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Chapter Fourteen
Patricia closed the door to the room. It was small and painted a soft powder blue. A small desk in one corner, as well as an upholstered blue armchair. A room just for her, where she could retreat to write letters or do other duties that were required of the Duchess of Merriweather. It had a sweeping view over St. James’s Square.
She sighed with contentment as she settled herself at the desk and stared out at the scene. Jackson had taken her by the hand after luncheon was over, leading her here. She tried not to think about how heavy her hand had felt in his own or how she had suddenly been besieged with memories of their night of passion.
He hadn’t told her where he was taking her. He had simply led her here, pushing open the door. She had stepped inside, slightly confused.
“This is your very own study,” he declared, smiling proudly. “I know it is not as large or opulent as my own, but it is comfortable.”
She had turned to him with delight. She had briefly looked in this room the day before when he had taken her on a tour of the house, but he had not told her what its function was then. And she had been so overwhelmed with it all she had not thought to ask.
“My very own?” she breathed. “Why, it is unheard of! My own mother has never had a study of her own. She usually writes letters or does other matters in the parlour of our homes.”
Jackson had smiled. “Apparently, my father insisted my mother have her very own room for affairs. She chose this one and decorated it to her tastes.” He took a deep breath. “I think it appropriate that you have it now, Patricia. I am sure she would be thrilled that you shall use it.”
She had drifted around the room, trailing a hand over the furniture. It was snug and it was cosy. She would enjoy very much the opportunity to retreat here, when she needed to. Once again, she was struck with the notion of how very thoughtful her new husband was. He seemed so eager for her to settle in and feel at home.
He had left her alone, to become acquainted with the room. Apparently, he had business matters to attend to outside the house that afternoon; a solicitor’s appointment, followed by a horse auction. He promised faithfully that he would return in good time for dinner. And then surprised her further by hesitantly asking if she would like to attend the theatre at Covent Garden that evening with him.
She had been so thrilled at the prospect that it had taken all her effort not to fling her arms around him in joy; instead, she had demurely thanked him and told him she would greatly enjoy a night out at the theatre. He seemed pleased with her enthusiasm. In fact, he seemed very pleased with her all-round. He had not mentioned the previous night and what had happened between them, but she could tell by his warm gaze that he was happy.
Her gaze lingered on the square, outside the window. Ladies and gentlemen, in their afternoon finery were promenading around the square. A little girl ran ahead of a couple rolling a hoop, beaming with pleasure. Her parents smiled benevolently upon her. Patricia’s heart suddenly tightened. Would she be blessed with children one day? Would she and Jackson be so blessed?
But then, her smile faded. It still didn’t seem possible that she and her new husband would find such wedded bliss together. The prospect of asking him about financial help for her family loomed over her head like the sword of Damocles. It would either come swinging down and cut off any hope of them having happiness together or swing wide and narrowly miss them.
There was still hope that he might understand, but she knew the longer she put it off, the worse it would be. This happiness was as temporary as a bubble floating within the air. As soon as it burst, the happiness would dissipate and nothing would be the same when he learned the truth of it.
But how could she broach it? When would be the right moment?
Suddenly, she thought of Eleanor, and how she had wanted to confide in her friend on her wedding day. Eleanor was so very wise and sensible, and she had experience in such matters. There had not been a good time to talk with her about it at the wedding breakfast, but perhaps she could still confide in her friend and ask her for some much-needed advice on the subject.
She hesitated for only a moment. It went against all her notions of family loyalty to talk about this with anyone else. She was in such turmoil, and truly did not know the best way to proceed.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for a fresh sheet of parchment and laid it out in front of her on the desk. Then she picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink well.
My dearest Eleanor,
I hope this letter finds you and your family well. It was such a very great pleasure to see you and your husband at our wedding breakfast and I do hope that you enjoyed the morning.
I write to you, my friend, in the hope that you can offer me some sorely needed advice on a difficult subject. It has been preying upon my mind heavily and I find that I cannot move forward without some wise advice. I trust you implicitly and I know that you always have my best interests at heart.
I do not wish to speak of the matter in writing. Would I be able to arrange a visit with you, so that we can speak in person about it? I am at your convenience, my dear friend, and hope that you do not feel burdened by me requesting such a heartfelt talk. If so, I shall understand completely, and we need never speak on the matter again.
Your loving friend,
Patricia
She sat back in the chair, waiting for the ink to dry. Then she folded it and sealed it with wax. For a moment, she hesitated, staring down at it. Just because she had written it did not mean she had to send it. She could throw it upon the fire if she liked.
But then she took a deep breath and stood up. She had made up her mind. Shedidtrust Eleanor. Her friend never broke confidences. She wasn’t a gossiper. If she talked about this matter with Eleanor, it would not go any further. She was sure of it.
Resolutely, she walked out the door. She would make sure the letter was delivered this very afternoon. There was not a moment longer to spare. She must talk to Jackson about the matter before it became a permanent wedge between them. Their marriage had gotten off to such a promising start. She fervently did not wish to ruin it before it had even begun.
* * *
Hours later, Patricia was just about to head up the staircase to change for the evening at the theatre when she heard a carriage drawing up outside the front door. Curious, she looked out the drawing room window. Her eyes widened. She recognized that carriage. It belonged to her own family. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Who could it be?
The answer was immediate. The next moment, she saw her sister Margaret step out, glancing hesitantly at the door. She was dressed in a pretty blue gown with a matching bonnet on her head. She was alone.
