Page 12 of Suddenly a Bride
Then they were barking cheerfully and chasing each other. Following the dogs, Edmund, Gwyneth, and Lucy wound their way up the stairs that hugged the circular walls. He pushed past the dogs and opened the door into a chamber that was spacious and well furnished, with glass windows that looked out on the valley in four directions. The dogs followed him in first.
It was Elizabeth’s chamber, her sanctuary, where she’d spent the majority of her time and money when she wasn’t in London. No luxury was too expensive for her. He could only look upon this room with distaste, for it reminded him too much of her. He had seldom set foot here, especially not after the first year of their marriage. The thought of lying in the same bed with Elizabeth had been repulsive.
He turned to see Gwyneth’s reaction, but she was on the tower landing, fighting to get past the dogs and still keep a hold on a cowering Lucy. Edmund suppressed a laugh, though she glanced at him sharply as if she recognized his amusement and disapproved. He barked a command at the pack, which promptly swept back down the stairs. The two women pressed themselves against the stone wall as every dog in the pack of ten brushed their skirts. He knew from experience the amount of hair they left behind.
When she was finally in the room, Gwyneth turned about, looking everywhere, even as Edmund lit tallow candles one by one at the small fire in the hearth. When he stood up, he saw her looking at the massive four-poster bed. The touch of trepidation in her eyes turned to embarrassment when she saw him watching her. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned about as she absorbed the room.
“Sir Edmund, ’tis quite lovely here,” she said.
“You’ll enjoy the view from the windows when the sun is up.”
Her delighted smile beamed at him like a far-off light in a storm, beckoning and entrancing. When he didn’t stop staring, she turned shy and cast down her lashes. The need to send Lucy away and bar the door against all intruders was such a powerful force that he came up on the balls of his feet as if to heed it. Every part of him yearned for what her smile promised, and that was what finally stopped him.
It wasn’t true, that smile, for they were strangers to each other.
Chapter 4
Gwyneth felt her smile die as Sir Edmund’s eyes suddenly went from the blue heat of flames to a pale glacial color. The chamber that had seemed welcoming in its luxury now seemed dwarfed by his size and his cool detachment. She wanted to ask if she had done something wrong, but felt hindered by their very strangeness to each other. They were in their bridal chamber, and all he had to do was send Lucy away and they’d be alone. Certainly, Gwyneth was frightened, but she was ready to consummate her marriage, to begin the duty she owed her family.
But instead he looked down at her coldly, a broad, tall stranger, and the shivery heat that she had hoped to feel again was gone.
Lucy backed toward the door. “I’ll leave ye be, milady—milord.”
Edmund shot Lucy a quick glance. “Nay, your mistress needs your help.”
Without another word, he limped past Lucy and began his halting descent of the stairs. Biting her trembling lip, Gwyneth went to close the door but instead remained to watch him. He never looked up, and as the staircase curved down, he dropped out of sight.
When even his bobbing shadow was gone, she slowly closed the door and leaned back against it. Lucy was staring at her, wide-eyed.
Gwyneth gave her a perfunctory smile and went to open her trunk, which must have been brought up while they ate.
“Lady Blackwell,” Lucy began in an uncertain voice, “what do ye make of him?”
Gwyneth held up a hand. “Do not speak of him. We shall unpack and settle in. ’Tis a beautiful chamber, is it not?”
“Aye, milady.” She bowed her head and opened the trunk, beginning to set out a small pile of garments.
For once, Gwyneth could not bring herself to help. She gave in to a need to explore her new chamber. The walls were hung with expensive tapestries, not painted canvas, and there were even framed paintings of gardens and cottages. A large cupboard held a basin and ewer and was scattered with more lotions and washes than she could imagine having a use for. Her nose tested each fragrance, and she planned which lotions she would use first. There were balls of delicate, fragrant soap next to the softest towels she’d ever touched. Part of her relaxed and rejoiced, because Sir Edmund had prepared a special place for her, as if he meant to give their marriage a real chance for happiness instead of treating it like a duty.
But she should have known it would not be so easy.
“Lady Blackwell!” Lucy suddenly called in a strange voice.
She turned and found the girl bent over a coffer, one that had already been in the chamber. Slowly Lucy lifted up a pile of red velvet, and as she shook it out into the shape of a gown, emeralds and pearls sewn to the bodice glittered in the candlelight. Both women gasped.
“Gwyn!” Lucy whispered, as she carefully placed the gown across the bed and lifted out another. “Aren’t they heavenly?”
Gwyneth felt a shock run through her at the expense and beauty of the garments. Had Sir Edmund had these made for her? For a moment, the fantasy she’d dreamed of each night almost became real. He wanted to cherish her; he wanted to be a true husband to her. He just didn’t know how to go about showing it when they were together. But then she recognized the next gown, black and white satin scattered with tiny diamonds.
These were Elizabeth’s gowns.
She shook her head in disbelief at how wild and foolish her thoughts had almost become. Of course they were Elizabeth’s. Sir Edmund had agreed to marry Gwyneth only a few weeks ago, certainly not enough time to have a whole wardrobe created for a woman he’d never met. She knew with certainty that Sir Edmund had meant nothing cruel by giving her a dead woman’s garments. Such richness and expense shouldn’t go to waste, and most women would have welcomed the gift.
But she didn’t want to share Sir Edmund with the ghost of her cousin. Then realization struck, and she looked about her in sorrow. This was Elizabeth’s chamber, the best in the castle. She’d spared no expense on the fine tapestries that kept out the drafts, while the rest of the household suffered.
Was there supposed to be a dark message in Sir Edmund’s giving her this chamber? Did he want her to understand that she’d never measure up to his first wife? But she’d known the shallow, self-centered woman Elizabeth had been. If only she knew more about what kind of marriage they’d truly had.
Perhaps Sir Edmund was only grateful to be given another chance and wanted his second wife to have the best comforts the castle had.
