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

their marriage. She had once felt overwhelming insecurity about such a thing, could have crumbled on a breeze with the onslaught of her own recriminations, but now she had grown accustomed to feeling nothing on the subject. No joy, no anger, no nerves, no shame. She had corrected anything that could have been a flaw, offered herself as perfectly amenable and adaptable to his wishes, all to no avail.

There was nothing she could say or do to change her husband’s inclination toward her, so there was quite simply no use in attempting to. If he wished to change their situation, he must do so. Lily had done enough.

And yet…

Something about him kept her here, fixed to the place he was. She could easily have lived in London while he was at Rainford and remain at Rainford while he was in London. She could have gone to stay with Aunt Augusta and the girls without anyone thinking she was intentionally keeping apart from her husband, and likely without her husband noticing as well. But she had never had the desire to do so. Never considered being without him. Never thought of taking the step that seemed so clear, given the life they had been living.

Because it wasn’t that clear.

Perhaps, then, she did have hope after all.

But how could that be? Was she still so foolish, so naive, so filled with romantic sentimentality that she still had not completely abandoned the girlish dreams she’d once had? With all the pain and despondency she had known, did she still long for the love of the man who had asked for her hand?

She wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it.

Didn’t believe it.

“That sounds like something new.”

Lily’s fingers froze on the keys of the instrument, her heart suddenly beating in the base of her throat, of all places, at a frenzied pace that threatened to choke her.

Perhaps she should believe it, then.

Slowly, she turned on the bench to see her husband standing in the doorway to the music room, leaning against the frame as though he had never been more comfortable, his face lit with a small but clear smile.

Had she not known it was her husband, she would never have recognized him as such. Yet there he was, with the same features he had always worn and a smile she hadn’t seen in an age, looking handsome beyond expression.

It had never been disconcerting to see her husband even before he was her husband, but this…

“I got lost,” Lily admitted when no other words would come.

Thomas’s brow creased faintly, though his smile remained. “Lost? Where? When?”

The note of concern in his voice made her chest give, and, mingled with confusion as it was, made her smile. “In the song,” she explained, gesturing faintly to the piano. “I was thinking too intently, and I haven’t the faintest idea what I was playing.”

Impossibly, Thomas chuckled a very soft laugh. “Would that all of us could still be so talented when lost in our thoughts.”

Heat rushed into Lily’s cheeks, and she lowered her eyes to her hands. “Thank you.” Her heart pounded twice more, with gusto, and she glanced back up. “Do you… hear me play often? Only you said it sounded new, so I wondered…”

“Oh yes,” Thomas replied, nodding easily. “The sound carries quite marvelously from here to my study. If I ever feel confused about what day it is, I need only think back to the repertoire from your playing, and I am set back to rights.”

Lily tilted her head, now confused herself. “How would that help?”

His smile grew, seizing her chest and stomach in a tight fist. “You have a pattern. Always the same, and it rarely gets added upon or adjusted.”

“I don’t play daily,” she felt the need to point out even as her head began to ache with revelations.

“I know. But when you do, the days are in pattern.” He shrugged his shoulders, the fabric of his jacket brushing audibly against the wood. “I cannot help but notice.”

Notice.

How many times had she wished he would notice something, anything, about her? And now he was saying that he noticed the particular pattern of her playing? In hearing her music, he could find regularity in his days and notice any variations?

“Then I must have given you great confusion today,” she murmured with a note of apology that surprised her. “I don’t believe I played anything familiar just now.”

“Only the first song,” he corrected, his smile shrinking into a very slight one that was no less encouraging. “Always the same.”

“Yes, it is.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air between them somehow suspended with unspoken tension. Not tension she feared, however, but something new. Something not quite exciting but still made her curious.

She wanted to ask what he wanted, what was making him smile, what had brought him in here, why he was suddenly affable after so long, but she was afraid to ask anything of depth for fear of his retreating back into the man she had known. Part of her wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him for the pure joy of seeing warmth in him, but she was held in check by the wiser, more experienced and cautious part of her who knew all too well what would happen if her sudden resurgence of hope ventured too far.

She couldn’t lose herself to it again. Not if she wished to remain intact.

The silence continued, not with awkwardness, but with expectation. With a strange hesitation that reminded her of days past, when they had both been shy despite their years of knowing each other.

What could that mean?

“Granger,” Lily ventured softly, unable to bring herself to call him Thomas aloud.

“Would you come to London with me?” he asked at the same time.

Lily blinked once, then again as her mind spun to catch up with the skipping of her heart. “London?” she repeated. “I thought we had decided against it this Season.”

He shifted his position against the doorframe. “Would you rather