in this instance.
He would attend the musicale at the end of week and play the dutiful husband. Perhaps
if his wife wasn't feeling too indisposed because of her condition, he might solicit
a dance. He had never enjoyed dancing, but he knew she did. He would make it a
priority to restore their relationship to its previous state of courteous equilibrium.
He
heaved a sigh. Given his shortcomings, it was the least he could do.
SEVEN
"Cecily
has quite outdone herself this year, don't you agree Helena? She tells me the
champagne fountain is quite en vogue in Paris this year, which is why
her chef—French, you know—insisted upon it. He added crushed strawberries to
color the champagne pink. Is that not the cleverest thing you have ever heard?"
Seated
on a settee next to her mother, Helena nodded absent-mindedly. Guests eddied around
them, chatting and laughing, enjoying the intermission between dinner and the
impending musical entertainments. Her attention was on the receiving line. The
butler had announced a flurry of names, not one of them Nicholas'. Where was
he? Had he decided to stay away from the musicale after all? He had promised to
come, but perhaps he had said so only to placate her. Perhaps he was angry at
her for insisting on his presence.
She
felt the tremor of a headache at her temples.
"I
have always admired the design of Cecily's house. So very convenient for
entertaining," her mama enthused. "Why, with all the doors folded
back and the rooms flowing into one another, it is as large as one of the
fields at Vauxhall!"
Helena
forced a smile.
Why
oh why had she railed at Nicholas like a termagant? Ever since the confrontation
in the drawing room, she had berated herself over her most indecorous behavior.
No man liked to be taken to task by his wife. Novice to marriage that she was,
even she understood that. If her goal was to win her husband's heart, why had
she acted in so foolish a manner?
Her
fingers twisted in the fringes of her cashmere shawl. Because she had been
angry, that was why. Furious as she had never been in her entire existence. As
if all the failures of her life had hit her at once, and she had been tired of
waiting for dreams that never materialized. Anger and desperation had made her
reckless. Now, thanks to her rash behavior, she had made a mull of her marriage
in more ways than one. Bad enough that she had seduced her husband masquerading
as a harlot—now she had managed to enrage him acting as a wife.
Good
heavens, could matters get any worse?
"Whatever
is the matter with you tonight, Helena?" Countess Northgate asked.
Helena
blinked. It was not her mother's habit to take notice of her state of mind.
Growing up, she had daydreamed for hours while her parent chattered on (ironically,
usually about the importance of etiquette). She really must compose herself if
Mama perceived that something was amiss.
"Nothing
is the matter," Helena said, summoning a bright smile. "I was just,
er, thinking about household concerns."
"Now
that you are a married lady, I hasten to remind you that keen attention lies at the heart of a happy marriage. However will you learn to please your
husband, if your head remains forever in the clouds?"
Helena's
smile deflated a little.
"Of
course, Mama," she said.
The
Countess of Northgate nodded, her grey velvet turban slipping over her faded
brown curls. Her small hands fluttered to push the headpiece back in place as
she spoke in soft, rapid tones. "One must work very hard to please one's
husband, Helena. At times, it may seem a monumental task. I, myself, have
benefitted from consulting Lady Epplethistle's Compleat Guide from time
to time. Have you reviewed it lately? There are specific guidelines summarized,
I believe, beginning on page one hundred and three ..."
Helena
tried to appear attentive. Once Mama started on a topic, attempts to stop her
proved futile. Especially in social situations such as these, which tended to
stimulate her delicate nerves.
He would attend the musicale at the end of week and play the dutiful husband. Perhaps
if his wife wasn't feeling too indisposed because of her condition, he might solicit
a dance. He had never enjoyed dancing, but he knew she did. He would make it a
priority to restore their relationship to its previous state of courteous equilibrium.
He
heaved a sigh. Given his shortcomings, it was the least he could do.
SEVEN
"Cecily
has quite outdone herself this year, don't you agree Helena? She tells me the
champagne fountain is quite en vogue in Paris this year, which is why
her chef—French, you know—insisted upon it. He added crushed strawberries to
color the champagne pink. Is that not the cleverest thing you have ever heard?"
Seated
on a settee next to her mother, Helena nodded absent-mindedly. Guests eddied around
them, chatting and laughing, enjoying the intermission between dinner and the
impending musical entertainments. Her attention was on the receiving line. The
butler had announced a flurry of names, not one of them Nicholas'. Where was
he? Had he decided to stay away from the musicale after all? He had promised to
come, but perhaps he had said so only to placate her. Perhaps he was angry at
her for insisting on his presence.
She
felt the tremor of a headache at her temples.
"I
have always admired the design of Cecily's house. So very convenient for
entertaining," her mama enthused. "Why, with all the doors folded
back and the rooms flowing into one another, it is as large as one of the
fields at Vauxhall!"
Helena
forced a smile.
Why
oh why had she railed at Nicholas like a termagant? Ever since the confrontation
in the drawing room, she had berated herself over her most indecorous behavior.
No man liked to be taken to task by his wife. Novice to marriage that she was,
even she understood that. If her goal was to win her husband's heart, why had
she acted in so foolish a manner?
Her
fingers twisted in the fringes of her cashmere shawl. Because she had been
angry, that was why. Furious as she had never been in her entire existence. As
if all the failures of her life had hit her at once, and she had been tired of
waiting for dreams that never materialized. Anger and desperation had made her
reckless. Now, thanks to her rash behavior, she had made a mull of her marriage
in more ways than one. Bad enough that she had seduced her husband masquerading
as a harlot—now she had managed to enrage him acting as a wife.
Good
heavens, could matters get any worse?
"Whatever
is the matter with you tonight, Helena?" Countess Northgate asked.
Helena
blinked. It was not her mother's habit to take notice of her state of mind.
Growing up, she had daydreamed for hours while her parent chattered on (ironically,
usually about the importance of etiquette). She really must compose herself if
Mama perceived that something was amiss.
"Nothing
is the matter," Helena said, summoning a bright smile. "I was just,
er, thinking about household concerns."
"Now
that you are a married lady, I hasten to remind you that keen attention lies at the heart of a happy marriage. However will you learn to please your
husband, if your head remains forever in the clouds?"
Helena's
smile deflated a little.
"Of
course, Mama," she said.
The
Countess of Northgate nodded, her grey velvet turban slipping over her faded
brown curls. Her small hands fluttered to push the headpiece back in place as
she spoke in soft, rapid tones. "One must work very hard to please one's
husband, Helena. At times, it may seem a monumental task. I, myself, have
benefitted from consulting Lady Epplethistle's Compleat Guide from time
to time. Have you reviewed it lately? There are specific guidelines summarized,
I believe, beginning on page one hundred and three ..."
Helena
tried to appear attentive. Once Mama started on a topic, attempts to stop her
proved futile. Especially in social situations such as these, which tended to
stimulate her delicate nerves.
Similar Books
