The Light in the Darkness by Ellen Fisher Page A

warning. “Diana was the only person to ever call him by his given name. I wouldn’t advise you to do so.”
    Jenny nodded. The thought of calling her strange, remote husband by his first name had not even occurred to her. Nor would she feel comfortable referring to him by his nickname. If she were to call him anything at all, she decided, it would probably be Mr. Greyson.
    The maid sat her down, though Jenny was still unclothed but for a silk wrapper, and began to untangle her dripping hair. Catherine studied her thoughtfully as she winced beneath the onslaught of the silver comb. “And now let me ask you something,” she said. “Why did you marry Grey?”
    Jenny’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “I thought ’e was a ’ero,” she murmured.
    Catherine laughed shortly. “Grey’s not a hero. He’s a bastard.”
    Jenny had no reply to make to that statement. It seemed entirely too obvious to comment on. In the past hour it had become painfully evident that Grey had married her solely to spite his sister. Now she understood all too plainly why he had acted as though he could barely stand the sight of her. He had intended to make her sleep in the stables and work in the cookhouse, as though she were a slave. He found her pitiful and contemptible.
    The memory of his angry voice slashed into her pathetic remnants of self-respect.
Simpleminded, unattractive, and filthy.
These painful words revolved endlessly in her mind.
    While Jenny’s long hair was being combed out, Catherine paced the floor of the chamber slowly, thinking out loud. “Grey does not have the respect he should have for you. Not surprisingly, as you were scarcely the sort of woman a man of our class would respect. Now that he has been foolish enough to wed you, however, you are a lady. We shall have to work hard to make you worthy of that designation.
    “And then, perhaps, you can earn Grey’s respect.” At the brief flash of hope that illuminated Jenny’s face, she snapped, “His respect, but not his love. Don’t be foolishly romantic. It’s normal enough for a girl your age to long for love, but love is not necessary in a marriage. Respect is. Eventually, if things continue as they are, you will grow to loathe the very sight of your husband, and while Grey probably deserves your hatred, I cannot in good conscience condemn a girl your age to such a life.”
    Jenny gave her a dubious look from beneath her tangled wet hair. She knew full well that she would never have the confidence and poise that the other woman exuded. She was nothing more than a tavern wench. She was nothing at all. But she wanted something more than his respect. She wanted love.
    “If I could earn ’is respect, couldn’t I earn ’is love someday?”
    Catherine felt a flash of sorrow and pity for the girl, condemned forever to a loveless existence. She had probably never known love in her life, or even kindness, and from the expression on her face she wanted it desperately. But she ruthlessly suppressed her pity, and said sharply, “Grey has no love left for anyone. He’s grown colder and more bitter with each passing year. Don’t fool yourself into believing you can change him, for women cannot change men, no matter how much we might like to. Heaven knows I’ve tried … and you have seen the results of my efforts.” Shesighed, and added, “But since God—or Grey—has given you this opportunity to change yourself for the better, you should not pass it up. We can start with your name. Jenny is inappropriate for a lady. Is your full name Jennifer?”
    The girl nodded.
    “Then that is the name we will use. With your hair done up properly, and in a decent gown, you may perhaps be presentable. But appearances are not all that being a lady entails. You must be able to read and speak intelligently. You should be able to embroider, to paint, to play the harpsichord.…”
    Jennifer glanced up, and for the first time interest gleamed in the dark depths of her eyes.