The Happy Marriage of Rosannah Winthrop (Completed)

Ch 11 - Withdrawal

Copyright to VedaPettigrew

Rosannah unconsciously pressed a hand to her stomach as she flipped a page. After another page she realised why. She was hungry. Startled by the revelation she looked at the clock to see the lunch hour was already upon her. The rest of the morning had slipped away and she had not even noticed.

She opened her locket and looked upon the painting of Henry, tracing a fingertip over the small likeness. Why had he not returned, surely he could not still be with the doctor?

She looked out at the garden, blooming with colour as new blossoms and flowers fought for space. She would get dressed and go outside to eat lunch, inviting Henry to join her. Perhaps his countenance would ease in the near perfection of a gloriously sunny day, perhaps he would hurt a little less once he was reminded how she did not let the suffering at her mother's hand affect her.

A short while later, after Maisie had helped dress her and pin up her hair, she made her way downstairs. Going straight to her husband's study she was surprised to find it empty. She saw evidence of his presence though. Scrunched balls of paper littered the floor, she wondered at the waste of such a precious commodity, but would not betray him again by reading what he had been so desperately trying to put on paper.

His tumbler sat by his blotting pad, still showing traces of drink in the bottom. She sniffed it, brandy, he must be very upset to have started so early. But she knew that already, it was no surprise.

The cravat he wore this morning was now rumpled on the floor before the fireplace. She went over and picked it up, breathing in the delicious scent of her husband that always made her pulse skip. He must have ripped it off and tossed it here, she pictured him striding up and down this rug. Did he bring the doctor in here? Or was it after he had left?

Standing she gazed about the room, trying to find any other clue. The blotting pad had slashes across it, he had certainly been fierce with his pen as he wrote. But apart from that, there was nothing.

And part of the nothing was a clue, for she did not see The Hatpin. Hoping it had left the house completely, she headed out towards the Gold Room, she would pull the bell and ask Jameson where he was. But the very same met her in the hallway.

"Your Grace? Are you well enough to be out of bed?" he frowned at her, worry behind his eyes.

"Jameson, just the man I was after. I am well, do not concern yourself. The weather has proven too great a temptation, I have been lured to the gardens," she answered. "Do you know where His Grace is? I would like him to join me for luncheon."

"I'm sorry Your Grace, he has gone out." The butler's face was impassive.

"Oh," she bit her lip, "Do you know when he will return?"

"No, I'm sorry Your Grace, I do not." His brow raised alarmingly, as if he would be shot before betraying his master's secrets. She stifled a smile at the same time a pang of anxiety shot through her. Why would Henry go out? It was all she could do to remember to return to Jameson as a sick feeling settled low in her stomach.

"No trouble," she spoke lightly, "Will you please ask Mrs Swift to meet me in the gardens?"

He bowed his head and she walked towards the ladies conservatory her husband had given her.

As she wandered through the stunning array of shrubbery and flora her thoughts tumbled. He said he would return to her shortly, how could he leave without saying anything, surely he would know the ache it would cause?

Where he had gone was also a worry. She imagined him racing to her father's townhouse in a fury and challenging her parents to account for their actions. Bringing them to heel with a verbal lashing would not concern her, but the thought of violence did. He might challenge her father to a duel.