An Improper Companion (4 page)

The question in his voice was clear. I spoke somehow. “Sir Leslie, I did tell Mr. Thornsby I needed a position, and that I would accept any post as a companion, even if unusual. But had I known—” My voice broke, “How could I know? It was a domestic agency!”

Sir Leslie stared at me impassively as he rang for a servant. A short time later I heard him say, “Escort Miss Wade to her chamber.”

Then, numb, I was following someone back to my room. The appalling truth of my position was becoming clear to me. I would escape. I must escape. Oh, my God, what would I do? Suppose I were with child? Did one always become pregnant? I was as ignorant as any young woman of my class on certain facts of life, though curiously knowledgeable on others.

Then I was back in my room. It was not, however, empty. Margaret stood by the sitting-room table where she had placed a tray. By the bed stood Mrs. Morgan, staring at the sheets. She turned as I entered. “Yer a virgin!” she said accusingly.

With trembling knees I walked to a chair and sat. “Not anymore,” I said lightly, blinking back tears.

“But why, child?” she demanded.

I could contain myself no longer and began to cry, my face in my hands. In the distance, I heard Mrs. Morgan dismiss Margaret. A cup of tea was forced into my hands. I shook my head in denial, but Mrs. Morgan persisted until I sipped the tea. A few sips were all I could manage before thrusting the cup away. Mrs. Morgan waited patiently. After a while, I began to talk, unable to order or halt my words. “Sir Leslie ... he ... last night ... Oh, God! I did not ... understand ... Mr. Thornsby said
unusual
... I had to find a position ... no one
told
me ... everyone said I was too young or wrong for the position, but no one
told
me...”

Mrs. Morgan spoke gently, “Yer family...?”

“I have no family,” I retorted bitterly ... “My parents are dead. I was in a school! They offered me a teaching position without pay. I felt anything would be better. But, oh God! I must get away. Mrs. Morgan, you must help me!”

I was on the verge of hysteria and Mrs. Morgan sensed this. “Stop shouting,” she commanded. Then with a sigh, “Why don’t ye simply ask Sir Leslie to send ye back to London?”

“I did. He refused.”

“My lord!” she exclaimed. “Is he mad? Ye cannot escape then, for he’ll have ye watched. But I promise ye, child, he’ll not touch ye again. I don’t understand, but I swear ye’ll be safe.”

“But I cannot remain here!” I cried.

“Child, I’ve promised I’ll protect ye. Perhaps Sir Leslie means to provide for ye and wants ye to stay here until he can,” she said.

“I don’t want his help,” I retorted. “I’ll not have it!”

“Now child, do not be a pea-goose. What would ye do? Where would ye go?” she asked reasonably. “And suppose ye are with child because of this? Ye’ll need his help. For the sake of the child.”

At the thought of a child, I began to weep anew. After a time, Mrs. Morgan left and I wept harder still. But I could not cry forever, and at last. I dried my eyes and cheeks. I could not eat, but the tea calmed me a little. I began to pace about the room. Time passed, I suppose, for Margaret brought me another tray with tea and food. I wanted to refuse it, but my body betrayed me and demanded nourishment. I felt shame that I could wish to eat so soon after ... after ...

I’d not have believed it, but I felt better for having eaten; well enough to wish to escape my room and see the castle, now that Sir Leslie had left it. From my chamber I had seen him drive away, or I’d not have dared to believe he were truly gone. Perhaps it will seem strange that I could interest myself in such a thing as a castle at such a time. But it was a means of fixing my thoughts on other than what had happened. And I would feel less trapped if I knew my way about. When Margaret returned to remove the tray, Mrs. Morgan entered with her. “Child, are ye feeling any better?” she asked.

I forced myself to nod. “Yes, Mrs. Morgan. I thought—do you think I might look about the castle?”

She smiled in reply. “That’s better. I was worried. A look about the castle will do ye good. Ye can come along with me; ye’ll see most of it then.”

I assented readily and felt a sense of relief as I heard Mrs. Morgan say to Margaret, “The sheets must be changed at once. And bolt the door to Sir Leslie’s chamber.”

I turned swiftly. “Door? To Sir Leslie’s chamber?”

“Aye,” she said sadly. “There in the corner. But ’twill be bolted and ye need not fear his intruding. Ye’ll also have a bolt on this door by nightfall. Ye’ll be safe, child.”

I stared for a moment at the curtain that hid his door. Of course there would be such a door. A way for Sir Leslie to visit his “companion.” Why had it never occurred to me the word might mean such a thing? There was much I did not know. Had he a wife? Who else lived here? How old was he? Ah, that one I could answer. Sir Leslie counted less than thirty summers, I would wager.

I followed Mrs. Morgan. The chamber next to mine was Sir Leslie’s, of course. He had no wife, Mrs. Morgan explained. He was a rake, but not the sort of man to shame a wife publicly. I see, I thought to myself, Sir Leslie has a sense of propriety. All his affairs would be discreet once he married. Such consolation to a wife! Though perhaps she would be grateful his attention were directed elsewhere.

There were other chambers in the hall, but all were closed, now. They had once been used by Sir Leslie’s family, and at the far end of the hall was the nursery. But now his parents were dead and his sisters married and elsewhere. The floor above held the guest rooms, and Mrs. Morgan explained that in the old days, with Sir Leslie’s father, the castle had often been full. These chambers were still aired regularly, for guests who might arrive. I timidly asked if I might move to one of these rooms. Mrs. Morgan hesitated. “Ye
could,
but I’d be grateful if ye waited until Sir Leslie returned. ’Tis an extra set of stairs for the servants to carry water and trays and all. And until he returns, there’s really no need, is there?”

Though I now hated my chamber, I was reluctant to cause trouble. I also sensed that in Mrs. Morgan’s eyes, my status was uncertain and perhaps could not claim a guest room. Thus, I agreed to remain where I was until Sir Leslie should return.

The servants’ quarters were at the lowest level of the castle: half belowground. I did not see these, since Mrs. Morgan hinted me away. She wished to give no additional cause for gossip or speculation. Instead, she showed me about the ground floor of the castle. There were several sitting rooms, the largest one long and drafty (as was most of the castle). The furnishings of these rooms varied, reflecting the times over which they had been accumulated. There was also a game room for the men, and near this a large library. This room overshadowed all the others for me, even the huge ballroom with its crystal chandeliers. The library was crowded with books: some on open shelves, some in glass cases, some simply on tables. The room was ideal for reading, with its many large, comfortable chairs. Beside each chair stood a small table to hold fruit or tea or other oddments as one read. A large fireplace would keep the room cosy in winter, for the many bookshelves would prevent any draft. But dominating the room was a desk littered with books and papers. Clearly this belonged to Sir Leslie. I shuddered and wondered if I could be comfortable in a room so ruled by his effects. But I ! determined to try, for if I could not even face this room, how. should I face Sir Leslie? And face him I must, for there had to be a reckoning. Accordingly, I asked Mrs. Morgan if I might spend the rest of the day here.

“Of course,” she replied, “Sir Leslie’s given orders yer to be allowed wherever ye wish about the castle and grounds so long as we’re certain yer not trying to run away.”

It was more than I had expected of Sir Leslie, yet I was angry that he had given orders to have me watched. Perhaps he hopes, I thought bitterly, I shall become so afraid and unhappy that I shall kill myself and the problem cease to exist for him. Well, he should not find me so craven. I chose a book and, tucking my feet under me, curled up in a chair.

Thus began my imprisonment at Sir Leslie’s castle, for that was how I thought of it. I was treated kindly, but nevertheless, I was a prisoner. If I went for a walk, someone must accompany me. And at night my bedchamber door was bolted shut. True, it was I who bolted the door, yet this did not make me less a prisoner. For as long as I felt the need to bolt my doors, I could not call myself free. I spent much of my time in the library and walking about the estate. There was a garden which, had Sir Leslie cared about such things, might have brightened the castle in spring and summer. There were fields, and some distance from the castle, a copse of trees beside a stream. But the nearest of dwellings were well away from the castle and it seemed the servants had orders to keep me out of sight of strangers. As the days passed I grew calmer and firmer in my resolve to face Sir Leslie as soon as he might return. And yet, when, on the ninth day, I saw his phaeton approaching, I fled to my chamber and bolted the doors. It was a hen-witted notion, of course, since he must inevitably find me there. Too late I realised my error.

Chapter 3

From my chamber, I heard Sir Leslie’s muffled voice shouting orders. Then silence. I waited, my heart pounding, for a summons I dreaded yet was not certain would come. After some time, there was a knock at my door. “Yes,” I called, “who is it?”

“Margaret, ma’am. Sir Leslie wishes to speak with you in the library.”

“All—all right. Tell Sir Leslie I shall be down in a moment,” I replied, not at all sure I would be.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am. Sir Leslie said I was to bring you,” she answered, as nervous as I.

So, the matter was not to be evaded any longer. Taking a deep breath, I unbolted the door to the hallway. “I’m ready,” I said.

“Your hair, ma’am?” Margaret suggested.

I stepped back to look at the mirror. She was quite right, my hair was disarrayed. I retightened the knot at the top of my head and pinned the few stray strands of hair. Then I was as ready as I could be and we began the long walk to the library. Margaret opened the library doors and held them for me. Once I was inside, however, they closed behind me and I was alone with Sir Leslie. I advanced with as much dignity as I could muster to his desk. He stared at me for some time before he said, “Please sit down, Miss Wade.”

“I would rather stand,” I replied.

Carefully, he examined me from head to foot. “Miss Wade, I wish to, discuss with you the event that has occurred and certain steps I have taken. I cannot do so if you remain standing.”

I sat. Such was the force of his voice. He continued to regard me warily. “Are you well?” he asked. “Have you any complaints about your treatment while I was away?”

“As well as I can be in the circumstances,” I said coldly. “The only complaint I have is that I have been kept a prisoner here.”

He smiled. “So you would have run away? To where? To whom?”

Stung, I retorted, “I might at least have had the choice!”

The smile left his face. “I am afraid you could not. I wronged you, this I freely admit. And now I’ve a responsibility for you. Had I allowed you to run away, you might have been in worse trouble. Incidentally, I have spoken to Mr. Thornsby. Such an incident will not occur again through his agency.”

“Marvelous!” I muttered.

“What did you say?” Sir Leslie asked.

“Nothing,” I replied sullenly. “Please continue. You were explaining that you feel a responsibility for me.”

Angrily he retorted, “I have expended a great deal of effort on your behalf this week, Miss Wade. And I have arrived at the only possible solution. But before I tell it to you, you might consider the fact that this is not entirely my fault. Had you bothered to demand a clear explanation of the duties of the post you were to occupy, all this might have been avoided!”

“And if you were not so debauched as to have women sent up for your private amusement—”

“Enough!” Sir Leslie’s voice cut through mine as sharply as a sword. Then, with an obvious effort to control himself, he continued, “I have brought a trunk of clothes for you from Mademoiselle Suzette. She is sending others. I have also arranged for a personal maid for you. She will arrive later today.”

As he paused for breath I spoke quickly, “That was very kind of you, but not necessary as I shall be leaving the castle as soon as I have packed my things.”

Sir Leslie stared at me with a curiously bleak expression. “I am afraid not, Miss Wade. In about an hour, you will be married to me.”

I stared at him incredulously. “But you—there’s been no time to post the banns.”

“I procured a special license in London.”

Angrily I jumped to my feet. “Well, it don’t signify, for I shan’t marry you!”

Now he stood, over a head taller than me. “You will, for you have no choice.”

“But why? You can’t possibly wish to marry me!” I protested.

“I’ve no choice either. You have no one to look after you. You cannot find another position: no one would hire you knowing you’ve been here. And even could you conceal that fact, it would be impossible for you to find a respectable position without references. But none of these matter so much as the fact that I am not in the habit of ravishing young women. And above all, not respectable young women. I’ve no choice. I must marry you.”

“Ah, but I’m not respectable,” I said eagerly. “I am ... my parents were not married. So you see, you need not marry me.”

Sir Leslie spoke slowly and deliberately. “I have spoken with Mrs. Gilwen and I am fully aware of all particulars of your background. I also have your ...
guardian’s
permission to marry you. I intend to do so, and I usually have my way.”

For a moment I was too stunned to speak. But there was too much at stake and I could not let matters rest so. I managed to choke out, “You cannot imagine, surely, that I would ever accept you as my husband! Or—or welcome you to my bed! I’ll run away first. I think I would even kill myself first!”

I was breathing heavily and feeling on the verge of hysteria. Sir Leslie replied contemptuously, “Spare me the Cheltenham tragedies, Miss Wade! I am marrying you to give you my name and protect your reputation. That is all I intend. I might have wished for heirs, but that is irrelevant now. I do not intend to force my attentions on you. We will, of course, have separate rooms. If you wish, your maid may even sleep in your room as an added protection. Though that would no doubt give rise to gossip. You will have an ample allowance, and if it should prove insufficient I will increase it. Should you take a fancy to some man, I will not interfere provided you conduct the affair discreetly. I have already taken steps to ensure that none of the servants gossip outside this castle and I think we shall be all right. Is that clear?”

I stared at him. “Perfectly clear. A marriage in appearance only. You must have windmills in your head! I refuse. Of what benefit is it to save my reputation if I am riveted to you?”

He flushed. “You will have every freedom except marriage to someone else. And after ... after ... you are not marriageable anyway. You will have security and be well placed in the
ton.
I will not inflict myself on you more than is absolutely necessary. After a year or two, we may contrive to rarely find ourselves in the same place together. I have a house in London that will be at your disposal.”

“I see. That’s all very well but what are you going to do the next time this happens? You won’t be able to marry the poor girl.”

“Damn you, shut up!” he shouted. I backed away as he came toward me. “There will not be a next time. If I have any affairs, they will be discreetly conducted with women whom I choose personally and who are quite willing. I assure you that not everyone finds me abhorrent.”

“Not everyone knows you as well as I do,” I said sweetly.

He stood still. “You don’t know me at all. No, don’t say it. You—”

I do not know what he was about to add, for at that moment someone knocked. “Yes, who is it?” Sir Leslie called, without taking his eyes from my face.

“The vicar, Sir Leslie,” Mrs. Morgan called.

“Show him in,” Sir Leslie replied.

As the doors opened I ran to Mrs. Morgan. “Will you explain to Sir Leslie that I cannot marry him?” I said.

“Now child,” she said soothingly, “ye must marry him. ’Tis a good marriage. Why, else ye could not marry at all, and less marry as well.”

I was stunned by her defection. The vicar was already standing by the desk and now Mrs. Morgan and another servant (Sir Leslie’s valet, I later learned) shepherded me to Sir Leslie’s side. The vicar regarded me kindly as he began the marriage service. I held quiet until it came to be time for my response. “I will not,” I said calmly and clearly.

I felt Sir Leslie about to speak, but the vicar forestalled him. “Child,” he said gently, “is it true that you’re not a virgin; that Sir Leslie ravished you?”

I nodded. He gave me a pitying smile. “The bride assents,” he said and continued with the service.

Shocked, I could not protest. I did not hear the rest of the words of the service and scarcely felt the ring being placed on my finger. Then I was signing something. It did not matter. There was nothing I could do. I should never be free. Then I was alone in the library with the vicar. “My dear Heather,” he said, “You must accept this marriage. You are very, very lucky. Sir Leslie is an honourable man. I know you have had a shock and this is not the best way to begin a marriage. But others have started worse and been happy. Accept Sir Leslie and your marriage. In time, too, children will help to ease matters. In the joys of motherhood you will find—”

“Motherhood? Children?” I repeated. Then angrily, I said, “No! No children. Sir Leslie promised. I won’t! I won’t!”

“Calm yourself, child,” he said hastily. “Of course there is no need to consider such things now. But in time—”

“Go away,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Go away? But—”

“Please?” I said. “Please? I need to be alone.”

Worried, he rang for a servant. Sir Leslie appeared at the doorway. I heard him say, “Take her to her room.”

A hand guided my elbow as, dazed, I returned to my chamber. Inside, I threw myself on the bed and wept. Of all the fantasies I had ever had of my marriage, none approached the actual event. I had always assumed I would marry for love or at the very least, a man for whom I felt the proper regard. But this! I was truly trapped now. Sir Leslie was young and I could not even hope my marriage would be ended by his early death. I felt that fate had been unfair to me. I could only console myself that my tormentor, Sir Leslie, was no happier than I.

I had ceased to cry and lay face upward on the bed when someone knocked. “Go away!” I called.

“Ma’am, it’s your new abigail,” Margaret’s voice replied.

“I don’t wish an abigail!” I retorted.

The voice that spoke next surprised me. “It’s Ellen, Miss Wade. I mean, Lady Kinwell.”

I jumped to my feet and hurried to unbolt the door. Mademoiselle Suzette had promised to aid me, and Ellen I looked upon as a friend. As I opened the door I noticed Margaret regarding me strangely. No doubt she believed me slightly mad. Well, perhaps I was. But could anyone wonder at this?

I shut and bolted the door behind Ellen, “How? Why?” I asked. “Sit down.”

“Well,” Ellen began dramatically, “Sir Leslie came into Mademoiselle’s establishment and demanded to speak with her
at once.
She said to deny her, but he went from one fitting room to another until he found her. Then, well! They went to her office and you could hear his voice
all over
the place, cutting up stiff over
something.
Then Mademoiselle called
me
into her office. Sir Leslie was that angry! I thought he would shout at me. But he was very polite. ‘Did you speak with Miss Wade when she was fitted here?’ he asked.

“Well! I confess I had forgotten your name. ‘The
companion
for Sir Leslie,’ Mademoiselle said.

“Well, then of course I knew who he meant. ‘Well, sir,’ I replied, ‘a little, though of course I know well enough not to tattle.’

“He glanced at Mademoiselle, but spoke to me. ‘Did Miss Wade speak about her position? Did she seem eager to begin her work?’

“ ‘I wouldn’t know, sir,’ I said, ‘I didn’t wish to gossip. Only ...’

“ ‘Only what?’ he cried angrily.

“ ‘Well, sir, she seemed desperate for any position and fainted once because she had not eaten since the night before. And she had almost no possessions and slept with the seamstresses that night. But she was well bred, sir, one could see that.”

“Well! My answer only made him angrier. Mademoiselle dismissed me after warning me to keep my tongue between my teeth. Then Sir Leslie left. Well, of course I wondered what had happened. I tried to ask Mademoiselle, but she said to be quiet, to forget you. Well! Imagine my surprise when Sir Leslie came back to see Mademoiselle yesterday and asked to speak with me again. ‘Ellen,’ he said, ‘do you know how to dress hair?’

“ ‘Yes, sir,’ I said.

“ ‘How would you like to be my wife’s abigail?’ he asked me. ‘You would be well paid and you already know her. Miss Wade is to marry me tomorrow.’

“Well! I was that surprised! Me, an abigail? Of course I accepted. And you, Lady Kinwell! So then he said I would have to leave at once. As soon as I said I could, he turned to Mademoiselle and said, ‘I shall take with me the clothes you have ready. The rest you will send as soon as possible.’ “Well! Mademoiselle had said there was a rush order, but I never guessed it was for you. Then
he
left and
she
gave me a message for
you.
She said she believes all will be well now, but to tell you that if you are dreadfully unhappy, to go and talk with her when Sir Leslie brings you to London. It was her notion Sir Leslie should take me as your abigail. Said you’d like someone your own age. And warned me to help you. Well of course I will! But tell me. Are you truly Lady Kinwell? How did it happen?”

I did not answer for a moment, for I needed time to absorb all that Ellen had told me. And I needed time to determine how to answer her. I was not eager to speak of the shameful thing that had happened. At last I compromised between truth and untruth... “Yes, Ellen, I am truly Sir Leslie’s wife. We were married this afternoon. I ... he felt he had compromised me and he insisted upon our marriage. He went to London to procure a special license.”

“Lor’!” she cooed. “And have you a
tendre
for him? Is it monstrous exciting to be Lady Kinwell?”

Distaste swept over me. Yet what had happened could not be undone and I must not gossip with the servants else my position would be even more unbearable. “There are no words to tell what I feel,” I answered truthfully. “I am tired, Ellen. Will you please ring for tea?”

She nodded. “Of course, my lady.” Then she hesitated, “You will not be taking tea with Sir Leslie?”

I closed my eyes. Of course it must all begin sometime. But I was not yet ready to face him. “No, Ellen. There are ... certain matters he must see to this afternoon.”

“Very well, my lady.” She nodded and rang for Margaret.

I stared out the window as she gave the necessary orders. The whole world seemed mad. I was leg-shackled to a man I hated and forced to pretend I did not. I was not so goosish as to believe I could do other than pretend our marriage was a normal one. Any other behaviour could only damage my reputation. If this farce could be successfully acted, then in time I might expect more freedom. And acceptance in the
ton.
I knew that I was not the only young woman to be forced into an unwelcome marriage. Yet this did not lessen my resentment or hatred for Sir Leslie. Publicly I might be a dutiful wife, but in private he should know precisely how I felt. And each night I would be sure the door between our chambers was firmly bolted! Ellen interrupted my thoughts. “My lady, the tea is here. Shall I put away the clothes from Mademoiselle?”

“Yes, Ellen,” I replied, moving to the table. “And lay out a dress for this evening.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She was thus occupied when Mrs. Morgan entered my chamber. “My lady,” she began tentatively, “Sir Leslie asks I if a late dinner hour will disturb ye?”

I forced myself to reply calmly, “That will be perfectly acceptable, Mrs. Morgan. Please have hot water for a bath sent up an hour and a half beforehand. Oh, and Mrs. Morgan, perhaps it would be best if you show me about the castle again tomorrow. I must begin to familiarise myself with my new responsibilities, such as the management of the household.”

“Yes, my lady,” she said coldly. “I am glad to see ye are not still unreconciled!”

As she left I sighed. No doubt she thought me encroaching. Yet, for all my background, I was now Lady Kinwell. If I was to play the role, I must do so fully. Though she would not like it, Mrs. Morgan must learn to treat me as befitted my new station. I smiled. I suspected Sir Leslie would be surprised to learn I intended to join him for dinner. Well, let him be surprised. I was no Bath miss to spend the rest of my life hiding in my chamber.

I dressed with care that evening, in the gauze gown with a shawl about my shoulders, and Ellen dressed my hair in a style that made me appear older than my years. My reflection in the mirror gave me confidence, and with a deep breath, I descended to the drawing room. Sir Leslie’s back was to the doorway. He stood alone, holding a glass of some amber fluid. His head was bent and I realised he was weary and tense. Was he as afraid of this meeting as I? Boldly, I stepped into the room. “Good evening, Leslie.”

He turned quickly. “Good evening ... Heather,” he managed.

I stood quite still as his eyes swept over me, coming to rest on my face. He stared into my eyes and, instinctively, drew himself taller. “Would you like some sherry?” he asked I coolly. When I shook my head, he sipped from his glass. “Mr. Watly, the vicar, has kindly consented to join us for dinner. He was quite worried about you.”

“That I was,” said a voice behind me. “My dear, how are you?”

I turned and extended my hand to the vicar. Suppressing the distaste I felt for him, I said lightly, “How kind of you. But surely, sir, you are aware that most brides are somewhat hysterical on their wedding day?”

“My dear Heather,” he said, pressing my hand, “I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you have taken such a mature attitude. I realise this was all very sudden and did not commence auspiciously; however, I am sure all will be well.”

I merely smiled and gently withdrew my hand. Sir Leslie moved to stand beside me and I noted with a malicious pleasure the tremour in his voice as he asked, “Would you care for some sherry, sir?”

“No, no, my boy. I take a little wine with dinner, but my doctor forbids alcohol in any other form. Though I regret it, you may be sure.”

“Then may I suggest we go into dinner?” my husband said.

Before Sir Leslie could offer me his arm, I took Mr. Watly’s and gently prodded him toward the dining hall. He seemed surprised but flattered, and I counted him a tactless fool who had no understanding of people. At the head of the long table, Sir Leslie was seated with me on his left and the vicar on his right. “I am always happy to eat with Sir Leslie,” Watly confided to me, “as he always sets an excellent table.”

I smiled sweetly. “Yes, Sir Leslie never stints on his worldly pleasures.”

Sir Leslie glared, but Watly smiled indulgently. “Yes, my dear, your husband is quite open-handed. And now that he is safely married, I am sure his... er ... indiscretions will cease.”

“Oh, yes,” I replied, “Leslie has assured me he will be most discreet in the future.”

Watly stared at me uncertainly and did not reply. I might have said more, but the warning in Sir Leslie’s eyes was clear. And for my own sake, I had to choose my words with care. I lapsed into silence as the first course was served. With the second, I determined to end the uneasy quiet. “Tell me, sir,” I said, “is yours a large parish?”

Watly waved a hand airily. “Oh, no larger than I would want, and not, by far, the smallest in England. Well, but you shall see for yourself this Sunday. You will be there, in the family pew, will you not?”

I was about to reply negatively when Sir Leslie forestalled me. “Of course we shall. Perhaps you might then give a special blessing over our marriage,” he said smoothly.

“Oh, quite. Quite,” Watly replied. “An excellent notion. You will hold the customary reception?”

“Yes,” Sir Leslie replied, to my amazement, “Sunday afternoon tables will be set out on the lawn, and food and drink will be served.”

“Excellent. I shall announce it from the pulpit.”

So, it would come so soon. My first public appearance. Difficult it might be, I told myself, but far easier than would be my entrance into the
ton.
I took a bit of wine to fortify myself. I must be careful, I warned myself, I was not accustomed to the substance. Yet its warmth was welcome and I began to relax. “My education? Most recently I was at Mrs. Gilwen’s School for Young Ladies,” I answered.

“Ah, yes,” Watly said. “An excellent establishment. And Mrs. Gilwen is an excellent woman. My daughter was there several years ago. I was completely satisfied.”

“I should have been surprised if you felt otherwise,” I said.

Sir Leslie’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. Watly continued, “Of course, for sons the question is rather different.”

“Quite,” I murmured, stifling the sarcasm.

“No doubt Sir Leslie will wish to send your sons to the university, as he was.” He waved a finger at me, “You’ll find it a difficult time. Young men need to cut up a bit and that’s when they usually do so. Mothers always worry, but the boys come out right in the end. Consider Sir Leslie.”

Too late, Watly realised his gaffe. And I could not stop myself from saying, “I would rather not.”

We three stared at one another in an awful silence. Then Watly spoke hastily. “Well, well, no need to think about such things now. Time enough when...”

“When and
if
there are children,” Sir Leslie finished for him. At Watly’s startled gaze, he added, “It is not unknown for a man and wife to have no children. I prefer not to make plans for children I am not certain I shall have. After all, so far as I know, I’ve no side-slips about the countryside.”

Watly’s knife clattered as it fell. “Sir Leslie!” he exclaimed. “Really! In the presence of your bride!”

Sir Leslie spoke bitterly, “In view of recent events, I seriously doubt that aught I could say would surprise my wife.”

“Well, but still ...” he expostulated nervously, “surely common decency ... Perhaps this marriage was a mistake after all...”

“It seems a little late to think of that,” I said. “Unless there is a way, perhaps, that it might be annulled?”

“No!” Sir Leslie answered angrily. “The reasons for the marriage have not changed. You seem to have forgotten your position, Heather. An annulment would complete the process of your ruin. And may I point out that you could not request an annulment on the grounds of nonconsummation?”

I stared down at my plate just as I was sure Watly did. I felt cold and miserable. Watly’s voice did not improve matters as he said, “Quite, quite, Sir Leslie. I had forgotten. Nonetheless, I do think you might make an effort to avoid certain ... er ... matters that would disturb your wife.” His voice calmed as he commenced a speech he had surely given often. “Matrimony is not a state to be entered into lightly. It is like a seed one plants in the ground. Without careful nurturing it withers and dies. Yet even the weakest seed, if one expends sufficient effort, can grow into a sturdy plant that in time blossoms and bears fruit. When there is love, the process is somewhat easier. But no seed is without potential. All that is required is a determination on both sides to bring the seed to fruition: a successful marriage. It is not a process that follows a schedule. Sometimes success is achieved at once. In other cases it requires years or even decades. I knew a man and woman who—”

“Hated each other for years. Then, after several children, at the age of fifty, discovered contentment with each other,” I supplied wearily.

Watly gazed at me in surprise. “You know Lord and Lady William?”

I choked back laughter and stifled that which escaped me with a napkin. Sir Leslie had also covered his mouth with a napkin and appeared to be coughing. My voice was a trifle unsteady as I answered, “No, sir. But I guessed such cases were not unknown.”

Watly beamed. “So you see, my children, your position is not entirely hopeless. Others have overcome greater obstacles.”

We nodded gravely, both afraid to answer. Soon after, I eased back my chair. “Well, gentlemen, I shall leave you to your port,” I said.

They stood as I left the room. I hurried to the drawing room where, behind closed doors, I loosed my laughter. Did Mr. Watly truly exist? Surely he was the creation of some satirist. Or perhaps God simply had a sense of humour. I was I still smiling when Sir Leslie joined me. “Mr. Watly has left,” he said gravely, “I paid your respects to him and explained you had ... er ...
retired
early. He understood
perfectly.
He wished me a ... er ... successful night! He was also kind enough to offer me advice on the duties of a husband.”

He could contain himself no longer, and together we laughed heartily. Then, shaking his head, he said, “
Oh, do you know Lord and Lady William
?”

We laughed afresh and it felt good. I was young and tired of unhappiness and tears. Sir Leslie must have sensed this and felt much the same, for he said quietly, “Heather, must we hate each other? Can’t we learn to rub along together? I do not suggest more than companionship, but surely that would be more pleasant than...”