Our four-week excursion finished far too soon. John took me to Paris and afterward to Switzerland. My dream of seeing the Continent came to pass, but my hope of winning his heart had not.
Each day we spent together seemed like I traveled with a hired companion rather than my husband. We actually had not even forged a friendship but merely existed as a couple. I had no complaint about my treatment. John continued to be tender and polite, but I witnessed his attention drift elsewhere as if it remained in England.
As far as our physical intimacy, he did not seek it as often as I hoped he would. The same scenario continued during each encounter as it had the first night we spent together. Only, I ceased speaking of love and accepted what little he gave. My body adjusted to him quickly, and the pain subsided. Nevertheless, my unfulfilled yearning persisted beyond his usual groan of release. When he pulled out, the aching for more continued. If I had already experienced the totality of what sexual pleasure had to offer a woman, I would soon become my mother drifting off in my mind to the English countryside.
Upon our return to Blythe Court, the entire staff congregated in the entrance hall to welcome our arrival. Since I had not been formally presented to the servants before our wedding, except for Melanie, I paid particular attention to the introductions. I had become the lady of the estate, and it would be my responsibility to oversee the inner workings of the household. The head butler, Mr. Rhodes, reported directly to me, as well as the housekeeper. Thankfully, my mother prepared me for such a task, allowing me to observe as she supervised the domestics at our manor house.
John, on the other hand, would work closely with the estate manager and gamekeeper to attend to his landholdings and finances. Frankly, I hadn’t a clue what else he did for work, amusement or entertainment. Another mystery I would need to solve.
We walked down the line of uniformed servants from the housekeeper to the scullery maid. The men bowed, the women curtsied, and I smiled while expressing my pleasure in meeting each of them. Melanie stood in the line as well giving me a warm grin. She glanced at John and quickly pulled her eyes away as if she were shy to be in his presence. He paid no attention to her or to the rest of the staff for that matter, who appeared engrossed in his interaction with me. Eventually, it would become evident to the entire household we were not lovers.
It is merely an arrangement, the words echoed through my mind, which I had spoken to Melanie a month ago. Now that my life at Blythe Court had begun, I needed to make the most of the years ahead. When our first child arrived, at least I would be able to love someone else. I intended to break the mold of allowing the governess to take all of my children’s attention. A deep-seated need for purpose had to be filled in my life.
After the staff dispersed and returned to their duties, John excused himself and headed toward the study to check on estate affairs during our absence. I requested that Melanie help me unpack and get settled in, which she obliged with eagerness.
“You look rested, my lady,” she commented.
“Yes, rested.”
“May I ask where your travels led you?”
“France and Switzerland,” I responded halfheartedly. “I enjoyed the scenery, but we were anxious to return to England.”
“That is a shame, my lady. I would have thought your time away would have been more pleasant.”
The footmen arrived with my trunk, and Melanie swiftly went into action unpacking. My clothes needed washing and a few dresses mended. The poor young lady had her chores piled high.
“I am afraid that I tore the sleeve in my blue day dress, being clumsy by snagging it on a chair. You will need to mend it.” In retrospect, I must have been terribly distracted because I ruined another dress during our trip. “I also stepped on the hem of my yellow dress and ripped the seam. It was a bumbling honeymoon, to say the least.”
“I will take care of it, your ladyship,” she replied, examining the damage.
“Would you mind having the chambermaid bring up hot water? It has been days since I bathed.”
“Of course,” she said.
She scurried from the room to ask for assistance, and I sat down on the bed. My hand slid across the silk coverlet. My new bedchamber, as the lady of the house, had been chosen by John and recently redecorated for my arrival. His nighttime lodgings were in an adjacent room, which frankly broke my heart. I knew it was not unusual behavior for spouses to keep separate bedchambers, but I hoped he would at least dispense with it early in our marriage. As often as he came to me, getting pregnant would take longer than I wanted to wait.
* * * *
Dinner between the two of us ended in silence. We barely spoke a word. He asked if my quarters were comfortable, and I praised the décor of the interior. John appeared to fall into a brooding state of mind, so I attempted to make conversation.
“Do you mind if I invite a few lady friends over for tea on Friday?”
“No, of course, not,” he replied.
His amicable response gave the impression he felt relieved not having to be in my company. I attempted to remain civil, but frankly found it difficult. After finishing my last bite, I scooted back the chair and rose. Surprised at my movement, he frowned with concern.
“I’m tired,” I announced. “I want to retire early this evening.”
He rose from his chair. “I understand,” he replied. “I think I might do the same.”
I walked to his side and whispered in his ear. “Might I join you later?”
He pulled away and glanced over at the footman, no doubt worried the man heard my question. “Not this evening,” he answered in a low tone. “Perhaps another night.”
His spurn tore another piece of my already wounded heart.
“As you wish,” I coolly responded. Not wanting to remain for further conversation, I turned and departed. When I made my way to my room, I decided not to ring for Melanie. I was not in the mood to be handled by another person or talk for that matter. Sulking and ruminating over my circumstances seemed far more appealing.
After changing into a nightgown and climbing between the cold sheets, I covered myself up to my chin with a blanket. The clock chimed nine o’clock, much earlier than my regular time to retire. It was our first night back at Blythe Court as husband and wife, and he would not even share my bed with me. Emotionally drained, I slipped into a restless sleep.
Hours later, my eyes opened. I glanced about in the dark and lonely room and ached to be in John’s presence. Why must he push me away? Determined to try once more, I slipped out of bed and wrapped a robe around my chilled body. Surely, he could give me a moment of comfort, even if it were but a simple hug and peck on the cheek. I could not bear his lack of attention.
Though our rooms joined, I had never seen the inside of his quarters. It wasn’t about to stop me, so I softly tapped on the door a few times. To my disappointment, after multiple knocks, he did not answer. Undeterred, I grasped the handle and found it unlocked. I turned the knob and pushed open the door, revealing the interior. He was nowhere in sight, and his bed had not been turned down for the night. Where had he gone?
Confused by his disappearance, I closed the door and decided to wander downstairs to look for him. His absence planted a seed of distrust in my heart. Thinking he might be in his study, I headed in its direction. Upon my arrival, I found it empty too.
I stood in the doorway pondering his whereabouts. As I turned to search elsewhere, I saw him approach from down the hall, emerging like a ghost out of the darkness.
“What are you doing out of bed?” he tersely asked.
John halted in front of me. His clothes looked disheveled and wrinkled, and his hair wild and out of place. He raked his fingers through his unruly locks and smoothed back the stray strands.
“I might ask the same of you,” I countered, eying him angrily.
“I fell asleep in a chair,” he said.
“I’m lonely, and I wanted to join you in your bed.” My admission caught him off guard.
“It’s late, you should return to your room,” he replied, offering me no comfort or companionship.
“I don’t understand why you agreed to marry me,” I snapped. “You want absolutely nothing to do with me as your wife. I feel abandoned, unwanted, and despised. Do you want me to leave and go back to my parents? Will that make you happy?”
My voice rose to such a pitch, I was sure it carried to the servants’ quarters. Let them hear, I thought to myself. They will see his treatment of me soon enough and add up the sad state of affairs. John’s countenance softened undoubtedly from guilt about his behavior.
“I am sorry,” he said with remorse. “Come with me and let’s go to bed.”
He offered his hand, and I paused for a moment. My relationship with John Broadhurst evolved into a jumbled mixture of love, anger, and suspicion. If I could only come to the point of indifference and accept things as they were, I might be happy with him. However, I did not want to admit defeat in winning his heart.
“All right,” I said, taking his hand. It was warm to the touch. He gently led me up the stairs. Rather than going to his room, he took me back to my own. I did not mind because at least we would be together.
“You can hold me,” I said. “It’s all I need unless you need more.”
“If I hold you through the night, will that suffice?”
I shook my head yes. He undressed before me, and we slipped under the covers together. When his arm gathered me and pulled me close, I snuggled my head in the corner of his shoulder and relaxed. He gave me a sweet kiss on my forehead and stroked my hair.
“Go to sleep now, Ann. I’m here.”
A peaceful and satisfying rest washed over me as I lay in the arms of the man I loved. If only he would stay with me and not drift away.