassing t-t-topic, my lady.”

“But you did not exhibit any speech problems until Jeremy arrived.”

“No. I only s-s-stutter when s-s-someone is angry with me.”

“Well, silly girl, stop stuttering to me. I am not angry with you.”

“You are not?”

“Of course not. Why should I be angry with you? If I appear angry at all, it is because I am truly infuriated with Jeremy for jumping to such terrible conclusions about you, simply because you stutter on some occasions and not on others. I made him relate to me everything that happened regarding your unfortunate speech impediment. Tell me, my dear, did this problem begin when you were a child?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Then that explains it.”

“It does?”

Of course. You see, my dear, most parents become angry with their offspring only when their children have done something wrong. From what you have told me of your childhood, it appears that your parents became angry with you even when your accomplishments were better than might have been expected. Naturally, when your very commendable efforts were rewarded only with anger and criticism, your youthful mind felt the need to object in some way. Unbeknownst to you, it chose stuttering. Even today, although you are quite grown up, your mind clings to its old habits. That’s why you stutter when you think someone is angry with you.”

Elizabeth’s eyes brightened with hope. “Do you think that’s the explanation? I must admit it makes a great deal of sense.”

“Of course it makes sense. You see, my dear, when people are angry with us, it is because they think we have done something to hurt them. Often, as it turns out, they have misjudged us or our motives. Thus, anger becomes a selfish emotion. Never, my dear, must you think you are deserving of another’s anger unless you have intentionally and cruelly performed an act designed to cause hurt. And I must say, knowing you as I do, that I cannot believe you would ever hurt anyone intentionally.”

Much struck by her mother-in-law’s reasoning, Elizabeth smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “You are very kind to me, Mary. I shall remember your words whenever I’m confronted by anger, and perhaps I can then control my speech.”

“That is an admirable goal, my dear, but you must not anticipate instant success. After all, this problem was many years in the making, and you should not expect to correct it in one day.”

But Elizabeth merely leaned over to kiss her mother-in-law’s cheek, her glowing expression indicating that the dowager’s warning had gone unheeded.

Two hours later, approaching the library where she had been summoned by her husband, Elizabeth clung to her mother-in-law’s words, hoping desperately that they would help strengthen her resolve not to stutter.

Tapping softly on the library door, Elizabeth was surprised to have the door opened to her almost immediately. Her husband had obviously been waiting for her. His earlier dirt had been washed away and his rumpled clothing replaced by his usual flawlessly tailored garb. His bottle-green coat fit exquisitely over broad shoulders, while his biscuit-colored pantaloons gave silent testimony to the fact that no padding was required to accentuate his calves. Only the coldness in his eyes suggested he had not really changed since their earlier encounter that day.

“Come in, madam,” he said in clipped tones, stepping aside to allow Elizabeth entrance.

Elizabeth smiled to herself, grateful that this interview was to take place in the library where she felt very much at home. Her husband, of course, did not know she spent most of her spare time in this room.

Forcing herself to walk slowly, Elizabeth nevertheless moved unhesitatingly to her favorite chair, a large leather wingback facing the window, where she seated herself. She was please to note that, judging by the expression on her husband’s face, she had surprised him a bit. No doubt, she decided, he had expected her to stand before him, wringing her hands and waiting edgily for him to begin ringing a peal over her head.

“You wished to see me, my lord?” Elizabeth asked as soon as the marquess had seated himself in the chair opposite hers. His back was now to the window, throwing his face into shadow. How convenient for her, Elizabeth decided. If he now raised his eyebrows or curled his lip in disdain, she would not be able to see.