Page 61 of An Agreement with the Soldier (Necessary Arrangements 2)

John looked bored and impatient. He didn’t bother to convey the impression of a happy groom. He grunted in answer to congratulations and steered his wife away if she lingered too long at any particular cottage. By the time they were done, his mood had turned completely foul, and he kept looking at the sun, as if he was angry that it kept moving too fast for him.

He escorted her to the carriage without a word and handed her inside.

She settled comfortably before deciding to speak up, lest he wander away without another word. “I realize that I’ve ruined your schedule, but you didn’t have to be rude.”

He looked at her as if surprised. “I wasn’t rude.”

“Oh.” She looked at him with wide eyes. “That was you being polite?”

“Look, Sam.” He lifted the hat from his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I am a soldier. Smiling at people and making small talk is not my thing. I have work to do.”

“So, you’ve said.” She turned away without another word and stared out the window. From the corner of her eye, she saw John hesitate by the carriage. He looked as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it and just shook his head. He then gently closed the door and gestured for the groom to be on their way.

* * *

John came home a few hours after suppertime. He bathed without hurry, changed his clothing, and sauntered into the dining room. A cold supper stood on the table, a lone wine glass next to it. Sam was nowhere to be seen. She’d probably eaten hours ago and was now readying for bed.

He was bungling this marriage. John had known he wouldn’t be a great husband, but they had been married for a mere three days, and he was already failing. He’d abandoned her alone at the house, and when she’d tried to do something useful, he’d been rude and surly. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted their marriage to go. Marriage to Sam was supposed to be easy: lively suppers, long conversations, passionate nights. When he’d dreamed of it, he’d never taken into consideration how inept he was in making someone comfortable. He wanted to make things right, but he didn’t even know how to go about doing that.

He wasn’t good with words. When he was in the army, he’d used letters as an outlet, writing out his feelings to Julie. But as soon as that communication had stopped, he’d forgotten how to use words for anything other than commands. Simply talking felt like torture to him. What was he to say to her, anyway? That he was sorry for how he’d acted? He was, but it wasn’t as if he was going to change overnight either. He didn’t want her roaming around the estate alone; he couldn’t show her around either. Not until he found more workers. Although where he was going to get them, he didn’t know.

Maybe he should have left her in London until everything here was done. He sighed and sipped on his wine. Maybe he needed something stronger tonight. Not that it ever actually helped. It only made everything worse as far as he could remember. Dull the pain for an hour, feel it all over again afterward. And the nightmares would worsen. No, he’d given up strong liquor for a reason, and he wasn’t going to subject Sam to his drunkenness. His surliness was enough.

He finished his food quickly and went looking for his wife. He needed to talk to her, come what may.

John found her in the library. The room was cleaner than he last remembered, cozier. Sam was curled up in a chair next to the hearth, a book on her lap. She looked up as he came in and closed the book, marking the page.

“Are you enjoying the book?” he asked, grasping at something to start the conversation.

“I was,” she said, pointedly referring to him ruining her enjoyment.

“I am sorry I interrupted then,” he said, looking around. Then he walked over to the chair closest to her and lowered himself into it. “Do you think you can spare some time for us to have a conversation?”

“Do you mean an actual conversation, or one where I talk and you avoid my questions, concerns, and doubts? Because we’ve already had that.”

“Sam,” he breathed and looked at her wearily. “I am certain you’ve already noticed it, but I have no idea how to be a husband. I should have told you before, should have explained it better…” He paused and shook his head as he stared at the fire in the hearth. “I was a soldier for most of my adult life. All I know how to do is follow orders and kill, how to command soldiers and make them kill. I don’t know how to live a civilian life, I never have.”

“That is not an excuse, John. You have to learn some day.”

“I know. But I can’t do it now. I don’t have time to sift through my feelings and figure out how to be friendly and outgoing. I have people who depend on me. I need to help them now.”

“And what about your wife? Do you mean to keep ignoring me?”

“I am not ignoring you.” He frowned at her again. “But I can’t be with you all day while the roofs of the tenants’ houses are falling, the bridges are collapsing, and the stables drowning after the rain. Until I can find people to do the work, I need to do it myself.”

Sam sighed. “Very well. You do the work and keep to your responsibilities. And I shall keep to mine.” She raised her book and started reading from it again, ignoring him. Dismissing him. He rested his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes.

How he’d dreamed of quiet evenings like this during the war. He’d dreamed of his Angel sitting like this with a book, reading to him. Of hearing her angelic voice, being surrounded by her innocence. And now she was here, with him. But he couldn’t quite recreate the evening of his dreams. Of course, he could not. For those evenings to turn into reality, he had to be different. Not this broken man, who couldn’t communicate with his wife properly.

He stood and slowly walked toward her. She looked up at him when he was a few inches away. He lowered his head and kissed her chastely on her forehead.

“Good night,” he said and walked away.

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