I wore a tight-fitting gown of plush scarlet to dinner, an appropriate color for me of late, I thought. I greeted Adam warmly as I entered the room, and then we were silent as Mrs. Delvers poured us each a glass of wine, nearly the same color as my dress. I took a large gulp to bolster my courage. No point in waiting around all night, I might as well say what I'd come to say. I cleared my throat.
"I wondered, my lord, if we might discuss my sentence of service. I have labored in your gardens for almost two months now, and surely the price of one rose must be near to being paid off. I wish to know how much longer I am expected to stay."
"Your sentence of service? It shall be as long as your lord commands it!" He rose from his seat, clearly irritated.
"If you please, my lord, even an indentured servant is given a set limit. By all rights I should have been informed of it before I began." My voice quavered slightly, and my hands shook, but I stayed my ground. I could not, would not, become Adam's plaything, despoiling myself for a future husband. My head had been turned by this handsome giant of a man, but it would end now. I owed myself that much.
"Indentured servant?" His mouth hung open. "Have you been treated so cruelly? Have I not fed you from my own table, given you fine garments to wear, and entertainments to pass your day? Has the easy work in the garden been too taxing for you?" His sarcasm was palpable. "Do not pretend this is about the night on your bed, or today in the stable. Your body would make a liar of you if you say you did not want it." I flushed with shame, and he crossed the room to me, kneeling by my chair as I sat.
"Please, I cannot..." I began, but was too embarrassed to deny that he was right. It was true, my body wanted, but my mind was firmly against it. For my own self-preservation, I had to be strong, and remove myself from this situation.
"Belle," he said softly, taking my hand in his. "You would leave me?" His voice was strained, almost hoarse, and I looked up to see genuine sadness on his face.
"My lord, I must maintain my integrity! You have such an effect on me as makes it nearly impossible to do so. How can I have a future with another man if I give everything to you? You cannot tell me it doesn't matter, you know it does! Should I sacrifice everything to bring you - and me, yes - a moment of fleeting pleasure? Would you ask this of another girl, not bound to your house and to serve you? How can you ask me to give up a future for an afternoon or an evening with you? Please, my lord, you must see the practical side of this."
He sat back on his heels, his face registering a look of surprise.
"This is what concerns you? Belle, my Belle, my beautiful Belle..." His voice trailed off as he raised a hand to my face, softly caressing it with the back of his hand. Despite myself, I leaned into it, adoring the display of affection.
"I would never have cast you aside. What you must think of me... I cannot apologize enough for my behavior. The sight of you, the very smell of you, drives me mad. From the moment you came here, so scared and sweet and nobly protecting your father, you've bewitched me. The feelings you've brought back to my life, Belle, I thought were long gone. I was in the dark, and you brought the light. You ARE my light." He brought my hand to his lips, placing a kiss in my open palm and holding it against his face. "I didn't know how bleak my life was, till you came. Please Belle, please don't leave me now."
"But - but -" I sputtered. My head was spinning. Could this be true?
"What? What reservations could you have left? Your honor? Your integrity? Marry me. Marry me and be mine forever, Belle. I'll make a respectable woman of you. I couldn't bear the thought of another man taking you. You are mine, always."
Marry him? My heart leapt, but my head was still reeling. Feelings of joy mixed with disbelief. Was he jesting with me? Perhaps this was an elaborate ploy to get me to bed after all. How could a great lord like he possibly be intrigued by a plain girl like me? For that matter, surely he couldn't marry a commoner. There had to be rules and restrictions against that sort of thing. I had no title, barely a penny to my name. There would doubtless be an uproar among the wealthy citizens, or his fellow lords and ladies.
If he truly held such feelings for me, why had he said nothing before? I'd never seen any indication that his intentions spanned beyond the purely physical, and pleasurable as that was, it was not a serious commitment. He was so mysterious, always giving me only a taste of an answer before pulling back. How could I marry this man, a man I hardly knew? And yet - how could I marry anyone else? My body responded to him, yes, but my mind also did. The conversations we'd had about books, the laughing and the long rides spent talking about so many things had earned him esteem in my thoughts. Though I might try to deny it to myself, my heart also longed for him. It had latched on to his proposal as a drowning man latches to a raft. Could I break my own heart over the niggling hint of doubt in the back of my mind?
"I hardly know you." It was barely a whisper, but it was the closest I could come to voicing my inner turmoil.
"Then learn to know me. Ask me anything Belle, and I will answer you now. I know I haven't been forthcoming, but I cannot lose you." Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to my forehead, and my resistance melted away a little more.
"Well..." I was reluctant to begin. He'd responded so poorly to my questions before. I had many, I was burning with them, but where to begin? "The greenhouse - you said you built it for your wife, but you never visit it. Why make such a fuss over the roses you never even bother to see?"
He sat back again with a small sigh.
"Regina - my wife - loved roses. She had almost an obsession with them really, always insisting on great bunches of them being placed throughout her rooms, even wearing their scent. Before we were married, I was young and eager to impress. I was captivated by her. I wanted to make my bride the happiest she could be, so I built the greenhouse for her as a wedding gift, so she could have her beloved roses year-round." He paused to rub his forehead, no doubt thinking of his sorrow at her loss. Dropping his hand, he continued. "Before the wedding, I brought her there, and she adored it. After we were married, she would spend hours in that greenhouse, basking in the scent of roses till it permeated her very pores." He paused again, as if unsure how to proceed.
"I keep the greenhouse, make sure it's taken care of, to remind me of her. I keep it so I never forget." His voice grew bitter. How tragic to have lost such a love! "I keep it to remind me, but I never visit because I can't bear it."
I felt guilty for asking such painful questions, but I had to proceed. He'd promised to answer my questions now, and I might not get another chance.
"What happened? How did she... die?" I winced as I said the word.
"Drowned. In the lake. She took her little rowboat out often. She liked to sit in the middle of the lake, in her boat, away from everyone else. She used to say that it was only when she was there, alone, that she was truly herself." He cast his eyes to the side and his voice took on a rehearsed quality. "One day her boat came in without her. It was drifting near the shore, empty, and the groundskeeper found it. We searched for days, but never found her body."
I wondered how many times he'd had to tell the tragic story. He must distance himself from it emotionally, to remain so stoic.
"You are so curious about my wife," said Adam. "Come with me. I'll show you her room, and perhaps you will get a better picture of her. Perhaps I will be reminded of her as well, and my folly." His folly? He must mean being unable to find her body, or inability to save her. I longed to comfort him, to tell him he mustn't blame himself, but right now I had to focus on the answers he was providing, and the offer to visit her room.
I couldn't tell him that Mr. Delvers had shown me the room already, not now when he was being so forthcoming and open, so I merely nodded and stood. If he wanted to show me the room, I would follow, and try to see it through fresh eyes. Surely seeing it through the eyes of the man who loved her would be different than the eerie, near worship of Regina shown by Mrs. Delvers.
He took my hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, and led the way to her room. I let him guide me, giving no indication I knew where we were headed in terms of direction. Despite my misgivings about his motivations, I savored the intimate contact. His other hand was placed warmly over mine, his thumb gently tracing absent-minded circles over it. He held my hand close to his body, so it brushed against his massive ribcage with every step, reminding me of other times when our bodies had been so close. I quickly turned my thoughts from that course. Now was not the time.
Adam seemed pensive as we mounted the stairs, not looking at me or saying anything. I left him to his own thoughts, as my head was quite full enough on my own. Lady August. He wanted me to be his wife, to be a proper Lady. He'd asked me to be mistress of this castle, of the land, and yet all I could do was ask about his late wife. Was something wrong with me? Before I knew it, we had arrived at the doors of Regina's room. Adam drew in a deep breath, then cast the doors open and led me over the threshold.
The room was exactly as I'd remembered, of course, as Mrs. Delvers would never let anything stray out of place. Adam seemed frozen with shock, and I remembered that Mrs. Delvers had said he hadn't come into Regina's room since her death. It was different, being here with him. I tried to imagine how he must see it. There, a gown his wife had worn, here, the hairbrush she'd used every night. Perhaps he'd brushed her hair for her when he'd come to her room. I could imagine the two of them, cozy and laughing together as they prepared to share their marriage bed, and grew jealous. It was silly to be jealous of a dead woman, but there it was. I began to realize the depth of my feelings for Adam. How could I ever leave him, even if he wasn't sincere in his offer of marriage? My heart told me to trust him, to believe the best. This woman, Regina, could have no effect on me now, for Lord August was now mine.
Curiosity still burned within me, even though I wanted to dismiss her from my mind. I stepped forward and admired her fine bed covering again. The roses were so intricately designed, each petal seemed to stand out apart from the others. The gold threads still glistened and I reached out a hand to stroke them. Though I willed myself not to think about it, I couldn't help but wonder how many times Regina and Adam had coupled together upon this very bed. I tried to push the thought aside, but it persisted, my insecurities surfacing yet again. She must have been very beautiful to have been so universally admired. I thought with dismay of my own rather plain appearance. Did Adam compare us and find me wanting? Running my fingers over the lovely bed cover again I sighed.
"What is it, Belle?" Adam was behind me, his hands coming to rest upon my shoulders and pulling me into his chest.
"How can you even consider me?" My heart felt as if it were strained, too small and tight inside my chest. "How could I ever compare? Do you really think you might one day love me, as you loved her?"
His fingers tightened on my shoulder, and he spun me around to face him. His expression was inscrutable; I could not read it. He gazed into my eyes as if searching for something.
"Loved her? You thought I loved her?" Confused, I could only stare back at him. What did he mean?
