Page 9 of A Gentleman's Wife

Chapter Four

Marianne woke to the view of her bed’s canopy, dark blues and purples raised above her four-poster bed. Blinking quickly, the rest of the room came into view: a beautiful landscape painting hung above a large stone fireplace, elegant drapes covered tall windows along the wall, and dark wooded furniture around the room all spoke of opulence. She had been raised in wealth and knew it well, but none of this was familiar to her. She was no longer in the room she’d grown up in, for she was no longer at home. She had a new home called Primrose House.

She also had a husband.

Her gaze settled on the door in the far corner. One of the housemaid’s explained that it was a door that connected her room tohis. The thought made her flush, to think that it was no longer improper to have him in her bedchambers. Though she understood anatomically the union of a man and a woman, the thought of baring one’s body and soul so completely was terrifying. She had been eternally grateful that he’d agreed to delay the sealing of their marriage, but she had no idea how much time she’d been granted. Marianne knew little of her husband, other than his name and the few words they’d exchanged in their carriage ride, but she felt certain she was safer here than she’d ever been in her parents’ home. He seemed aware of her need for an ally and intuitively sensitive about her hand, for which she was grateful. But that didn’t mean she was ready for the full breadth of marriage just yet.

She had nothing to fear now but the unknown. Her parents and siblings had left after the wedding breakfast, bidding her farewell for good. That meant she was alone in the world, except for her maid and her husband. Thomas Ramsbury. Though she understood the rules and etiquette required of a woman of wealth, she’d had little personal practice with men in society. Aside from men within her own family, or doctors with various levels of civility, her ballroom experience had often left her alone in the shadows and not on a dance floor, and not once had she been lost in a conversation with a young gentleman, strolling through the park or home from church. What in the world would she ever do with a husband?

A knock sounded at her bedroom door, and Marianne sat up straight, holding her breath and clutching the blanket to her neck. “Who is it?”

“Just Eliza, miss.”

Marianne let out a relieved sigh. “Please come in.”

The door opened, and Eliza arrived with a smile on her face. This was her only friend in the world, the one person she could depend on and who truly knew her.

“Good morning, miss. How did you sleep?” Eliza asked.

“Well, I think.” Marianne stretched her left arm up, her right arm curling to her shoulder. “How is everything below stairs?”

Eliza opened Marianne’s trunk and retrieved Mr. Sanders’s purple bottle of salve, then sat beside her on the bed and reached for her hand. “Oh, very nice. The staff here are so kind and well-mannered. I’m especially fond of the housekeeper, Mrs. Bamber. She’s a complete joy. Nothing like Mrs. Donell back at your father’s home.”

Marianne tried not to flinch as Eliza unwound her tight fingers, pressing the liquid across her skin. Some mornings, Marianne found her muscles were stiffer than usual, but perhaps today’s was due to all the commotion from her wedding day leaving her tense.

Her wedding day. It was such an odd thing that she’d never expected.

“And they say Mr. Ramsbury is the best master. So thoughtful and sweet.”

Marianne’s stomach tumbled with nerves at the words. Her limited experience with the man affirmed that fact, but she couldn’t fathom what it could mean, what the future would hold. “I believe he is,” she whispered back.

The sweet floral scent of the salve lifted to Marianne’s nose as Eliza worked it into the skin of her hand and wrist. It had a relaxing effect, urging Marianne to take a deep breath and let it out. She might not know what to do with a husband just yet, but she was still newly married. Surely, she was not the first; many wives were out of place upon their marriage, and she would find her footing eventually.

Eliza toppered the salve bottle and stood, offering Marianne a hand out of bed.

“What will we do when the salve is gone?” she asked.

Marianne shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure my… husband has a family doctor nearby, but he might not have knowledge of this salve like Mr. Sanders, or experience with my condition. I’m sure Father will tell him I’ve gone, but I think I’d like to write to him and see if he’d find it worth his time making the trip.”

She did not miss the hopeful smile that Eliza tried to hide as she nodded. “Marriage has made you wise, miss. Or shall I call you madam now?”

“Was I not always wise?” Marianne teased. “And I suppose you should, for the sake of the rest of the staff. I’ll get used to it someday.”

“Very good. Then let us get you ready for breakfast.”

Eliza helped her ready for the day and picked out a pretty pink day dress with a simple set of gloves. Marianne had told her husband about her hand, but she wasn’t quite ready to show him the ghastly thing, let alone be the talk of the staff, so she determined to wear gloves outside her bedroom and spare them for as long as possible.

Taking an unsteady breath, Marianne looked over her reflection in the mirror as Eliza finished pinning her brown hair. She did not feel any different than she had the day before. She did not look like a married woman, but she was. When would the nerves leave her, and the reality of her situation become normal?

“How do I look?” Marianne asked in a low voice, not yet ready to rise from the chair.

“Like the lovely mistress of the house, if I do say so myself.” Eliza moved beside her and offered her a hand up. “You’ll have a lovely day once you’ve started with your breakfast. I’ll be up here unpacking your clothes and things if you need me.”

“Shouldn’t I just have breakfast brought to my room instead?” Marianne gave her a hopeful smile.

“Not on my watch. You must show a brave face on your first day.” Eliza placed her hands on Marianne’s shoulders. “And you can come cry on my shoulder if you need to, but I think you can manage well enough on your own.”

Marianne swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “It should be me ordering you around, Eliza, but as always, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

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