Something Old by Rebecca Connolly (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

Chapter Two

“Thank you, Mrs. Robbins. It is so very generous.”

“God bless you for your kindness, Mrs. Granger.”

Lily Granger smiled, dipping her chin as modestly as one could while accepting praise that wasn’t deserved, and turned away from the cottage. She walked out to the road that would take her back to Rainford Park and away from Lundstead, away from her tenants, and away from wearing a smile she did not feel.

It was always a smile she did not feel these days. Not that she hated her home or the village nearby, she simply struggled to find joy in any of it.

Life had made it that way. Or perhaps just her marriage. In many ways, they were one and the same. But she had her independence, and she was well aware that being married to an actual villain would be far worse than being married to a man who couldn’t be bothered to notice her.

Even if she did want him to notice her. And oh, how she had wanted it!

Not so much anymore, however. Those yearnings had been for the early days of her marriage when she still had hope that Thomas would come to love her, would be the man she thought he had been, that their marriage could become one of love despite not being arranged as such. When she looked for him, waited for him to look for her and sat with bated breath in anticipation of being called for. When she hoped to sit with him, walk with him, do anything with him.

When she hoped for anything.

There was no hope for anything anymore, only a mute acceptance of what had become normal. Was it worse to be abused by one’s husband than to be ignored by one? She couldn’t imagine so, but then, Thomas would never be one to injure her in such a physical way. His injuries would always be the silent, unseen sort; the ones that evoked pity but not sympathy; the one that many wives in England would be grateful for.

But not Lily Granger. She wanted her husband’s attention. She wanted his affection. She wanted him.

Years of not having him, his affection, or his attention had left her feeling empty and alone. Despite being surrounded by people in Society and thought to be the most fortunate of women, she felt as though she were living a lie.

And there was no joy whatsoever to be found in the lie.

Out here in the country, it was easier to forget the lie existed. Rainford Park was a large house, as was the estate as a whole, which meant separate lives were far easier to maintain than in London. But London had her friends, and Hampshire had her family. Or, at least, the family she liked best.

Her late cousin’s husband lived a few miles away, and his new wife was one of Lily’s oldest friends. But their lives were full of children and newlywed bliss, something Lily knew absolutely nothing about. She was happy for them, delighted on many levels, but surrounding herself with such happiness was taxing at times, and she could not always bear it. Not when the halls of her own home rang with a deafening silence that echoed into her heart.

Maintaining joy in the midst of such a life had taken its toll on Lily. She could lose herself in serving her tenants, could do good in the neighborhood, and could run a household in the exact way her aunt and mother had educated her, but it all lacked significance when she thought about it too much.

There had to be a better way to live a life, had to be more than just her marriage to define her existence. But when her parents had only ever cared for the connections their daughters could afford them and took little notice of anything else, a mind could become quite fixed on the idea purely from a lack of other incentives.

In that respect, Lily had quite soundly filled her parents’ expectations.

Not as exceptionally as her sister Rosalind, who had married the younger son of the popular, much-envied Rivertons, but there were not many who thought ill of Thomas Granger. Even she could not think particularly ill of him, despite being unhappily married to him these five long years.

Marrying for money when one longed for love could do that.

Her father hadn’t cared that Lily’s dowry would essentially be absorbed by Thomas’s financial losses, leaving them with very little to sustain them without additional gains. He’d thought it his duty to help an old friend in such a way, and that Lily would not do better in connections than to a Granger.

Somehow, their finances stabilized without any noticeable retrenchment, and money had never been mentioned again. Not that Lily cared so very much, given her dowry had never belonged to her in the first place and made her feel more like a horse at market than a woman, but it was curious that a hastily arranged marriage to a fortune hunter had not resulted in any sort of ruin.

Would ruination have brought her closer to her husband than stability had?

She might have preferred it that way.

Days like today were more difficult to bear, as she would have to discuss her activities with Thomas when they dined together this evening. She had been checking on those of their tenants who were less fortunate, offering food and other necessities to help them, and listening to the concerns and worries of several of the women. The winter had been harsh in many respects, and many hopes were pinned on the spring planting the Grangers would host for the estate, if not the fall harvest as well.

Lily did not imagine her husband would take issue with any of this, but if the year were not an abundant one, desperation could become rampant in the area with all the risks and dangers it provided.

If there was one thing Thomas knew well, it was how to make the estate