Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

that her husband was again the lover ofMargaret Mainwairing and she had just heard from people who had noknowledge of her presence that he had been her mother's lover. Therehad been ample opportunity for him to tell her that and he had not doneso. How could she then trust?

Danielle found that she had no difficulty accepting the fact that herhusband and her mother had once been lovers. She lay in her darkenedchamber and thought. It was a peculiar circumstance, certainly, but nomore than that. Justin must have been barely a man at that time and sheherself a nothing in eternity—unconceived and unthought of. But he hadnot told her and if he could not tell her such a fundamental fact howmuch more would he keep secret?

When Justin came home he found his wife apparently asleep, herbreathing even in the dark room. She had been looking fatigued justrecently and was in sore need of an undisturbed night. He tiptoed fromthe room to seek a lonely bed next door. As the door closed, Danielleburied her face in the pillows, muffling the sound of her sobs.

*  *  *

She awoke the next morning after a few broken hours of sleep, quietlydetermined. If Justin chose to play Society's game then would she also.She would be his wife, his hostess, would manage his households, butshe would be no willing playmate. She would not refuse him her bodywhen he required it, but neither would she offer it. He could take hispleasurefrom Margaret Mainwairing.

Danielle sipped her hot chocolate, propped up against a fluffy mountainof pillows and read the billets doux scattered over the satin spread.Ordinarily, the effusive notes would have amused her and she would haveshared their contents with Justin, calling through the connecting dooras he attended to his morning toilette. This morning she pushed themaside with a desultory hand and concentrated instead on her plans forthe day. There was work to be done with a family lodged near St. Paul'sand she was in fair mood to wage battle.

"I will get up," she announced to Molly, throwing aside the bedcovers."A riding habit, I care not which one."

When Justin appeared, expecting to find his wife pink and pearlybeneath the covers ready to exchange accounts of their separateevenings, he found only a brisk lady in riding dress who proffered hercheek

for his morning salute, laughed brightly, and said she wasalready late for her appointment. He bowed

her from the room andreturned to his own chamber to exchange the brocade dressing gown formorning dress, a deep frown creasing his brow.

Things went from bad to worse. Danielle suffered from an inordinatenumber of headaches that necessitated her early retirement of anevening and Justin, faced with the pale face, smudged eyes, and clearlyeffortful smile, could not doubt her excuse. After the second week heprobed gently and received only a listless response. There was nothingthe matter with her, only she would be glad when the Season was over.But when he suggested they go to Danesbury for a se'enight she was fullof protestations. How could they miss the Duchess of Richmond'sridotto? And besides she had a host of other engagements ...

He had capitulated with apparent serenity and attempted to court hiswife, arranging elaborate surprises, on one occasion waking her at fiveo'clock in the morning to tell her to don her britches because theywere riding to Richmond where they could gallop without fear of pryingeyes and sharp tongues. She had complied, but with such lack ofenthusiasm that Justin felt as if he had received a glove in his face.After that, he left her alone. She was always polite, never turned himfrom her bed, but hefound he had no stomach for the passive body beneath him, obedient toher conjugal duty. Reassuring himself that Danielle was going through aperiod of adjustment that had been inevitable—her past experiences boreno relation to her present and she must at some point reconcile thetwo—Justin made the biggest mistake of his life and countenanced herwithdrawal.

They became polite strangers, meeting by accident on the staircase,exchanging small talk over the dinner table. Justin returned to hisbachelor existence and his wife played her part, surrounded byadmirers, the very soul of gaiety, except that she was becoming thinand the brown eyes huge in the small face. She was also seen much inthe company of D'Evron.

More often than not, though, she ventured alone into the backslums todeal, with an icy tongue and a handful of guineas, with the exploiters.The Countess of Linton was now well known and urgent notes reached herdaily, scribbled in hasty French on scraps of paper with the bluntedend of a quill pen. Danielle responded to them all and by so doingmanaged to push her marital problems into the background. She had a jobto do and a purpose to fulfill and the triviality of London's Seasonrapidly lost all appeal. Nevertheless, she took her part in the roundof balls and assemblies, ever gay, ever flirtatious, never a crackshowing in the public facade.

Justin endured in stolid silence, certain that he was doing the rightthing. The child and the woman would come together eventually, and hemust stand aside. He ached with loneliness but kept the ache wellconcealed.

Early one rainy afternoon, returning from his club with a piece ofscurrilous gossip that he hoped might amuse Danielle, he was informedthat My Lady had not left her bedchamber today. Much puzzled he mountedthe stairs and entered his wife's room without ceremony. At first itappeared empty as well as cold and dismal. There was no fire in thegrate, no lighted candles, and the rain beat desolately against

thewindows.

"Go away," a voice muttered peevishly from the bed. Danielle wasvisible only as a small curled mound, just the tip of her wheat-goldhead appearing above the coverlet.

"What is it, Danny? Are you ill?" He crossed anxiously to the bed.

"No. Go away. I just want to be alone," the same voice grumbled crossly.

Justin pulled the