To distract herself from her unhappiness, Beth concentrated onClarissa’s problem. She tried to think of solutions but got nowhere. Ifshe had money she could send the girl to a distant town or even to theAmericas, if she would go. Did Clarissa have that kind of character?
If she had money she could offer it to the Greystones as a dowry, butthat would solve nothing. They did not simply wish to marry Clarissa off;they wished to get the fee offered by Deveril. If they were paid to foregothat marriage they would find another similar.
Besides, Beth had virtually no money. She had the guineas Miss Malloryhad given her, and Lucien had arranged pin money for her. But all theaccounts for the house, her clothes, and such like were settled by the deVaux man of business.
If nothing better occurred, Beth could help Clarissa to return to MissMallory’s, but that would be the first place her parents would look. Bethwas not even sure Miss Mallory would conceal the girl from them. Aunt Emmaalways had to balance her principles against business sense.
As she was sitting in her boudoir that afternoon, taking tea andworrying about the problem, Lucien came to join her. It was so unusual anevent these days that she felt panicked and quite unable to take advantageof the situation. She rushed straight at the subject on her mind.
“Did I tell you one of the girls from Miss Mallory’s visited me lastweek?” she chattered. “Clarissa Greystone. Her parents are selling her toan unpleasant husband. She expects an offer any day.”
The marquess raised a brow. “With anticipation?” he queried, obviouslynot outraged by the affair.
“No. With trepidation.”
“If he is not to her taste, she would be well-advised to reject hersuitor unless she puts money before other considerations.”
“Her parents do.”
“Yes, I hear Greystone’s rolled up,” he said off-handedly.
Beth wondered why he had come, if it was of significance. An awkwardsilence was growing, and so she picked up the topic, hoping for someworldly wisdom. “It seems a shame for the girl to be sacrificed for herfamily’s sake.”
He shrugged. “For her sake, too, surely. If the money’s all gone,she’ll end up as a governess if she’s lucky. Marriage is preferable tothat.”
This was pragmatic and possibly true. It irritated Beth. “There shouldbe some better way. No woman should be so forced ?”
She broke off as he rose angrily to his feet. “I wondered why you wereso obsessed by this silly chit. I am sorry, my lady, I have no mind to sitand have guilt heaped on my head again.”
With that he walked out of the room.
Beth sat stunned.
Was that what he thought? That she was cold to him because she stillharbored a grievance about her marriage? In one sense it was true ? shewould never feel comfortable with the way she had been forced to actagainst her will. But any tendency to blame Lucien had died weeks ago.
She saw how destructive her present behavior was. Nothing was lesslikely to detach the marquess from his mistress than being refused hiswife’s marriage bed and given only cold words. Her thought processes wereeven more tangled than poor Laura Montreville’s. Laura at least had aclear line of thought, no matter how unrealistic. Beth could not persuadeherself that she had been operating on logic at all, which was verygalling for someone who prided herself upon her intellect. Looked atobjectively, her husband had been kind and considerate throughout. If hecould not love her, there was no blame in that. He was willing to be asloving as was in his power.
She forced herself to acknowledge that she had been motivated by thatbase emotion, jealousy. Jealousy because she wanted more than kindness,more than friendship. She wanted him to return her love.
She loved him.
Beth took a deep steadying breath. How foolish, how very foolish tohave succumbed, and how useless to expect him to reciprocate. What onearth was she to do?
If she were free, Beth would have put herself as far away from themarquess as possible. What other sane course was there for a womanbesotted by a man who merely found her bearable? That choice was notavailable. The only other thing to do was to fight. Impossible as it mightseem she must gamble that she could one day gain his love, and undoubtedlythe first step to that was the consummation of the marriage. Theunnaturalness of their lives and her own anxiety and longings hung likethe sword of Damocles over them.
Being a logical woman, Beth resolved to sort this all out in thestraightforward way, in writing.
It was not quite as easy as she had hoped. One problem was that shefelt it necessary to be discreet in case the note should be read by athird party. Another was deciding quite how much she was willing to say.She could not even think how to start it. My lord? My Lord Marquess?Lucien?
Eventually she wrote.My dear husband.That at least addressed the point inquestion.
At your convenience,she wrote at last,Iwould wish to speak to you in my bedroom on a matter of importance.Postponing matters in the hope of change in me seems unlikely to lead tosuccess. Perhaps the elimination of anxiety in that respect would serve usbetter.
There. That seemed clear enough, and if he were in any doubt, the wordbedroomshould eliminate it. She signed it,Beth,folded it, and sealed it thoroughly, stamping the wax withthe de Vaux arms.
Then she felt a strong urge to tear it into tiny pieces and dispose ofit somewhere.
She would not let herself play the coward at this point, however. Sheleft the note on his shaving stand in his dressing room. It was only latershe was informed he would not be in for dinner that evening but wasengaged with friends.
