Page 17 of A Gentleman's Wife

Suddenly, Marianne did not want to be in a church. She did not want to be seated beside Thomas. She wanted to be anywhere except for where he currently was. Emma’s ceremony seemed to pass quicker than Marianne’s wedding, which meant she could get out quicker into the fresh air with the rain and the clouds. Right now, everything felt too close, too immediate, too real.

Clenching her jaw and bouncing her leg, Marianne knew what was coming. Not a seizure, thank goodness, but the tension in her body was growing. By the end of the night, she would be cramped so tight, no amount of Eliza’s strength or Mr. Sanders’s salve could save her. The stress would eat at her from within, and it was her own fault, for marrying a man she would want to love and never be able to have because of her own deceit.

Once the blessings were given and the prayers were said, the newlywed couple stood and turned to face the congregation. Marianne wanted to be happy for them, but she couldn’t focus on anything but getting out. While everyone else slowly trailed them out of the chapel, Marianne fought her way for a door, a window, anything.

Beside the pulpit, she found a side door that easily opened to a rainy courtyard, and Marianne let out a sigh of relief when the cold breeze brushed over her skin. She fervently prayed for the wind to clear her mind of its tumultuous thoughts, for her heart to be purged of the tender feelings for her husband, but found that impossible when she heard his voice behind her. “Marianne?”

She turned to see him in the doorway, his features full of concern.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Unable to stop the overwhelm, her vision blurring with tears as she shook her head. “No.”

“Do you wish to leave?”

She tried to look up at him. “But this is your friend’s wedding.”

Thomas patted a hand on her shoulder. “I just witnessed his wedding. Everything after this is fritter and nonsense. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Before she could even agree, he offered her his arm. “Come, we can take the back road without having to wait for the wedding caravan.”

He ordered the carriage and carefully helped her in, avoiding the crowd of wedding goers. Marianne felt bad for Emma and the duchess, but perhaps they wouldn’t even miss her.

When Thomas entered the carriage, he did not sit across from her as he had before. This time, he sat beside her, his attentions turned fully in her direction.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he gently urged. “Is it your arm?”

“Yes,” she said immediately, then shook her head. The rain made her sore, but it was so much more than that. “No…”

Her heart skipped in trepidation. He deserved to know the truth, but would that mean she would lose him forever? Would he hate her, cut her off completely? He had treated her with every civility up until now. Could she trust him with her greatest secret?

“I have something to confess,” Marianne whispered to the floor of the carriage. “And though you will likely wish to send me away, I only ask that you not send me back to my parents. I’ll find work elsewhere if I must, but––”

Thomas took her hand in his, stilling her words, her breath, her very heart.

“I promise you have nothing to fear from me, and I would never send you away, no matter what you have to confess. Please, I want you to feel you can confide in me.”

Again, Marianne was left in awe of the man who was her husband. She nodded, taking in a deep breath before speaking.

“I told you briefly about my crippled hand.” He nodded, so she continued. “At times, it pains me with cramps, but with the help of my maid and some salve from my doctor, it has become bearable. However, that is not the only abnormality I suffer.”

Fear rose like bile in her throat, but she swallowed it back.

Thomas leaned forward intently, his brown eyes bearing a gentle message:Tell me.

“I… I have long suffered fits of epilepsy.”

He did not move, except for a quick blink. “The falling sickness?”

Marianne nodded. “It was quite frequent in my childhood, though for many years in my youth I thought it had been overcome. But it has returned with fierceness in my adulthood. Never consistently, never with warning, but always difficult, and often resulting in injury.” She thought of the scars she bore, things she strove to hide.

“I see.” Thomas’s face was serious as he listened, her fingers still gently held within his.

“My maid Eliza has been with me since my youth, and has experienced much of this with me, so she knows how best to manage me when it happens. Now that I’m without her today, I didn’t want you, should anything happen, to be caught unawares and shamed because of me. You should have been informed long before the arrangement took place. You deserved to know what you took on when you agreed to marry me.”

Time seemed to slow to an impossible pace, waiting for the reaction of Thomas’s full understanding. His gaze became lost in the distance, and Marianne bit her lip to keep from speaking. He deserved a moment, or as many moments as he needed, to accept the truth about his wife. She didn’t want to hear his rejection, but she was certain each painful beat of her heart was one second closer to being removed from his life forever. He had taken the news of her hand in stride, and had been terribly accommodating since her arrival, but surely this was more than he’d anticipated. Something far beyond his ability to accept in a wife.

“I can see how this weighed heavily on you,” he said at last. “Thank you for telling me.”

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