But their relationship was fraught with rules, and those rules created tension.
She would only pretend to read on some of these evenings, wanting to tell him that she was happy with him, but also afraid.
What would she do if he was to actually die? If some tragedy befell him? Was it possible that he could subconsciously fulfill his own prophesy?
Her fears were irrational, she knew, and yet he was so very adamant about his destiny that it was beginning to frighten her.
And other worries took shape as well. She wanted to conceive, she did! She wanted to give him the reassurances that he sought, and yet also hoped it would not happen right away. She was fearful that once she’d fulfilled that purpose, he would push her even farther away.
There were times when she could almost believe that their arrangement was not meant to be temporary––times she felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to anyone before, but come morning, when she awoke, she was always alone.
She knew what he was doing. He was protecting her, or so he believed. He did not want her to become attached to a man who was certain to die. As if she could stop herself from developing feelings for him.
And she knew that it was as hard on him as it was on her. He sometimes woke her with his nightmares. On those occasions, she simply held him and stroked his hair.
In a much more straightforward manner, Lillian had begun to develop a delicate friendship with his sister. She had taken Bernadette shopping, and to museums and Gunter’s. The two of them had visited Sophia and even her mother on a few occasions. Her relationship with her sister-in-law was moving forward, slowly, but it was growing.
Her relationship with her husband was at a standstill.
They could not go on like this much longer, however. It was exhausting.
On the third day of the third week of their marriage they were finally going to attend a social event as a married couple.
She fidgeted in her room. She hadn’t ever been overly concerned with the opinions of others, but she had married in haste and there was always the possibility that people had leaped to unkind conclusions.
She had purchased a new gown and Becky had styled her hair into an unusually artful coiffure. Staring into the mirror, she inhaled a deep breath but then jumped when a knock sounded from the adjoining door.
He rarely sought her out in her chamber during the day and she felt oddly self-conscious.
“Come in!” The door swung open and he stepped inside. Dressed formally in a black woolen jacket, an evergreen waistcoat and a pristine linen shirt, he nearly stole her breath. His cravat had been tied pleasingly, his shoes were buffed and shined, and the trousers he wore could not have fit him any more perfectly. He seemed to have become even more handsome with each passing day. Her heart squeezed as he pushed his spectacles up and tentatively crossed the room.
“Turn around.” He requested.
When she did as he asked, she saw her own reflection. He stared at something in his hands, and then lifted his gaze to meet hers.
When he touched her shoulders, and then dropped a cool chain around her neck, a shiver rolled through her.
“Are you cold?” His voice sounded above her ear. But she could only shake her head in answer.
A diamond pendant rested at the top of the vee of her cleavage, sparkling with promise.
“It’s beyond beautiful. But not necessary.”
He met her eyes in the mirror. “You are beautiful, and I wanted to.”
It was an apology, she knew. But she didn’t want an apology. She wanted…
“I’m sorry,” He gave her a week smile before removing his spectacles and then running one hand down his face. “You don’t deserve any of this.”
He appeared nearly as miserable as she felt.
All of this was far more complicated than it ought to have been. She knew he wasn’t intentionally making things difficult, but she couldn’t help but be frustrated.
During the night hours, in the darkness, his touch was as familiar as her own. In the light of day, they tiptoed around one another, fearful that their words might be hurtful in some way––fearful of being hurt in return.
His gaze slid from her eyes to her bosom and then back up. He shook his head and blinked. “After you conceive, I think it might be best if you took Bernadette to Winter’s Edge.”
He’d hurt her before by suggesting they seek an annulment, and now he had done it again. Only this time it was worse. Much worse. This was something they ought to have discussed with one another. She’d married him, ironically enough, so that she would not live her life bending to her husband’s will.
