Page 12 of The Lovers
“Father, did Lord Asher know mother well?” Elise asked as they approached the river.
Hugh shrugged. “I don’t believe they ever met,” Hugh replied. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
“That’s a handsome ring your intended has given you,” Hugh said as he took Elise’s hand and appraised the ring. It was large and awkward, and it made Elise’s hand feel heavy. She pulled on her glove, but it bulged beneath the leather, making her hand look disfigured. It was an expensive piece of jewelry, but Elise didn’t care for it one bit.
Elise remained silent throughout the crossing but could hold her dismay back no longer once they climbed into the waiting carriage. “Father, I don’t understand,” she exclaimed. “Why does Lord Asher want to marry me? Surely, he doesn’t love me.”
That naïve statement brought a hiss of annoyance from her father, who tore his gaze away from the window and stared hard at his daughter. “Really, Elise,” he said with derision. “Who said anything about love?”
“Well, why else, then? I know you owe him a great deal of money, but why would he want me to offset the debt? He hardly knows me.”
Elise could see her father striving for patience as he considered his answer. His eyes softened as he took in her flushed face and anxious eyes. He loved her, she knew that, but he’d always been a bit gruff when it came to expressing his feelings.
“Elise,” he began, “your mother and I had a happy union, and perhaps seeing our affection for each other has—shall we say—distorted your expectations of marriage somewhat. Few men of Lord Asher’s class marry for love. They choose suitable women who will provide them with heirs to the estate. If they want love, they take a mistress.”
“But I’m not suitable,” Elise countered. “I bring no noble title or wealth to the table. I’m just a simple girl.”
“You bring youth and beauty, which is what I think Lord Asher desires at this stage of his life. He not only has a title but the ear of the king. He also has tremendous wealth; he doesn’t need your money. Perhaps a simple girl is all he wants, not one of the painted ladies of the court who change lovers like they change gowns,” her father suggested with a pained expression on his face.
“You mean he wants an unspoiled, unworldly virgin.”
“Don’t be vulgar, Elise,” Hugh retorted as the carriage pulled up to the house. “Every man desires a virgin, and it’s his right as a husband to expect one. You should be pleased that a man of Lord Asher’s stature has chosen you for his bride. Now, I’ll hear no more about this. You will marry Edward Asher next week, and you will be happy to do so.”
With that, Hugh descended from the carriage and walked away, his shoulders straight and his gait purposeful. Elise stared at her father’s back, suddenly resentful. She’d never known him to be harsh, but then again, she’d never really questioned his judgment before. If she had hoped to gain sympathy or understanding, she now knew that she wouldn’t get either. Her father had already said goodbye to her in his heart. She was no longer his to love.
EIGHT
Elise gazed around the crowded hall but heard nothing, save a steady buzz of conversation that washed over her without leaving an impression. She felt utterly detached, as if she were underwater or someone peering through a window at a riotous gathering, able only to see, but not hear, the people within. Lord Asher’s guests were eating, drinking, and making merry, their faces flushed with the heat from the roaring fire and the spiced wine that had been liberally consumed over the past few hours. Course after course of various delicacies had been brought out and cleared away, the sweetmeats still to come. Hugh de Lesseps sat to the left of Elise’s new husband, his countenance one of satisfaction at a job well done. His daughter was married, his livelihood protected, and his family once again solvent. He’d barely even looked at Elise since arriving at the church that afternoon, and he walked her to the altar without so much as a fatherly kiss of blessing.
They’d hardly spoken all week; her father locked himself in his study for hours on end while Elise spent the time she had left with her sisters. Much to their chagrin, they had not been permitted to attend the wedding supper since it was held in Lord Asher’s home, and the girls were too young to be presented in adult company. The de Lessepses’ servants brought Amy and Anne to the church to witness their sister’s wedding ceremony but then took the crying children back to Southwark despite their desperate pleas. Normally, the wedding supper would be hosted by the bride’s father, but Edward had made his own plans and made no mention of Hugh inviting any of his own friends or relatives, effectively cutting out every one of his acquaintances. Hugh bristledat this injustice, but when Elise brought it up, he snapped at her as if she were at fault and not her future husband.
“You don’t seriously expect all those noble ladies and gentlemen to cross the river to Southwark, do you?” her father demanded, annoyed with Elise for broaching the subject. All he could do was put on a smile and attend with good grace. Elise didn’t know anyone present except for her father, and at that moment, she wasn’t sure she even knew him.
Elise sat next to Lord Asher, her face frozen into an expression of false happiness, desperate for the supper to be over and equally terrified that it should end. She felt as if she’d accidentally stumbled onto a theater stage during a play and found herself among the company of actors who went on with their performance as if she weren’t there. She stood there, rooted to the stage, unable to leave but not part of the scene being played out all around her, the inevitability of what was to come in the final act hanging over her like an executioner’s blade. She wasn’t the first bride to fear her wedding night, she knew that, but that didn’t make what was to come any easier.
Perchance it was best to just get it over with—the dread in the pit of her stomach was probably worse than the act itself. Everyone survived the ordeal, and so would she, and she’d learn to accept it as part of her marriage. Some women even grew to like it, or so she’d been told by Rose, the impudent maid who was likely speaking from experience—and the only person Elise could confide in since her mother died. She would miss Rose. She hadn’t been allowed to bring her into the Asher household, but it made Elise feel marginally better to know that Rose would look after her sisters and care for them.
Elise was almost relieved when Lord Asher’s mother, who’d barely said two words to her since meeting her that afternoon, motioned for her to say good night to her guests andretire upstairs. Elise blushed furiously when she heard the lewd whispers and guffaws of laughter, but she smiled prettily, executed a graceful curtsy, and hastily left the hall. She had no idea how long it would take her husband to actually come to her, but being alone in their bridal chamber was preferable to being displayed like a curiosity.
“Good evening, yer ladyship. Me name is Lucy,” a young girl mumbled as she sprang from her seat in the corner. She looked sleepy, probably having dozed off while waiting for her new mistress to arrive. “May I be of service?” The girl had dark hair and clear blue eyes that dominated her round face. A deep blush stained her cheeks, the result of being caught sleeping, no doubt. She was about the same age as Elise, but there was a world of difference between them. Perhaps under different circumstances they might have become friends, as she had with Rose, but social boundaries had to be maintained now that she was the wife of a nobleman.
“Yes, if you’ll just help me undress, Lucy.”
Lucy helped Elise out of her bodice and sleeves and untied her skirt, stepping aside to let it fall at Elise’s feet. Elise stepped out of the heap of fabric, and Lucy scooped it up and set it aside to be folded and put away in the trunk. Her movements were practiced and sure and mildly reassuring.
“Shall I brush out yer hair, me lady?” Lucy asked. Elise nodded, unable to reply. Now that she was in her chemise, she felt even more vulnerable and scared. She sat down heavily as Lucy went to work unpinning the elaborate hairstyle that Rose had conjured up for the wedding. The hair cascaded to Elise’s shoulders in heavy waves, making her look younger and plainer.
“Oh, ye do have beautiful hair, me lady,” Lucy said as she picked up the brush and began to gently pull it through the tangled strands. “Such a lovely color. Just like amber.”
“Have you ever seen amber?” Elise asked. Conversation was a wonderful distraction at times, and at the moment, Elise was desperate to focus on something other than what was to come.
“Aye. Her ladyship has a necklace made of amber and gold, crafted in Russia, of all places. It was a gift from her husband, who’d visited many foreign lands. The necklace is truly a thing of beauty, but her ladyship rarely wears jewelry these days.”
For a brief second, Elise thought that Lucy was referring to Lady Asher, whose portrait she’d seen in the parlor, but then realized that Lucy was referring to Edward’s mother.
“Why is that?” Elise asked.
