He was looking at her in astonishment, as well he might after such a confused speech. “Do you mean to tell me that you carried on like that because you wanted to make it up between me and Nev?”
She nodded, conscious of how foolish she must look.
“Does Nev know that?”
She shook her head. “He would only say I had no right to act as I did. It would seem like asking to be thanked for a piece of impertinence.”
Mr. Garrett seemed bereft of speech.
“I really am sorry for your part in this. I did not think he would be so”-she searched for a word that would not be disloyal-“constant in his determination.”
Mr. Garrett sighed. “When Nev does a thing, he does it with his whole heart. He does not know a middle road between Spartan restraint and hedonism.”
“But moderation in all things is the most rational mode of existence.”
He said something in a language she did not recognize, and laughed rather unhappily. “I studied Greek, and I agree with you. But Nev prefers Latin, and besides, one cannot always be rational.” After that they were more in charity.
In the weeks that followed, Penelope found herself spending more and more time in the little office going through the books and drawing up budgets and plans. Things seemed manageable there. They were making progress, and there were no tenants or hungry children or husbands around to confuse her. One day she and Mr. Garrett were in the middle of reading about Coke’s introduction of Southdown sheep when it was time for dinner. Penelope could not quite bear to exchange the comfortable amity of business for sitting awkwardly with Nev, wondering what he was thinking and if his hand would brush hers when he reached for the salt. Mr. Garrett raised his eyebrows when she rang for a tray, but he didn’t send her away.
Nev did not say anything that night about missing her at dinner; she was drearily conscious that she had partly stayed away in hopes that he would, and that she had got what she deserved. She worked through dinner a second time, and a third; once Lady Louisa joined her and Mr. Garrett. Penelope was glad of it; she did not think Nev’s sister was happy to be always in Lady Bedlow’s company. And Penelope liked hearing Mr. Garrett and her sister-in-law talk of their childhoods. Nev, it was plain, had been a charming child and a devoted brother.
Nev was bored. Penelope never had time for him anymore now that Percy was here. The woman he had married to save Loweston and the friend he had given up for the same reason were closeted in that office at all hours, going over figures and making lists and doing all the things that came so naturally to them and only gave him a headache. He could not help feeling that his noble sacrifices in the name of duty were not appreciated and was well aware of how petty that was.
He missed her, but it did not occur to him to be jealous until his mother dropped in one morning. After she had eaten a large quantity of brioche, complained about the inferior quality of her current cook, and boasted that Sir Jasper had called no less than twice last week and paid Louisa a flattering amount of attention, she finally thought to ask after Penelope.
“She is doing very well,” Nev said. “I’ll ask her to join us if you like. She is probably with Percy in his office; they are always working. I never see her anymore.”
Lady Bedlow smiled at him. “No, it is nice to have you all to myself.”
He smiled back, warmed that there was someone who was glad of his company, and that was when she said it:
“I suppose it is only natural that Penelope should feel more comfortable with Percy-he is a gentleman, of course, but still he is so much nearer her own class.”
Nev had told himself that Penelope stayed away from dinner because she was busy. He had not thought-had not allowed himself to think-that perhaps she had stayed away because she preferred Percy’s company to his. Was his mother right? He remembered all the awkwardness and difficulties and compromises that had plagued his and Percy’s friendship; did Penelope feel free of all that with Percy? Did she share an instinctive understanding with him that she could never have with Nev?
He did not think for a moment that Penelope would betray him. She was too honest-and, he admitted, too puritanical-for that. He did not even think she would be consciously disloyal in her thoughts. But she’d never been in love, he was sure; if she had loved Edward she would never have married Nev. And she had been so ignorant of passion and surprised by her own desire. It was plain enough that Nev himself was not the sort of man she could wholeheartedly admire. She might not recognize the symptoms.
“Is something wrong, Nate?” Lady Bedlow asked. “You look as if you just swallowed a toad.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” He took a hasty gulp of tea and choked.
She smiled mischievously. “Of course, I know exactly what you look like when you’ve swallowed a toad. Do you remember? You were six, and it was a very small toad…”
When his mother had taken her leave, Nev rode to the home farm and spent the rest of the day working in the fields alongside the men. After eight hours of hard labor in the hot sun, he felt sore but sated, drained of anger and jealousy by exhaustion. He was almost content-although his satisfaction was marred by the sight of the men’s dinner. A little oat bread and water was all most of them had. Nev, eating bread and bacon and beer with the foreman, had felt positively decadent.
Still, they had seemed friendlier than before. He knew their names now, and the harvest, while not abundant, was respectable.
Nev was so tired that he hardly even missed Penelope. So tired that when he came home, he was able to take off his clothes and fall into bed without looking at the door between their rooms more than, oh, two or three hundred times.
So tired that he thought for certain she would be in Percy’s office for hours already by the time he made it to the breakfast room in the morning, wincing all the way down the stairs and so hungry he hadn’t even bothered to bathe first. Evidently fencing and boxing took a different, lesser, set of muscles than laboring with heavy tools all day.
But there she was, looking fresh and anxious and maybe as if she’d lingered in the breakfast room in the hopes of seeing him. His heart clenched. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. Did-did you sleep well?” She didn’t look at him when she asked, and he felt suddenly guilty about not going to her room last night.
“Like the dead. And you?”
Her face fell; perhaps that hadn’t been the most tactful response. “Oh, tolerably well. You look sunburned. Does it hurt?”
He shrugged, realizing why his face felt hot as fire. Wonderful. She looked fresh as a daisy and he was lobster red and smelled like manure.
She smiled weakly. “I’ve some good news. My mother’s offered to buy us new furniture.”
So that was why she’d been waiting for him. She needed to talk business, and her parents wanted to give them something.
Nev had felt low enough, borrowing money from his father-in-law two weeks after the wedding. Worse, Penelope had done the asking; Nev had only been able to thank Mr. Brown inarticulately later and had felt the full force of his father-in-law’s disapproval. And now this-Penelope might be kind and not reproach him, but the Browns must know damn well what a poor bargain she had made. He wanted so badly to make a go of this, to make a home for Penelope out of his own money, rents he had collected and corn he had sold. He wanted to be what she needed, and he wasn’t.
She saw his face. “We needn’t accept it if you’d rather not! I assure you, I never asked them-I only told Mama how Lady Bedlow had taken a deal of the furniture with her-”
Nev closed his eyes.
“Oh, Nev,” Penelope sighed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make your family look bad-I knew Mama would think it was funny, that’s all. And when I got her reply, I thought you might like to have a new dressing table. Here, if you don’t want to, I’ll write back this instant and tell her no.” She stood up as if to suit actions to words.