“I want to know,” she said. “I will not condemn you until you have had a chance to deny it. Is Miss Virginia Cox your mistress?”
He closed his eyes briefly and then looked at her again. “Who told you this, Arabella?” he asked.
“That does not matter,” she said. “I want to know if it is true.”
He said nothing for the moment, but stared back at her.
“It is true, is it not?” she said.
“I would rather not talk about this,” he said.
“Indeed!” Arabella showed emotion for the first time. “But I insist that we do. She is your mistress, isn’t she? Will you deny that you have been with her since our marriage? Can you tell me in all truth that you have not?”
“No, Arabella,” he said after a pause, “I cannot tell you that.”
“I did not believe it,” she said very quietly. Her hands were clenched at her sides. “Until this moment I did not quite believe it could be so. How could you do such a thing? How could you go to another woman and do . . . and do those things to her? You married me. You married me in church and swore before God . . .”
Lord Astor’s face had turned chalky white. “Arabella,” he said, “please don’t distress yourself. It is really quite unimportant. You are my wife. It is you—”
“It is ‘unimportant’!” she said, her eyes blazing into his. He looked away from her. “It means nothing to you, my lord, except base physical pleasure? Shall I tell you what it has meant to me? It meant pain on our wedding night, dreadful pain that lasted for several days. But I did not mind, because I was your wife and we had been made one, we were bound by a sacred tie. I have been careful in my duty to you, believing that only I could give you that. And I did not want you to be disappointed. And it is unimportant to you?”
“I did not mean you,” he said. “Arabella, please, let me explain.”
“I have never said no to you,” she said. “I have never shirked my duty. If it was not enough, if you wanted more from me, why did you not tell me or ask for what you wanted or come to me more often? I would not have denied you. I believe you know I would not. I have told you and I have tried to show during every moment since our marriage that I mean to be an obedient wife and that I wish to make you comfortable. You have sinned against me terribly to take a mistress.”
He turned away and walked to the window. He stood looking sightlessly out. “Yes, I have, Arabella,” he said.
“I know I am not pretty and that I do not know much about the world,” she said, “and I know you would have far preferred to marry Frances or some other attractive lady. I know that. But you did marry me. No one forced you to do it. You did it of your own free will. And so you took on a duty too. You owed it to me to be faithful. And I have always been willing to learn. If there was anything I could have done to make you more comfortable, I would have done it readily. But you have never asked, and you have never offered to teach me.”
“Arabella, don’t do this to yourself,” he said, his brow against a pane of the window. “None of this is your fault, believe me. You have been everything I could expect of a bride, and more. Perhaps if you would let me explain ...”
“I don’t want to hear you speak,” she said, “and I don’t want to see you or feel your touch. I don’t want you near me anymore. I don’t want you in my bed. I know I am your wife and that I must remain so. And as your wife I owe you obedience. You will not find me disobedient in future, my lord. If you choose to speak to me, I will listen. If you choose to touch me, I shall not flinch. And if you choose to come to my bed, I shall receive you dutifully. I shall bear your children if I must, and love them too because they are mine and cannot help being yours. But I want you to know one thing. Everything I do for you from this moment on will be done out of duty alone. I will do nothing willingly.”
His hands gripped the windowsill. His eyes closed. “You will not find me making your life a misery, Arabella,” he said.
“I thought you were perfect,” she said. “I have felt awkward and tongue-tied and apologetic because I could not compete with your splendor. You have not deserved my admiration, my lord. I no longer respect or like you.”
He took a deep breath and turned to face her. “It is sometimes a dangerous thing to put a living person on a pedestal,” he said. “He has all the farther to fall. I am sorry, Arabella, but there is nothing I can say in my own defense, is there? I have a mistress, yes. She has been under my protection for longer than a year. I do not feel less for you as a result. But I have caused you pain and disillusionment, and I am sorry.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You may leave to do whatever it is you have planned for this morning. I have work to do here before taking myself out of your sight for the rest of the day.”
“I trusted you,” she whispered before turning and letting herself out of the room. “I was proud of you. I was trying to be your friend. This is worse ... Oh, this is ten times worse than losing Papa.”
Frances had tears in her eyes when she entered the morning room later to find Arabella with her sewing in her lap, though she had sewn only two stitches since picking it up half an hour before.
“Bella,” she said, “I have been up half the night thinking. I am so dreadfully selfish. I have a dressing room filled with new and fashionable clothes, and scarce a day has gone by since we arrived in town when there have not been two or three entertainments at the least and many more invitations to choose among. And last night I lay down with the intention of persuading you to go shopping with me for a new parasol to replace my blue one, which I thought was dreadfully old-fashioned after all. And then it came to me.”
Arabella bent her head over her sewing as Frances took her handkerchief from her pocket. “What came to you?” she asked.
“Mama and Jemima have had no treat at all,” her sister said, her face tragic. “No new clothes and no visits to town and no entertainments. Nothing, Bella. How selfish I am! I have scarce spared them a thought, and I have written to them only when you have insisted. Dear Bella. You have such a good heart. I shall never forget the sacrifice you made for my sake.”
“You forget,” Arabella said quickly, “that Mama and Jemima are quite ecstatic to know that you have had such an opportunity, Frances. Mama derives her happiness from knowing that you are happy. And as for Jemima, her turn will come when she is older. I daresay his lordship will . . .” She paused and swallowed painfully. “I daresay he will see to it that she is brought out too when the time comes.”
“He is so very kind,” Frances said, smiling bravely, watery blue eyes sparkling over the top of her handkerchief. “And so are you, Bella. Will you come with me now to the shops so that I may buy gifts for Mama and Jemima? Mama would like a new pair of kid gloves. And for Jemima perhaps I will buy the parasol I would have liked for myself. Do you think that would be a selfless plan?”
Arabella smiled and folded up her work neatly. “I shall order the carriage,” she said. “Don’t forget to bring your book too, Frances. We might as well go to the library while we are close.”
“Am I dragging you out against your will?” Frances asked, frowning and forgetting her tears and her handkerchief as Arabella looked up and rose to her feet. “You do not look well, Bella.”
“I am all right,” Arabella said. “Just a little tired, that is all.”
