Page 25 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
It was almost a relief to retreat to her bedroom. Lucy had made it cosy, and somehow it didn’t matter that it was small. There was a large bed for the two of them to share, with moth-eaten curtains around the bed to keep out the chill. There was a rug covering the bare boards, and a fire snapped in the grate.
“Not the finest wedding day in the world, I think,” Patrina commented, throwing herself down onto the bed. “Everything thatcouldgo wrong,hasgone wrong.”
“Not true,” Lucy responded, handing over Patrina’s night-gown. “The carriage wheels haven’t broken yet.”
Patrina shuddered. “Ugh. Don’t.”
The next half hour was taken up in the business of undressing and dressing for bed. With the wind howling and the rain pattering outside and the inn gradually plunging into darkness as people retired for the night, Patrina could almost believe that it was just the two of them in the whole building.
Despite the fire, Patrina found herself shivering when she sat at the dressing table, with Lucy brushing out her hair to be braided for bed. Lucy, always a chatterbox at the best of times, had plenty to say. Apparently, she’d had quite an interesting journey with Mr. Harry Westbrook, Neil’s steward, seeing as the man enjoyed Shakespeare, poetry, and novels.
“You seem happy enough at our change in circumstances,” Patrina remarked, when Lucy finally took a breath.
Lucy shrugged. “It’s a step up in the world for me, isn’t it? I’m going to be a proper lady’s maid, for amarchioness. And notjust any marchioness, but my dear old friend who deserves the position more than anybody else. But I can’t help but think that you feel differently, milady.”
Her eyes met Patrina’s through the mirror.
Patrina fidgeted, chewing on her lip. “I don’t know what to think, truly. I think Lady Emma might be troublesome, and Neil, my husband… well, I can’t make him out at all. He’s kind enough, but… but what if I’m not what he expects? What if I’m not a proper marchioness? I daresay there’s a thousand mistakes I might make.”
“I daresay,” Lucy said, nodding. “And I imagine youwillmake some of those mistakes.”
“Very reassuring, Lucy.”
Lucy clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I’m not in the habit of telling you comforting nonsense, milady. You shall make mistakes, I’m sure, and there’s no sense pretending otherwise. But it’s not about the mistakes, it’s about how well you respond to them, don’t you see?”
Patrina sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I’d just much rather do everything perfectly, right away.”
Lucy chuckled. “Wouldn’t we all?”
Having finished brushing out Patrina’s hair, Lucy began to braid it smoothly. Patrina closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. For a few luxurious moments, all that existed in the world was the rattle of rain against the window, the snap of the fire in the grate, and the smooth touch of Lucy’s deft fingers in Patrina’s hair.
A thought bloomed in Patrina’s mind, sudden but invasive, like a weed in a flowerbed.
“I don’t think he’s mad.”
Lucy barely batted an eyelid. “He certainly acts like a decent, coherent gentlemen. But then, neither you nor I are physicians, milady.”
Patrina opened her eyes, frowning. “But he was soclear, so confident. He worked out at once that we would not reach home tonight and made alternative arrangements in an instant. Our stay here, while not planned, was as smooth as anything. Could a madman do that?”
“No,” Lucy conceded, “but I always think that people have an odd idea of madness. A great-uncle of mine was committed to one of the asylums, but my mother recalled that before things got bad,reallybad, I mean, he had long periods of clarity, when you would never think that a thing was wrong with him. I often wonder whether madness is just a word we use for an illness we can’t understand. Who knows what goes on in people’s heads?”
Patrina picked at her nails, a frown appearing between her brows. “Didyouthink he was mad?”
“I don’t know him well enough,” Lucy responded tactfully. “And with the greatest respect, milady, neither do you.”
She heaved a sigh, leaning back in the seat. “You’re very good at telling it like it is, Lucy. I can always rely on you to tell me the truth.”
Lucy inclined her head. “I do my best, milady. I’m only saying so that you don’t go getting your hopes up. What if you decide that he’snotmad, and then you learn later that it comes in fits and starts? From what I’ve heard, itdoescome and go. His father was the same, but it got worse over time. Much worse, and the fits more frequent.” She shook her head, heaving a sigh, running her fingers over the glossy braid of Patrina’s hair. “It’s a pity. Such a pity. He seems like a kind man. And a young one, too. Too young to have a death sentence hanging over his head.”
Patrina shivered at that. Itwasa death sentence, wasn’t it? Such a pressing one that he hurried to marry just about any woman he could, in hopes of providing an heir before it was too late.
“How long was his father ill?” Patrina heard herself ask.
“I don’t know, but I could find out, I reckon. A few years, from what I’ve heard. The man hasn’t been dead for long.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that the illness started at different ages? Neil’s father must have been much older, but Neil got ill so soon after his father’s death. It’s odd, don’t you think?”
“I expect it’s not that unusual. We aren’t physicians, milady.”
