Chapter Nine
September 15, 1818
John whistled as he and Caroline strolled through the village. They’d taken the outing to get away from Hadleigh Hall and also so that he could pick up a few gifts for her while they peered into shop windows.
However, his wife was apparently in a fragile mood, and she’d been exceedingly quiet up to this point.
“I must tell you how proud I am to have you on my arm,” he mentioned as they’d paused at a dressmaker’s window. “You’re quite lovely in that shade of blue.” The dress she’d chosen to wear today was of robin’s egg blue and brought out the blue in her stormy eyes.
Caroline frowned. She huffed. “It is merely a dress.”
Obviously, she wasn’t in any sort of mood for compliments. “Shall I tell you some of the more ribald jokes I learned while in the navy?” As curious as she was regarding life, they would no doubt make her blush and laugh.
“No, thank you.” She didn’t look at him. Instead, she scowled at the gown hanging in the shop window. The peridot satin of the frock wasn’t glorious enough for her, but if she desired it, he would snap it up.
He tugged on her hand. “Come inside with me.”
“Why?” Finally, she turned those blue-gray eyes on him. Anger fought with despair in those mysterious depths, but why?
“I wish to buy you a gown, for I know how much you adore fancy dresses and pretty things.” The image in his mind’s eye of her in that sparkling pale gown she’d worn shortly before they’d married shimmered. Indeed, she was a woman who made clothing look spectacular.
“No.”
That was it. A no. She hadn’t offered an explanation or further commentary. Something was definitely amiss. This was the first time he’d come into contact with her stubborn streak. How interesting and another piece of the puzzle regarding his wife. “Consider it a wedding gift. From me to you.”
She yanked her hand from his. “I need one don’t.”
Ah, she was upset. Caroline’s words were jumbled or out of order more often when she was battling emotions. “I want to do this. For you. Because you’re my wife and you deserve to be given things with no expectations.” Perhaps afterward, they could find a quiet spot in the village to talk.
A huff of annoyance came from her. The glint in her eye gave him pause, and when she spoke, it was deliberate, which meant she didn’t want her speech out of order. “If you wish for a gown so badly, Mr. Butler, then you go in and find one.”
Well, she certainly had a backbone. John bit back the urge to grin lest she think he made jest of her. This was also a breakthrough, for she was finally relaxed enough in his company that she felt comfortable to show every side of herself over and above the politeness. “I truly only wish to offer you a gift, for I know how much you adore pretty things.”
She merely blinked at him.
“All right.” His shoulders drooped. “Will you wait for me here?”
“Yes.” Caroline held up her reticule. “I have my sketchbook.”
What he really wished to do was bundle her into his arms, hold her close and tell her that everything would be all right, that he would try to vanquish every demon that threatened her, even if it resided in her mind. The challenges she faced were more than simply removing her from the smothering clutches of her family, but if he could, he’d find the help she needed.
His detour into the dressmaker’s shop lasted perhaps all of a half-hour, but the result was glorious. He didn’t know much about women’s clothing; he only knew that he desperately wanted to see Caroline in the silver satin gown. The sheer overskirt featured tiny spangles that sparkled each time the fabric moved, and some of them were shaped like crescent moons. It would pair nicely with her enamel pendant and perhaps she would smile at him as she’d done the day he’d coaxed her into the duck pond.
The dressmaker had spent a few minutes observing Caroline through the window to gauge her measurements and then finally proclaimed that she had what she needed, promising to see the gown delivered to Hadleigh Hall in a few days.
Once John joined his wife outside once more, she’d finished the sketch she worked on. He peered over her shoulder and frowned. Caroline had depicted herself on the page with her hair down and flowing, but instead of curls, the tresses had been portrayed as dozens of spinning storms. As was the skirting of the formal gown she wore in the drawing, spinning, spiraling storms. A tiara rested atop her head, the crescent moon pendant at her collarbones, but the expression she’d sketched portrayed deep disappointment and grief.
Why? What had occurred between the day at the pond when they’d shared that heated kiss and she’d looked at him as if he’d stepped from the pages of a storybook to now?
Gently, he touched her arm, hoping not to startle her. “The gown I purchased will arrive at the hall in a few days.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Caroline closed the book and then stuffed it and her pencil into the reticule. “I don’t need another gown.”
“Perhaps not, but the purpose of gift-giving is to make another person happy because they didn’t need whatever is being offered.” He glanced at her bulging bag. “Why are you drawing yourself wrapped up in storms?”
She shrugged. “It is how I feel.”
Fair enough, but there was something new there, a certain hopeless despair that hadn’t been part of her mindset before. Not knowing what else to do while she was in such a mood, John offered her his arm. A sigh of relief left his throat when she slipped her fingers into his crooked elbow. As he led her along the street toward the village square, he racked his brain for a new topic of conversation. “Uh, Brand should arrive at Hadleigh Hall tomorrow.” And if his business ventures were successful, they would spell good things for the shipping outfit, which meant John had a chance for a greater income to keep Caroline in style.