Page 71 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Thirty-Five

The day drags through though storms keep out the sun;

And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.

—Byron, “There Was a Sound of Revelry by Night”

William had hisown room at Thornwood, adjacent to the nursery. Elizabeth had gotten into the habit of sitting with Sebastian before his bedtime. Afterward, she’d leave him under Hannah’s supervision and spend some time with William.

“Papa says I should reward Hope,” William said as Elizabeth tucked him in.

She flinched, although she knew the child did not understand the irony of what he’d said. Reward hope? She’d surrendered hope. Her days were filled with alternating emotions of suffocating grief and burning anger, and more and more, familiar numbness was championing both those emotions. None of it was healthy for her body or mind, and she knew she needed to let it go. It was not as though she would ever leave Thornwood Manor and the boys.

“He says Hope is doing a great service for me and I must respect her for it. And reward her. Did I say that already?”

“You did, my dearest.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Sleep well.”

She left William to his dreams and wandered down the hall toward her bedroom. Thornwood Manor’s halls were narrow and dark, with rich wooden paneling. Built two hundred years ago, the home did not have the glamour of Sophia’s newer manse, or even the open expanse of light of Catherine’s Woodfield Hall, but despite its rambling size, the manor had felt cozy in the early years of her marriage. Now it seemed the walls were closing in on her.

“My lady,” Lucy said when Elizabeth entered her bedroom. “Your tea is set in the other room.”

“I would have it in here tonight, Lucy.”

Lucy bobbed a quick curtsy and disappeared into the sitting room, which lay between her and Richard’s room. She’d spent too many nights contemplating his closed door and had no wish to stare at it this evening. Lucy quickly returned and set a tray on the side table near the fireplace, and Elizabeth sat beside it.

“Do you know what frock you wish for the morning?”

Elizabeth did not look away from the fire. “It truly doesn’t matter, does it? You pick one. That will be all this evening. Thank you.”

She waited until Lucy left before pouring her tea and sitting back in the plush chair. Still young, Lucy was far more enthusiastic than Elizabeth and had been thrilled to go to London for the season. Poor girl had been so happy when Elizabeth had returned to society, ecstatic to unpack the new gowns and shoes, to dress Elizabeth, and to artfully fashion her hair. Of course, so had Elizabeth been, and she was not so naive. Yet she’d been filled with hope.

Hope.Reward Hope.Was that what Richard had been doing the night she’d thought they’d found their footing again? Had he been merely rewarding her attempt, her optimism that all could be right again between them? But what about respect? He’d also told William he must respect hope. Richard’s dalliance made a lie of that little piece of advice.

She set her teacup down. It had been a month since they’d left London, and she’d not heard a word directly from Richard. Bosley received financial instructions regarding the orphanage and shared those with her, but that was it. Other than the letters to William, which arrived faithfully twice a week. He was a good father, and she must hold on to that. Many men weren’t. Of course, she’d believed he was a good husband once upon a time too.

Returning to rusticate in the country was no one’s fault but her own. She’d chosen her path. She hadn’t wanted to stay and suffer the gossip. She also hadn’t wanted to live in the house with Richard while he…while he did whatever it was he’d been doing. She’d hoped that after she left, he’d follow and beg her forgiveness. But hope alone had not made it happen. Nor would she demand it of him. If he could not find it within himself to make amends, they were well and truly finished.

The wood snapped, sparks flew into the air, and the logs settled back into a steady burn again. She had once hoped her marriage would be like the fire. Sudden passion followed by warming comfort. Her sorrow and longing clung together, rolling in her stomach, and she willed them into submission, inviting in numbness. She must detach herself from him and create a life of her own. She would not throw away any more years waiting for him.

Resolute, Elizabeth pushed from her chair, went to her writing desk, and sat again. She pulled out a sheaf of paper and wrote her list of things to do. Time for a governess for William. He was far too bright for his own good and might find himself in trouble if she did not channel his energies into something that would feed his mind. Patrick and Jonathon could join him so he’d not be alone in his studies.

The framework had begun on the orphanage. It was time to seek staff. And furnishings. She had not finished selecting everything. She had ordered paper hangings for the dining room when shopping with Catherine, and they had long ago arrived, but she’d not had the heart to care. Tomorrow she would consult with Mrs. Fernsby and get those renovations underway.

Elizabeth tapped the tip of her quill lightly, making small dots. She must commit her plans to paper if she was ever going to commit to deed. She wrote,Reenter the world. She stared at those words. Elizabeth was done with hiding and licking at her wounds like a scared cub. She would begin to make calls and accept visitors. And she would attend socials. She knew exactly where to start. Sophia was going to be so happy.

Later, when she tossed and turned, she reviewed her list in her mind over and over. It calmed the turmoil that rolled in each night with the darkness, when she’d once again revisit the lovemaking she’d believed had reset their relationship. His gaze, his touch, the promise she’d thought it implied. The hope she’d felt.

Elizabeth shook her head and ran her hands down her face. She must accept reality. Hope was dead. But determination was standing in its stead, and she must…she would…return to the land of the living.

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