for a more appropriate residence for her. Perhaps she would like a home near the coast. Sea air, he had heard, was particularly healthful.
* * *
Despite Mattie’s complaints about her lack of decorum, Elizabeth had stuck her head out of the window as soon as the coach turned off the main road and into the rutted drive she assumed to be that of her new home. Within seconds she was jerking her head back inside to avoid being slapped in the face by encroaching tree limbs and brambles. After five minutes of dodging the vegetation, she sat back in her seat, rumpled and discouraged. More trees and undergrowth stretched for as far as she could see.
“When Mother said my new home was to be secluded, she did not exaggerate,” Elizabeth commented with a sigh. She glanced at the menacing walls of greenery crowding in on either side of the carriage. It was only trees and shrubbery, not iron bars, she reminded herself. There was no reason to feel as though she were being transported into a prison. Was there?
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Mattie said with an obviously forced smile. “If you have access to a carriage and horses, you can get out. There must be a village nearby. You can find a new church and maybe visit Mrs. Wilson a few times a year. She’ll always be glad to see you.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, even as she set her mouth in determined lines. “I must have a coach—or at the very least, a gig. We seem to be miles from the nearest neighbor. I can’t live like this. I shall inform my husband that he must provide me with some means of transportation.”
By the time the carriage finally slowed to a stop, Elizabeth’s interest in seeing her new home had waned. She didn’t bother looking out the window but simply sat and waited until her husband dismounted and stepped up to open the door for her.
“We are here, my lady,” Kenrick said. His rather irritated tone did nothing to soothe Elizabeth’s feelings.
“Are we, my lord?” She glared at him a few seconds before gathering her rumpled skirts and then allowing him to help her down from the carriage.
No sooner had her feet touched the ground than her stomach protested her lack of food by issuing a rather loud rumble.
Her husband’s eyes widened. “Are you hungry?” he asked, obviously not having given any consideration to her lack of food since early that morning.
“How kind of you to inquire, my lord,” she replied, imbuing her tone with sarcasm. She sighed before continuing. “Yes, I am hungry. I am also thirsty and extremely warm. We have, after all, been traveling nonstop. I assume this is my new home.” She turned her back to him and stood pretending to inspect the façade of the cottage while fighting back tears. She had hoped for something more from her marriage, at least a bit of consideration from her new husband, but obviously he was no more willing than her parents had been to give her the benefit of the doubt.
She squared her shoulders and turned back to address him. “If it is not asking too much, Mattie and I will step inside where we might at least get a sip of water. I assume this meets with your approval.”
* * *
Kenrick gaped, almost too stunned to nod his head. Was this the shy, stammering girl of yesterday and earlier today? She looked the same, but she certainly did not sound the same. Why was she not stuttering? And why did she tilt her head back and glare at him down her straight little nose before turning on her toe and heading toward the front door?
Kenrick followed, bemused, as his bride—this female who was supposedly unnerved by new experiences—marched up the steps and began chattering with Mrs. Freeman, who had hurried out onto the cottage’s front stoop.
“Certainly, my lady,” Mrs. Freeman was saying as she curtsied. “Your bedchamber is ready for you now, and I shall have a small nuncheon spread out in the dining room as soon as you have changed. One of the
* * *
Despite Mattie’s complaints about her lack of decorum, Elizabeth had stuck her head out of the window as soon as the coach turned off the main road and into the rutted drive she assumed to be that of her new home. Within seconds she was jerking her head back inside to avoid being slapped in the face by encroaching tree limbs and brambles. After five minutes of dodging the vegetation, she sat back in her seat, rumpled and discouraged. More trees and undergrowth stretched for as far as she could see.
“When Mother said my new home was to be secluded, she did not exaggerate,” Elizabeth commented with a sigh. She glanced at the menacing walls of greenery crowding in on either side of the carriage. It was only trees and shrubbery, not iron bars, she reminded herself. There was no reason to feel as though she were being transported into a prison. Was there?
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Mattie said with an obviously forced smile. “If you have access to a carriage and horses, you can get out. There must be a village nearby. You can find a new church and maybe visit Mrs. Wilson a few times a year. She’ll always be glad to see you.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, even as she set her mouth in determined lines. “I must have a coach—or at the very least, a gig. We seem to be miles from the nearest neighbor. I can’t live like this. I shall inform my husband that he must provide me with some means of transportation.”
By the time the carriage finally slowed to a stop, Elizabeth’s interest in seeing her new home had waned. She didn’t bother looking out the window but simply sat and waited until her husband dismounted and stepped up to open the door for her.
“We are here, my lady,” Kenrick said. His rather irritated tone did nothing to soothe Elizabeth’s feelings.
“Are we, my lord?” She glared at him a few seconds before gathering her rumpled skirts and then allowing him to help her down from the carriage.
No sooner had her feet touched the ground than her stomach protested her lack of food by issuing a rather loud rumble.
Her husband’s eyes widened. “Are you hungry?” he asked, obviously not having given any consideration to her lack of food since early that morning.
“How kind of you to inquire, my lord,” she replied, imbuing her tone with sarcasm. She sighed before continuing. “Yes, I am hungry. I am also thirsty and extremely warm. We have, after all, been traveling nonstop. I assume this is my new home.” She turned her back to him and stood pretending to inspect the façade of the cottage while fighting back tears. She had hoped for something more from her marriage, at least a bit of consideration from her new husband, but obviously he was no more willing than her parents had been to give her the benefit of the doubt.
She squared her shoulders and turned back to address him. “If it is not asking too much, Mattie and I will step inside where we might at least get a sip of water. I assume this meets with your approval.”
* * *
Kenrick gaped, almost too stunned to nod his head. Was this the shy, stammering girl of yesterday and earlier today? She looked the same, but she certainly did not sound the same. Why was she not stuttering? And why did she tilt her head back and glare at him down her straight little nose before turning on her toe and heading toward the front door?
Kenrick followed, bemused, as his bride—this female who was supposedly unnerved by new experiences—marched up the steps and began chattering with Mrs. Freeman, who had hurried out onto the cottage’s front stoop.
“Certainly, my lady,” Mrs. Freeman was saying as she curtsied. “Your bedchamber is ready for you now, and I shall have a small nuncheon spread out in the dining room as soon as you have changed. One of the
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