“My sister is nearing her confinement. Perhaps I should visit with her? Until she has the babe?”
“If that is what you want, I would not stop you.”
“Very well, I shall leave from town.”
“As you wish.”
Thirty-One
THORNTON HALL, KENT - JULY 8, 1814
HUGH
The first thingI noticed was the music. Or lack thereof. I would not have guessed that. Day after day, night after night, the pianoforte remained silent, gathering dust far too quickly. I had not noticed the tinkling of keys as she worked out a tricky passage, the lilting melodies, the rhythmic plunking when it was there. But its absence was unmistakable.
Her scent dissipated next. The jasmine and orange blossoms lingered for several days. It disappeared first from the study then the dining room. The drawing room and music room were next. After a week, it lingered only in her bedroom. After a fortnight, I could only detect it on her bedclothes. Soon I knew it would be entirely undetectable.
After her scent, her meal choices were run through. Instead of the flavorful combinations my wife preferred, supper after supper reverted to my mother’s preferences, dry and tasteless. I could not recall Mrs. Hudson’s meals ever being so bland, even under my mother’s direction. It was entirely possible that my taste buds had abandoned me in my sorry state.
Laughter too left the house. Gone were the days of easy smiles and jovial manners amongst the staff. Instead, their previous stiff behavior returned. I would have sworn that was my preference, but I could not say that now. Mrs. Tanner, the housekeeper who Katherine hired, appeared on the verge of turning in her notice every time she spoke to Mother. The tenants missed her as well; I heard nothing but questions of her welfare and anticipated return wherever I went.
Was it truly possible, having lived my entire life without her, that she had become so essential in a matter of months? Before her, I would have said that I was, if not happy, at least content. It should not have been so difficult to return to that state. But no, she was indispensable to my happiness now.
Night after night staring at an empty table proved that beyond a doubt. Worse was the sight of my mother in her position. The smug satisfaction with which she took her seat when she was well enough for supper made my stomach turn.
No one told me, I did not know, just how completely my wife would turn my life upside down in the best possible way. Or how I would ache when she was gone. She wrote, of course, from Lincolnshire. They were perfunctory letters with no empty promises of a swift return. And I returned with equally perfunctory letters urging her to take her time. As if her absence was not as though I had lost a vital organ.
I could not bring myself to ask for her return, to encourage her, to drag her back to where she had no wish to be. Not again. Never again. She would return to me of her own volition, or she would not return. I would never force her again. I made that vow every single night. And again, every morning after haunting dreams. Horrible dreams where I slaked my lust in her while she stared at me with nothing but contempt in her eyes. Deservedly so. Months and months she endured my attentions with nothing like a complaint, and month after month I baselessly assumed she welcomed those attentions.
What a fool. A monstrous fool.
* * *
Tonight,once again, Mother had taken Katherine’s place at the table. Every glance from my tasteless plate was a hateful reminder of my failures as a husband. She was chattering on about something insipid, as was her wont. I was wallowing in self-pity, as was my wont.
“You know, I may need to let Mrs. Tanner go. She simply refuses to make the changes I requested. We cannot have such impertinence from the help.”
Something about my mother’s tone drew my attention, and it was fortunate. My wife liked Mrs. Tanner; I knew she did.
“It is not your place to dismiss staff any longer. And, it is my understanding that Kate is pleased with her performance.”
“Well, Katherine is not here, is she? She abandoned her husband and ran off to whatever swamp she calls home. Which staff she is pleased with is hardly relevant. I am here to manage them, and I must be free to do so as I see fit.”
It was the exact sort of argument that would have won me over. Perhaps even as recently as a month passed. “Cannot possibly have another place setting at Christmas dinner, Kit cannot attend.” “She’s a vicious fortune hunter who purposefully locked herself in the closet to entrap you.” “Michael is determined to steal your fortune and title and left your father to die.” Something about the nonchalant manner in which she said it chafed. As if there was no question that I would allow her to denigrate my wife and do as she wished.
“I am sorry, Mother. I had not thought you were incapable of managing the household. Do not worry, I will handle arrangements with Mrs. Tanner in my wife’s absence, you need not tax yourself.”
“I did not say that! Of course, I am perfectly capable of managing any staff. But to tolerate such behavior, it is unseemly.”
“Mrs. Tanner stays. All of the staff stay. The curtains stay. The furnishings stay. The table stays as it is. This is Kate’s household to run as she sees fit. If you cannot or will not manage it in a manner that meets my satisfaction during herbriefabsence, then I will. Am I understood?”
It was, without a doubt, the most unkind speech Mother had ever heard from me. Perhaps from anyone. Her owlish eyes and gaping fish mouth announced her astonishment, plain for the world to see.
“Am I understood? Yes or no?”
Her “yes” was a quiet, petulant thing, and I had no doubt that I would pay for this in some not particularly subtle way.
“Good,” I replied, declaring the discussion over whilst pushing my unappetizing plate to the side. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I believe I’m finished.”
