Elizabeth Mansfield (19 page)

With that hope she’d married him. And now she knew with certainty that it had been her life’s worst mistake. Before she met him she’d at least had peace. Now she had only pain.

As the rain continued unrelentingly to beat on the window-panes, she sat up in the dark bedroom, piled the pillows behind her and pulled the covers up to her neck. She’d made a mistake, and she had to think about what could be done about it. Certainly it could not be undone. Once a marriage was made, it was forever. Grants of divorcement were so rare that they were, in effect, unheard of. Unhappy couples could live separately, but divorce and remarriage were out of the question. Separation was, in fact, the first thing she thought of. Should she leave this house and take up a separate abode? she asked herself. Should she run home to her father? If she did, would her pain be less?

No, she reasoned after considering the possibility for a long while, running away was not the answer. It would not ease her wounded spirit to return to her childhood surroundings, and it would only pain her father to learn that she was unhappy in the life he’d so proudly purchased for her. And it would pain Robert, too. Before their marriage he’d expressed real revulsion toward the idea of separate abodes because of the gossip it would generate. He’d been glad she’d agreed to live in the country with him. If she wanted more from their “arrangement” than he could give, it was not his fault. He hadn’t promised her anything more than he’d given. He hadn’t promised her intimacy.

She shivered as the wind sent a flurry of raindrops battering against the windows. Was the rain keeping Robert awake, too? she wondered. Poor Robert. He, too, was suffering in silence. But he knew nothing of this internal struggle of hers. How would he feel if she left him now? He didn’t love her, but he would certainly be perturbed at her defection. She was, after all, making a home for him.

Now that she thought about it, she realized that separation would not in any way be a benefit to Robert. Her departure would not bring his Elinor back to him. He would not be able to have Elinor under any circumstances. He had to live with that pain, just as she, Cassie, had to live with hers. Therefore, she realized with a start, the best thing for both of them would be for her to continue to play her role. She would be no worse off remaining here than going back to London. In fact, there were some benefits to her in remaining where she was. She could continue to make a home for Robert, to be the lady of the house, to entertain their guests and do all the little things that a woman can to help a man achieve his goals. There was much to enjoy in this country life. All she had to do was to give up her dreams of love and intimacy

“Just give up my dreams,” she repeated aloud as she slipped down under her comforters and curled into a sleeping position. Giving up those dreams would be a painful adjustment but not unendurable. She’d accepted life’s limitations before. She could do it again.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Not many days later, Sandy announced his intention to depart. He had neglected some business matters for too long; his conscience could no longer permit him to postpone his return to London. Besides, he confided to Cassie, he wanted to be in town when Eunice returned. He intended, at that time, to press his suit in earnest.

On the morning he took his leave, everyone in the household stood on the steps waving farewell. As soon as his carriage rolled away down the drive, a wave of gloom swept over the household. The absence of his cheery face was deeply felt by all of them, even the children. It was as if a holiday had ended, and the serious business of life would now have to be resumed.

Later that day, while Cassie worked over her embroidery in the sitting room, Eunice prowled about the room aimlessly, crossing from the sofa to the window and back again and sighing so dejectedly that Cassie felt impelled to console her. “You needn’t fall into the dismals, Eunice,” she said with all the good spirits she could muster. “You’ll be back in town soon and will undoubtedly find Sandy waiting on your doorstep with flowers in one hand and his heart in the other.”

Eunice perched on the sofa beside her. “Do you think so, Cassie? That his heart is really engaged?”

Cassie smiled over her needlework. “I think you’ve held his heartstrings for years. He just couldn’t reveal his feelings before now. You were happily wed to Yarrow, after all. It is only since you’ve put aside your mourning that he’s been free to reveal himself.”

“But how can you be sure? His nature is so sweet and open that he showers affection on everyone. Why do you think I’m in any way special to him?”

“I am not at liberty to reveal confidences,” Cassie said primly. But she followed the statement with a giggle that clearly indicated what the content of those confidences had been.

“Oh, Cassie,” Eunice breathed “
really
?” This was followed by a long pause, and then, “Oh, dear!”

The second exclamation was not a joyful one. It sounded so troubled, in fact, that Cassie stopped stitching. “Goodness, Eunice, what is the meaning of that ‘Oh, dear’? You’re not going to tell me that
your
heart is not engaged.”

“I wish I knew,” Eunice said, leaning back against the sofa and tucking her legs under her. “I certainly enjoyed his company these past few weeks. And the girls have grown fond of him, too. But as for my heart … well, how can one be sure?”

Cassie’s eyebrows rose. “Are you saying you don’t know how to recognize the feeling of love? But, Eunice, you’ve been married! Don’t you remember your feeling for Yarrow?”

“Yes, I do,” Eunice said thoughtfully. “And it was equally bewildering at first.”

“Then it must have been later,
after
you were wed, that you knew you loved him, is that it?”

Eunice shook her head. “It was later, after I was wed, that I knew I
didn’t.
”

“Eunice!” Cassie gasped in astonishment.

Eunice gazed at Cassie with an arrested look, as if she were surprised at what had slipped from her tongue. “Good God, Cassie! I’ve never said that to another living soul! You, my dear, are astoundingly
easy to confide in.”

“Am I, Eunice?” Cassie felt a little twinge of pleasure at the compliment, for she’d never before been told such a thing. “That is very nice to know,” she said, blushing as she knotted her thread and bit it off. She stuck the needle into her pincushion and pushed the embroidery frame away, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “But, my dear, I’m not sure I understand just what it was you confided to me. Did you mean that you
never
loved Yarrow? Never in all your years together?”

“Not for a moment. The truth is, Cassie, that Yarrow was a fool. Oh, he was beautifully educated and quite handsome, and he said all the right things when he went about in society, so it took me some time to see through the shiny surface to the silliness underneath. Perhaps I didn’t want to see through the shiny surface. But the nature of marriage is such that one can’t keep one’s illusions about one’s spouse for very long.”

“I suppose not,” Cassie murmured, mulling it over. “Marriage is so … intimate.”

“Exactly.”

Now it was Cassie’s turn to sigh. “Were you very miserable?” she asked in quiet sympathy.

“Oh, no. You mustn’t feel sorry for me, Cassie. I grew used to my husband after a while. I even became fond of him, in a motherly way. And then I had the children, and they quite filled my life. Mother love is a very strong emotion, you know. And when it strikes one, there’s no doubt about what one feels. No doubt at all.”

“Doubt such as you feel about Sandy?”

“Yes.” Eunice frowned worriedly. “I feel a sincere affection for Sir Philip Sanford, really I do. But I keep wondering if this feeling will last. Good heavens, Cassie, what if I decide to wed him, and then discover, later, that I don’t care for him any more than I did for Yarrow?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Cassie admitted. “The love feelings
I’ve
experienced have had no doubts, you see. In love matters I’ve felt only certainty. I may not have experienced the happiness one expects from love feelings, but I haven’t experienced the doubts.”

“What are you saying, Cassie?” Eunice turned herself about on the sofa to stare at the girl beside her with a sudden intensity. “These love feelings you’re describing—Do you mean … toward my
brother
?” she asked in her blunt way.

Cassie lowered her eyes and nodded. “I’ve never told
that
to another living soul,” she said.

“Oh,
Cassie
,” Eunice cried with a heartfelt agony, “you poor dear! Tell me you don’t mean it!”

“I wish it were a lie,” Cassie admitted. “Or a joke. Or even a schoolgirl infatuation. But it’s not.”

“Not even the tiniest doubt?” Eunice pleaded.

“Not the tiniest.”

“Dash it all,” Eunice muttered, “I’m so
sorry
!”

Cassie met her sister-in-law’s eye with a level look. “Because he doesn’t reciprocate?”

Eunice bit her lip. “You know about Elinor, then?”

“I’ve heard.” Cassie gave her a small smile. “Perhaps I’ll grow used to it, as you did with Yarrow.”

“Perhaps. But loving him … with no doubts at all …” She threw her arms about Cassie in a tearful embrace. “Oh, my sweet little sister-in-law, I think it will be very hard.”

But Cassie didn’t feel tearful. She’d known from the first that loving Robert would be hard on her. But having a sympathetic friend to whom she could reveal her feelings would make things easier. She could not be tearful when she’d just engaged in the very first intimate conversation of her life. In fact, she was startled at how pleasant it had been, in spite of the painful subjects they’d discussed. The exchange had been soothing, somehow, and full of unexpected, deep affection.
How strange
! she thought. How could she suddenly feel so fond of Eunice when only a week ago she’d utterly disliked
her? Moreover, she had an inner certainty that they would never go back to being strangers. No matter what happened in her marriage or in Eunice’s relationship with Sandy, she and Eunice had forged a bond. A strong, durable, wonderful bond.

Eunice felt it, too. This shy little creature, her sister-in-law, had in a few short weeks become a treasured friend, while Elinor, whom she had known and admired for years, had never come nearly as close to her heart. The truth was that she was delighted that Cassie was her sister-in-law.
How strange!
she thought. She’d been wishing so hard, these past months, that Robbie could have married his Elinor and been happy. Now, suddenly, she found herself wishing that Elinor had never been born!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Winter weather reappeared soon after Sandy departed, keeping all Eunice’s travel plans in abeyance. Since she would not subject the children to long hours in a draughty carriage, she explained, a return to London could not be considered while the weather was so cold. The postponement of their departure pleased everyone, even the servants, for Eunice had long since given up running the household. “An’ now that yer sister an’ ’er ladyship ’ave become thick as thieves,” Loesby reported to Kittridge, “the ’ole place’s as peaceful as Talavera after the battle.”

Robert was delighted with the developing friendship between his sister and his wife. For one thing, there was no more struggle for authority between the two. For another, the strain at the dinner table to make comfortable conversation was considerably lessened by the easy flow of banter exchanged between the two women. Kittridge was especially thankful for the way Eunice’s friendship had brought Cassie out of her shell, for he was well aware that his own relationship with his wife had deteriorated badly.

As far as that deterioration was concerned, he knew that he had only himself to blame. He had unwittingly encouraged Cassie, by his impetuous kiss, to believe their marriage could grow into something more than it was. But the letters from Elinor had reminded him where his heart really belonged. He had been forced to marry elsewhere, but his love for Elinor remained constant. He would not sully the memory of that love by giving even a small piece of his affections to another woman, even his wife. Elinor, who had given him her unwavering devotion all during their long wartime separation, deserved nothing less from him.

Sometimes, when he felt particularly lonely and despairing, he locked himself in his study and reread the handful of letters she’d written. He knew it was self-indulgence of the most foolish, sentimental kind, but he couldn’t help himself. Perhaps if he’d been able to respond, to let out his feelings in messages to her, he could have treated her letters more casually, but the frustration of this cruel, one-way correspondence skewed his emotions. He kept imagining what Elinor was feeling, enduring waves of guilt for what she must be suffering at not having even the small solace of a word from him. When those feelings of guilt and frustration rose up in him, he found himself resenting not only the circumstances of the trap in which he now found himself but the wife who, in some mysterious connivance with her father, had entrapped him. Illogical as he knew the feeling was, he sometimes blamed Cassie for keeping him from Elinor.

There were other times, however, when he felt quite affectionate toward Cassie. There was no doubt that she sometimes charmed him. She had an unaffected innocence, an irrepressible blush that revealed every feeling and an odd-shaped but endearing little face. And when she looked up at him, adoration shining in those soft brown eyes, he had to admit that he found her hard to resist. But his conscience forced him to resist her; those few times he’d forgotten himself with Cassie made him feel almost adulterous, as if his prior commitment to Elinor had a stronger claim on his honor than his commitment to his wife.

Thus he, like the other members of the household, found many advantages in the developing closeness between Cassie and Eunice. The two women were such good company for each other that Robert was able to pursue his own interests without feeling guilty that he was neglecting them. And, best of all, their closeness made it easier for him to keep his distance from his wife.