What her sister was not telling her, Jane could not imagine. She knew how stubborn Lizzy was and she had already made it clear—more than once—one day she would share her reasons for marrying the Duke. She suspected Aunt and Uncle knew, but had been sworn to secrecy. Hence they would not share it with her without Lizzy’s permission.
At her compassion, I almost lost my composure. One or two tears escaped and would you believe the Queen used her own handkerchief to dry my cheek.
Since my return, I have only seenhimat dinner and some evenings. Not seeing him at all would still be too often for me.
When you reply, please post your letter, and all subsequent ones to Falconwood. You can choose either Hertfordshire or Buckinghamshire as the estate straddles the border between said counties.
I was told we depart on the morrow. I will admit I am curious to see the estate. All I can do is hope there will be good paths for me to take my constitutionals again. How I have missed them while I have been languishing athishouse.
If I enjoyed wagering I would take one on the fact I will have a shadow when I walk out. It is not that the man is worried I will run off—he is secure in his knowledge I will not—but he likes to control everything and having me watched so closely is another way he does that.
We leave Town on the morrow, Dearest. We will be at the estate by the afternoon.
Please give my warmest regards and love to our sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Your loving sister,
Lizzy
“Jane you do not look happy,” Madeline observed as she spied the pensive look on Jane’s countenance.
“Read this and you tell me,” Jane thrust the letter forward into Aunt Maddie’s hands.
As she read, the ire she felt towards His Grace rose significantly. If he had been nearby, Madeline would have been the one doing the striking.
Thankfully the despicable man had not physically beaten Lizzy. Madeline was sure had he done so, her Edward would have rushed to his home and tried to gain entry to revisit the favour upon the Duke’s head ten times over. As well deserved as it would have been, she selfishly much preferred her husband alive and well.
“Lizzy will be well, she has to be,” Madeline stated as she handed the letter back to her niece. “The letter to Charlotte will go in the post on the morrow.”
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Elizabeth had been told the coach ride to Falconwood would be about four hours, roughly the same length of time had they been travelling to Meryton. On the whole, she did not object to riding in a carriage. At least that had been true when the company was better, much better than the objectionable man sitting opposite her on the forward facing bench.
Even though it was the norm to allow the lady to face forward, the old man had used the excuse of his becoming sick if he faced the rear.
She cared not, as long as she did not have to sit next to him. Just the day before her monthly disposition had come, which was both a blessing and a curse. The former because she would have almost a week withouthissweaty, smelly, corpulent presence in her bedchamber, while the latter meant she was not with child and would have to suffer his coming to her some nights once her indisposition was over.
A prayer of thanks was offered for the fact her husband had fallen asleep soon after the coach passed the outskirts of London. His loud snoring was far preferable to having to converse with him.
At the almost two hour mark, they reached the same inn that had been used in the past travelling between Town and Meryton. It was about halfway between the two. Hertfordshire was just waking up when he noticed his wife had exited the conveyance and was entering the inn with her maid—who had been travelling in a following carriage—and Wickham as an escort.
While Elizabeth went to the necessary her maid stood outside the door and Wickham was standing at the end of the hallway.
“This way, Your Grace,” Wickham stated once the Duchess exited the privy. “His Grace has a private parlour so you may enjoy some food and drink.”
Knowing it would be cutting off her nose to spite her face to refuse as she needed some tea and perhaps something to eat, Elizabeth nodded and allowed her husband’s guard dog to lead her to the designated room.
The landlord, who felt the compliment of a duke and duchess patronising his establishment keenly, was falling over himself to make sure the noble personages’ needs were met.
There was an enormous platter, piled high with sandwiches on the table—far more than ten, never mind, two people could hope to eat. Some had been made with mutton and others with cheese. Elizabeth asked for a cup of tea and helped herself to a cheese sandwich.
“I trust you are comfortable, my dear,” the Duke drawled.
“Adequately,” Elizabeth averred succinctly.
Seeing his wife was not in the mood to converse, Hertfordshire concentrated on his second mug of ale and the half dozen sandwiches he had placed on his plate.
Elizabeth sat silently as the man consumed sandwich after sandwich and then washed it all down with his third mug of ale. She knew not how he could eat so much after the enormous breakfast he had eaten.
