She shook her head. There had never been an “us.”
What she did know because of the message was that Mars was alive, and that did make her glad.
Lord Dervil was alive as well. His lordship had sent her a letter stating he had asked her husband’s permission to contact her, except Mars had told him to petition his wife directly.
At least her husband had that right.
His lordship requested permission to call upon Clarissa when he was next in Maidenshop. She had not replied. She didn’t know how she felt about Lord Dervil.
Clarissa had turned to her friends the matrons for advice. They had met as a group yesterday afternoon. All of them, including the Dowager of Winderton. After being plied with sherry, Clarissa had confessed she didn’t know what to do with her marriage. Mars didn’t understand her. She didn’t understand him. Perhaps it had all been a big mistake.
Except, instead of commiserating, she’d been given some stern admonishments about staying out of her husband’s affairs.
“Do you think I agree with everything Mr.Summerall preaches from the pulpit?” Mrs. Summerall said. “Of course not. However, I like my marriage, so I don’t correct him.”
“We are talking life and death,” Clarissa had pointed out. “Lord Marsden wanted to kill a man. Certainly you can’t agree with that.”
“Pshaw!” Mrs. Warbler had answered. “In the military, dueling was the quickest way to resolve a problem. Men are so hotheaded that grudges could fester. My husband, the colonel, always said he preferred dueling rather than listening to them natter on about perceived insults and slights. Some men are very touchy.”
That information hadn’t even made sense to Clarissa. Shouldn’t the king’s troops be shooting the French instead of each other? No wonder the war had taken so long to settle.
And there were many women in the group who hadn’t hesitated to let her know they thought she was being demanding. She was a countess now. Aristocrats shot at each other. It was what they did.
Consequently, Clarissa wasn’t pleased with the world in general. Therefore Gibson’s refusal to let her take the pony cart did not sit well. So much for being a countess.
The problem was, Clarissa felt she had need of spiritual guidance this shining Sunday morning. She didn’t know what to do. She missed Mars. She felt as if a part of her had been hacked off and she felt off balance and more than a touch lost.
She’d turned to her friends yesterday hoping they would reassure her that not only hadshe been in the right, her husband would see it as well.
That had not been the case. These women who had been married for years and who had supported her for most of her life had turned on her. They’d made her feel as if perhaps she had been too rigid.
It also didn’t help that for the past few nights, she’d found it torturous to sleep alone.
The one bright spot was Dora. She’d worried the baby would forget who she was, especially with Mrs. Rucker nursing her.
Instead, Dora had welcomed her with one of her brightest smiles and a squeal of delight. Since Clarissa had returned, she’d not let the baby out of her sight except for feedings. And the more she was around her, the more Clarissa feared she would not be able to make the right decisions when it came to Mars. She’d learned she wasn’t one to go through the motions.
She was also too sensitive over the fact that Mars had married her for his daughter. Dora would grow quickly and then he would question his reasoning for taking a wife. They would grow apart and she didn’t know if she could bear the sadness of a shell of a marriage.
So it was that on a lovely summer morning when the sky was deep, deep blue and the bees were busy, Clarissa rode in a coach to Sunday services. At the last moment, she decided to leave Dora behind with her nurse. A tooth was coming in and Dora was very out of sorts. She’d finally settled into a nap and Clarissa was loath to disturb her.
She also knew Reverend Summerall would not appreciate a fussy baby during one of his sermons.
Belvoir’s matched team were faster than any pony cart could ever be. She arrived very early for the service. Mr. Summerall was fussing around, preparing for church, but no one else was there. Clarissa was rather happy to have a moment alone.
Hodner climbed down from the box, leaving the driver to hold the horses. He knocked on the coach door before opening it.
“We are here before everyone else, my lady. Do you wish to wait in the coach or would you like to walk a bit?”
“How well you already know me, Hodner,” Clarissa said. “I would indeed prefer to walk a bit. You can drive the coach home. I won’t be needing you until after the service and that will be close to one o’clock.”
“I believe his lordship would wish us to wait.”
She’d just had an argument with Gibson, she wasn’t going to let Hodner defeat her. “If something comes up, I shall go to Mrs. Warbler’s house to wait. There won’t be a problem.”
The expression on his face said he believed there would, and yet he was powerless to countermand her. He dutifully helped her alight from the coach. She straightened her straw bonnet that had tilted slightly when she’d gone through the door, and noticed the graveyard.
She’d meant to pay her respects to her mother’s grave when she’d first returned but hadn’tmade the trip yet. Her mind had been too full of worries.
