The second one was a painting of a tree. A tree trunk, to be more precise. Nothing else. There was something abouthowthe tree was painted, like one could reach into the painting and feel its bark under one’s fingertips.
Watching it evoked the memory of seeing Kitt’s oak the day she’d met Miss Judy. Elizabeth vividly remembered the absolute safety and delight she’d felt with Colin and how much they had laughed and talked to each other. That day and everything that happened on it used to have such a special place in her heart. She missed all of it, but the sense of safety his deception had robbed her of, most of all.
She sighed, and Colin turned to look at her.
“What is it?”
Unwilling to tell him the truth, she instead asked, “Are these new?”
Talbot followed the direction of her chin nudge. “Yes, and they’re both by the same artist. One is called The Traveller, I’m certain you can guess which one that is.”
Lizzie didn’t smile at his joke. “What’s the other one called?”
“Study of the Trunk of an Elm Tree. How boring,” he was taking great care to appear nonchalant, but there was something odd about him tonight, a tension that she couldn’t quite decipher.
Elizabeth wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck in her throat. She thought about how both the man and the tree werealone.
“Shall we read?” Colin asked, holding up a book with the wordsOrganonon the cover, and Lizzie nodded.
He handed her a book,Harrington, and they both pretended to read for a while, Elizabeth more successfully than Colin. He kept glancing at her with what could only be described aslonging.
When the clock struck midnight, he politely wished her a good night, and they retired to their separate rooms. It took Elizabeth hours to fall asleep.
*
The next morning, she was still disquieted by his demeanour when she sat down to breakfast with her mother, who, in the course of the last month, had slowly, almost unnoticeably, becomemamanagain. Talbot’s usual breakfast hour had come and gone, and he still hadn’t joined them.
How odd,Elizabeth thought.
“Where is His Grace this morning?” Miss Williams asked her.
“I don’t know and I do not wish to know,” Elizabeth said haughtily to cover up the dread she was feeling deep in her stomach.
Perhaps he finally gave up and left, and last night was his goodbye,she thought apprehensively, and it felt like someone was singeing her skin with hot curling tongs.
She’d been under the impression her husband was about to tell her something several times last night, but whenever she’d looked at him, he’d pressed his lips together as if he was trying to keep the words in.
That coward!She fumed. The anger felt better than the helpless despair, so she held onto it with all her might.Instead of speaking to me, he just… left?
“Perhaps he is unwell?” Catherine tried again, and Lizzie shrugged.
I’m glad he’s gone,she tried consoling herself. I never even wanted him here, him and his stupid philosophy books. It will be much easier for both of us to live our separate lives, finally!
She exchanged a surprised glance with her mother when they heard voices and a commotion in the hallway, and then the morning room door flew open and Doctor Cooper burst in,followed by Mr Brandon and Pratt, who were carrying her bleeding husband between them while poor Mister Ed was holding his legs.
Both Elizabeth and Miss Catherine jumped up. Lizzie’s mother held a hand over her mouth and looked unwell. Elizabeth wanted to smile.
Here he is! He didn’t leave me!She exhaled in relief.
“What happened?” Lizzie asked.
“He was injured,” Doctor Cooper said, looking around the room, and Lizzie wanted to scream that the blood had told her as much, but she stopped herself.
Instead, she impatiently pulled the tablecloth (together with all the food and cutlery) from the breakfast table, threw it all to the ground, and said, “Here.”
She then approached the bell pull and rang for Susan, making a note to herself to apologise for the mess she’d made.
When they finished setting her husband down on the table, she asked, “How did he get hurt?”
