There was such genuine puzzlement in her question that Samuel couldn’t help but reply in a monotone, “I wouldn’t dream of it, madam.”
Considering him, she replied, “I wasn’t aware you had a sense of humor, Mr. Godwin.”
“Was that a jest?” he parroted.
“Take it as you will.”
That retort held a note of the Phoebe Voss he’d met in Haverford before thoughts of bankruptcy had dimmed her smile, and he was happy to see it return. Even if it was at his expense.
Samuel reached out, lifting the three baskets from her without waiting for permission, and when she tried to keep one for herself, he leveled an unrelenting look at her, and Mrs. Godwin sighed, nodding to the front door.
“My thanks, Mr. Godwin,” she murmured. “They are heavy.”
Nodding in acceptance, Samuel followed her out of the house.
Chapter 19
Drawing in a deep breath, Samuel considered the road ahead both figuratively and literally. The quiet pressed in around them as they walked, their footsteps underscoring all the many things left unspoken. Samuel kept his gaze fixed ahead, aware of her presence beside him without daring to look. It was not the easy quiet they had once shared, nor even the strained restraint of politeness, but something more oppressive.
“I apologize,” he said with a sigh. “I fear I spoke more harshly than I intended.”
“How much did you intend?” she asked.
“None.”
“It was far more than that,” she whispered. “But I accept your apology.”
“When a day is particularly trying, I am used to having no one about, and thus, I do not have to keep hold of my tongue. That isn’t much of an excuse, but it is all I have to offer,” he added.
“What made your day ‘particularly trying?’”
The question was so extraordinary that Samuel didn’t know what to make of it; had it been anyone else, he would’ve thought it conversational. Was something afoot? He didn’t think himselfa suspicious sort, but the suddenness of her question gave him pause.
Mrs. Godwin glanced at him, and her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “Over the past fortnight, I have been speaking with Mrs. Broad about my duties to the parish, and it is clear that I must understand your work if I am to do mine.”
There was a long moment as Samuel considered that before answering, “Mrs. Whitcombe hired a new steward whilst I was away, and he is determined to wring every last farthing from the village. His predecessor was far more understanding and willing to compromise.”
“And having your wife antagonize his employer isn’t helping matters,” she added, a thread of self-deprecation laced in her tone.
Frowning at himself, Samuel said, “I suppose I owe you another apology for the harshness of my words then as well.”
“Are you keeping tally?” she asked with feigned innocence.
Weaving as much dryness into his answer, he replied, “From what I understand of ladies, they do not need a man’s help tallying the wrongs committed against them.”
Mrs. Godwin considered him, and Samuel wondered if she would ever hear the humor in his teasing, but he supposed it was enough that she looked confused rather than offended.
“I asked for an honest marriage, so you needn’t feel sorry for telling me the truth, Mr. Godwin.”
“I am not,” he said with a shrug. “I am sorry I delivered the message so tactlessly. There is nothing wrong with anger, for it is an emotion like any other, but allowing our feelings to control us is never the proper course, and I am ashamed that I surrendered my good sense to my temper.”
Mrs. Godwin gave a strangled chuckle. “That is strangely comforting. Most would’ve assured me that it was all a misunderstanding or a mistake, but we both know your angerwas justified and you were right to say what you did. I didn’t realize how difficult I was being, and I am sorry to have caused such trouble.”
Glancing at him, she added in a quiet voice, “I hope you know I am trying to do better.”
“I do,” he said, though he found he had to clear his throat before he could continue. This felt far too much like a parent speaking to a child than a husband to his wife, and Samuel wished he knew how to get them on equal footing.
“It…” For all that the first word of her sentence emerged with her characteristic bluntness, her voice faltered as she stared down the road. “…It was distressing—and I cannot say that I appreciated the curtness with which you spoke to me then and now—but our marriage is bound to have more troubles than most.”
