I had been counting on the new friends I would make to distract me from the fact that my husband was intent on avoiding me.
How could I live entirely alone? I was not reclusive like Jonathan.
Tears welled up behind my eyes. It had been a long and eventful two days, so my emotions were quite justified. To my relief, Mrs. Linton left me alone in my room just as my tears began to fall. I stared at the elaborate blue and white furnishings, the comfortable looking bed, the polished writing desk, wardrobe, and vanity, until they all blurred behind my tears.
The room was perfect.
The coast, the sea, the house—I couldn’t imagine a single inch of it being any more beautiful.
Yet I couldn’t feel anything but dread.
Chapter Eighteen
ALICE
Time was a strange thing. Sometimes it crawled by slowly, and other times it passed in the blink of an eye.
My first ten days at Southcliff Manor crawled like a snail on a gravel road.
Never before had ten days been so long, or so lonely.
I had spent much of my time writing letters to Mama and Papa, Edmund, Owen, Annette, and even Charlotte. I had even grown bored enough to write a letter to my youngest brother, Simon, at Oxford. I doubted he would reply, but if he did, I would devour every word. The letters broke up the long days, giving me something to look forward to. The more of them I wrote, the more I would eventually receive.
Besides penning a ridiculous number of letters, I had started writing a novel. I had never imagined myself doing such a thing, but there was no better time than now. I had also collected an absurd number of seashells, completed several sketches and paintings, and taken walks for hours on the beach with Eliza.
But the highlight of each day was my morning ride. I had found my favorite and most compatible horse from among the options in the stables—a gentle, yet daring mare named Betsy. I had already explored the entire acreage on her back, discovering several hidden places to quietly sketch and paint without worrying about crossing paths with Jonathan.
I took my meals in the dining room, but he was never there. I had begun dreading coming downstairs for dinner only to find a single setting at the table. On rare occasions, we crossed paths on the staircase, but the extent of his greeting was a short and formal, ‘how are you?’ or ‘good day.’
Each morning, only once I had returned from my daily ride, I watched from my window as Jonathan made his way to the stables to saddle his horse. His excessive avoidance of me had unveiled far too many emotions that I hadn’t known existed in my heart. When I had insisted that we live separate lives within the same house, I hadn’t meantthisseparate. I had imagined that we might have separate rooms, but that we would dine together and share the occasional conversation. At first, his behavior had made me sad.
Then it began to vex me.
And now that my first ten days were through, raw anger pulsed inside my chest. What vexed me the most was that he still thought that I hadwantedthis marriage. He still thought that I had concocted this plan to secure him, and that I had never dreamed of love.
He could not have been more wrong.
Ihaddreamed of love, and I still did. I had sacrificed so much, all because of one reckless swim. I had begun to hope that perhaps Jonathan and I could forgive one another. I had felt a connection between us multiple times in Brighton. Had I imagined all of it? Or was it possible to discover it again? The disheartening realization had occurred to me over the pastten days that I had never kissed a man. And if our marriage continued like this forever, I never would. How could I live my entire life without being kissed?
These were secret thoughts I hadn’t revealed to anyone—especially not Eliza.
She seemed to be growing weary of my constant prattle. But she was the only one who would listen, and I no longer cared about what gossip she relayed to the other members of the staff.
“I passed him on the staircase today,” I said as she brushed through a large knot in my hair.
“Did ‘e speak to you?”
“All he said was, ‘good afternoon.’” I rolled my eyes. “Every time he looks at me, his eyebrows pull together like this.” I formed my face into an exaggerated scowl in the mirror.
Eliza laughed, but quickly corrected her smile.
“And then he flees from my presence as if I might attempt to rob him of every penny he owns! He still believes that I ensnared him. I just know it.”
“Ye might deny it again?”
“Surely he wouldn’t listen.” I shook my head. “I cannot even capture his attention for long enough to say a full sentence to him.”
“Have yetriedcapturing ‘is attention?” Eliza raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Ye seem rather skittish around ‘im yerself.” She began braiding my hair, but I turned abruptly in my chair.
