Page 22 of A Deal with the Earl (Necessary Arrangements 1)

Clydesdale looked at her questioningly, raising one brow.

“For taking me straight to Mary,” she clarified.

“That was the deal, wasn’t it?” he asked in bored tones. “I always keep my word.”

Julie swallowed heavily. She remembered her part of the deal, the part that he probably expected to start on this very night. Her stomach churned as she remembered Mrs. Darling’s words the other night, as she tried to explain what was going to happen.

“You need to just lie there quietly and let him do whatever he wishes. You shouldn’t make any sound or move a muscle. It is going to hurt, but it won’t take long. And whatever you do, do not show your revulsion to him. Act as if nothing is happening. Think of England if it brings you peace.”

Julie swallowed again. Mrs. Darling’s cryptic words did not comfort her at all. As much as she feared childbirth, thinking about what would happen on this particular night was even more frightening. If what Mrs. Darling said was true, she would have to endure this treatment by her husband every week until she got with child. And then the horrors of the birthing process.

She couldn’t think about that, not now. She was getting Mary back. And as soon as the child was born, they would live in the country. All three of them. Herself, Mary, and the babe. She let out a deep breath just as they reached the doors to her bedroom. Clydesdale paused, hesitating before opening the door for her.

She entered a spacious and beautiful light blue room with silver fringes. It was exquisitely beautiful, albeit cold and bare, as if nobody had lived in it for a long time.

“You can decorate it if you’d like,” he said stiffly. “Once we return to London, that is.” He hesitated at the door.

“It’s lovely,” Julie said absently, looking around her room.

“Right.” Clydesdale nodded and started out the door before pausing once more. “Ask Mrs. Post if you need anything. Dinner is at seven. Sharp.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” she said, feigning meekness. He nodded once again and exited the room.

Mrs. Post assigned a young, beautiful girl, named Alice, of about seventeen years old to be Julie’s lady’s maid. She chattered non-stop about how glad she was to move up to this position and how she would be the best lady’s maid. She was excited about everything: about Julie’s hair, talking about how she’d braid her thousands of different ways, about her wardrobe, and how she looked forward to matching her outfits. Julie just smiled in answer to the girl’s enthusiasm.

“There hasn’t been a lady in the house for as long as anybody in this household remembers,” she went on. “We are all so glad to finally have a mistress. Perhaps the master won’t be so cold and grumpy all the time anymore.” She went on to chat about every other thing she could think of.

Julie felt stricken that the servants obviously looked to her to liven up the house. With the mood she had been in since the engagement, she doubted she’d be able to brighten up anything. But that would all change once Mary was in the house. That girl could turn the darkest cloud into sunshine; she was that lovely. Julie only hoped that everyone else loved her as much as she did. She prayed that the ton’s reaction would be less severe this time around. She prayed even more that Clydesdale would keep his word and his family would claim Mary as one of their own.

Julie wore a pale violet gown to supper and asked Alice to make a simple braid of her hair. Alice protested, saying that it was her wedding day, and she should look festive, but Julie resisted. The girl had obviously missed the symbolism of the black wedding gown Julie had worn this morning. This day was not a celebration for her.

Several minutes past seven o’clock, she came down to the sitting room, where her new husband awaited. Unlike her, he wore full evening clothes. He was wearing all black except for a light blue waistcoat, a crisp white cravat, and a white shirt. He was pacing the room, periodically checking his timepiece. He looked up when he saw her and looked her over from head to toe.

“I see you are in half-mourning already. It’s a good sign, I hope.” He raised a brow, but his demeanor was less than interested, bored even.

“I apologize if that offended you.” She smiled artificially.

“It didn’t.” Clydesdale closed his pocket watch and placed it in his waistcoat before walking up to her and offering his arm. “Shall we?”

Julie took his arm, and together they walked to the dining room. The room was big and spacious, like everything else she had seen in the house. The furniture was humongous and seemed uncomfortable. More to show off the size and wealth than for people to feel comfortable in. Clydesdale seated her on one end of the table and sat across from her, about twelve feet away. She raised her brow at their seating arrangement and looked around at the servants standing along the side of the room. The footmen wore expressionless masks and weren’t even looking in her direction.

Julie huffed an impatient breath and stared at the dish in front of her.

“It’s not mackerel,” her husband said mockingly. “I made certain of it.” He bowed to her politely before resuming his meal.

Julie was immediately reminded of the day of their first meeting, and she smiled to herself.

They continued the meal in silence for a while. Julie was waiting for her husband to break the silence. It was the polite thing for a gentleman to do, and when he didn’t, she took the conversation into her own hands.

“What time are we leaving on the morrow?” she asked the first thing that came to mind.

“The earlier, the better,” Clydesdale replied.

“When would you prefer I be ready?” she tried again.

“The servants will leave by dawn, which means our carriage will be ready at the same time. I will have someone wake you up so we can leave right after,” he said noncommittally.

“I’ll be ready by dawn then,” she said, staring into her dish.

There was a long silence after that. Julie rummaged through her mind to find any topic of conversation she could discuss with her husband other than the weather but was coming up blank.

“It’s a lovely home,” she said finally.

“It needs a woman’s touch.” Clydesdale shrugged and returned to his meal.

Julie raised her head and regarded him curiously. He was treating his meal as if it were the most essential thing in the world, as if it would disappear if he raised his face from it for a moment. His comment, however, made her wonder. Did he want her to be the woman to transform his house into a cozy home? Judging by this conversation and his reactions to her, he wanted her as far away from him as he could throw her, possibly even farther. Julie’s head started throbbing, and she continued her meal in silence.

Clydesdale finally spoke only when the torturous meal was over, and Julie stood to go back up to her room.

“I’ll come by your room in two hours,” was all he said. At that moment, however, Julie wished he hadn’t spoken at all.

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