Lily thought of the way Edward had kissed her. That was bliss. “Is it better than kissing?” she asked.
“Oh, yes.” Emm blushed rosily. It made Lily eager to find out for herself.
Emm also gave Lily some more general advice about being married, explaining that it had taken her and Cal a while, a lot of patience and a good deal of compromise before they even began to be happy together. “We had quite a few quarrels at the beginning. Your brother is, as you know, terribly pigheaded, and I, well, I must admit I’m rather stubborn too.”
They both laughed.
“And don’t expect Mr. Galbraith to understand how you’re feeling—men usually need to have things explained to them.”
Lily soaked up all the advice, feeling rather proud that Emm was talking to her woman to woman, instead of to the baby of the family. Emm had been her teacher once, but now they were like sisters.
“You know I have reservations about this marriage of yours, Lily dearest, but there is a time to let doubts go. I wish you all the best with it. There will be difficulties and misunderstandings—I don’t believe it’s possible to have a marriage without them. But if you care for your husband—and I think you do—you must be prepared to work, and to change some of your ideas and beliefs, in order to achieve happiness.” She laughed. “Don’t look so worried, my dear; I have every faith in you, and in your common sense and tenacity. A happy marriage is a creation of two individuals, not an arrangement brokered by two families. Make up your mind to be happy, and work to make it so.”
It was good, if daunting, advice. And it was starting to come home to Lily that spending a few days with Edward in a carriage and a few hours here and there under the scrutiny of society was a long way from being married to him.
What did she really know of him, after all? People had so many different sides to them. Would he feel, as those ladies at the literary society had said, trapped into marriage by her? She looked at Emm. “And if I can’t make it so?”
“Then you must take your happiness where you find it, in friendship, in family and—with God’s blessing—with your children. When I married your brother, I expected my whole happiness to reside in the friendship of you girls, and in any children I might have.” She laid her hand on her belly and gave Lily a misty smile. “I expected a thimbleful of happiness, and instead I found an ocean. I wish the same for you, my dearest girl.”
Lily came away from their talk full of thought, and resolving that she would do her utmost to make her marriage a happy one. Thinking about Edward, recalling their kisses, and reflecting that the marriage bed was supposed to bring even greater bliss, she was determined to achieve if not an ocean, at least a lake of happiness. Even a pond.
• • •
Two days before the wedding, Aunt Agatha announced she was taking Lily for a drive in the park—alone. “Why me?” Lily muttered as she put on her smartest pelisse. “She just tries to peck me to pieces.”
“Not anymore.” Rose handed her her gloves and bonnet. “As far as she’s concerned, you agreed to marry Galbraith in the teeth of opposition from the rest of us, which makes you her current pet. It won’t last, so enjoy it while you can.”
“She probably wants to horrify you with gory tales of the wedding night,” George said with a grin. In a very creditable imitation of Aunt Agatha’s precise tones, she said, “Men are animals, gel, so close your eyes, open your legs and conceive a son. Then the nasty business and your duty as a wife is done. I highly recommend the state of widowhood.”
Lily was still laughing as she went downstairs. As Aunt Agatha’s elegant barouche drew away from the house, the old lady said, “We shall talk once we get to the park.”
They sat side by side in silence as the carriage wended its way through the busy London traffic. The minute the carriage passed through the gates of Hyde Park, Aunt Agatha turned to her. “I’ll come straight to the point. I assume Emmaline has explained your duties on your wedding night?”
Blushing, Lily said that Emm had.
“It is an unpleasantness we must all endure, and the best I can say of it is that it is quickly over. Galbraith should know his business, at least.” Aunt Agatha gave her a sideways glance and sniffed. “I suppose Emmaline filled your head with nonsense about love—and quite forgot to instruct you in all the other duties—”
“It wasn’t nonsen—”
“Don’t be pert, gel—it is unbecoming. I have been married three times; you must concede that I know rather more about the institution than a sister-in-law who has not yet reached her first anniversary—there is Lady Bridlington on our right; bow to her as we pass.”
“Yes, Aunt Agatha.” Lily bowed, hoping it was to the right lady. The barouche continued on its way.
“The kind of marriage you are about to undertake, between a gentleman and a lady of the ton, has a number of unspoken but nevertheless important rules. Your first duty is, of course, to provide your husband with heirs, and a comfortable domestic situation. And not to shame or embarrass him in any way. And while we are on that subject, do not expect your husband to live in your pocket, as your brother, Ashendon, does with Emmaline. It is unfashionable and quite unseemly.”
“I don’t agr—”
“Be quiet, gel, and listen— Good afternoon, Lady Hunter, such delightful weather, I do agree— Public displays of affection such as
