But Patience was a mystery.
As yet.
He caught sight of a maid at the end of the corridor and hailed her when she might have vanished into the servant’s stairs. “Gellis! Do you know where my wife might be found?”
The woman curtsied and kept her eyes downcast, a reaction that made Arthur realize he stood before her barefoot and wearing only a shirt. He grinned and she blushed. “She went out, sir, early this morning it was.”
“Early? How early?”
“I should say it was nine or so, sir. She was already dressed when I brought her breakfast, but she had granted no direction as to how early she might desire it. Your mother calls for hers.” She curtsied again. “Mr. Stevens has said she must have her tray earlier tomorrow, sir, but perhaps the lady might advise us as to her expectations.”
“Of course, Gellis. I will ask her to do as much. I believe Carruthers House has a smaller staff and my wife may not have considered such details.” He began to turn back to the room, thinking of potential destinations. Home to Carruthers House? He hoped that had not been Patience’s choice. They had not yet been wed a day and it was early for her to abandon hope in him and the match.
“Sir, I wish only that she had not been obliged to wash in cold on her first day in the house,” Gellis said behind him. “She must know where the bell is, sir.”
Arthur thought the location of the bell was evident. What might be lacking was Patience’s desire to trouble anyone in the house. She did strike him as being quite independent. He smiled for the maid. “I will ensure that she does, Gellis. Thank you again.”
Gellis curtsied. “And congratulations to you, sir. Her ladyship ordered a lovely supper for us belowstairs last night and it was much appreciated, particularly as none of us had to serve.”
Arthur spun. “What is this? There was no dinner last night?”
Gellis flushed. “Her ladyship chose to have a tray in her room, sir, and your lady wife agreed to the same.”
Patience had eaten alone in her room on their wedding day?
He was a cur and a louse and nothing he could say could repair that damage.
He thanked Gellis and fairly ran back into Patience’s room, scanning it for clues. He leaned back against the door even as Tar wound around his ankles.
Where would she go?
If not her father’s home, what might be her destination on a Sunday? She might have gone to church, as he so seldom did. Did she have other friends in town? She might have gone to Bettencourt’s home. That was where he had encountered her before, after all, and the sisters might well be close.
The baroness had given her that page from the book of advice, the one about secrets.
Patience had gone to collect the book. He would wager his soul upon that.
Arthur returned to his room, rang for Taylor and dressed quickly. It turned out that Patience had not requested the carriage or coach that morning, which did give him pause. It was a considerable walk to Trevelaine House and again, he was stymied by a lack of knowledge of his wife’s inclinations. Would she walk so far as that? He hated that he did not know.
Arthur’s luck held from the night before, though, for the carriage no sooner arrived before the steps of the baron’s house in town than the door opened and Patience herself emerged. She was carrying a large bag that might have been heavy, and Arthur leapt out to greet her.
She wore a plain dark coat and he glimpsed a dress that might have been the one she had been wearing at her father’s shop on the day they first spoke after his return from Venice. Her boots were polished and plain, her bonnet graced with a single cluster of silk lily-of-the-valley. Banished were the soft curls that had framed her face at their wedding and her hair seemed to be pulled back with greater severity than ever.
Arthur had the strange sense that their wedding might not have happened at all, and that troubled him greatly.
As was his custom, he hid his uneasiness with a smile. He jumped down, keeping a hand upon the lead horse as there was no one to hold the team. To his relief, Patience came to him, one hand upon the brim of her hat and the other clutching the bag. The rain was no more than a slight mist.
“And so I guessed aright,” he said. “Did you walk all this way?”
“I did. The morning was fine.”
They eyed each other for a long moment, and he was humble by the questions in her eyes. “I am sorry that we parted badly,” he said, his words filled with conviction.
“As am I.”
“But if you will forgive me long enough to accept the surrender of a secret, I have one to share.” He gestured to the carriage. “Might I offer a ride, perhaps shelter from the storm?”
Patience smiled just a little, a sight that gave him hope, and tilted her head to study him. “Does your secret have to do with the book that is not truly a book, the one you left in the bookcase?”
