Mr. Fairclough's Inherited Bride (Secrets 0f A Victorian Household Book 3)

by Georgie Lee

  ‘There’s a problem with the English engine patent and I need to personally appeal to the holder’s better business sense to overcome it. There’s also some difficulties with my family that I have to attend to. I must leave for England immediately.’

  ‘I see.’ Mary flicked one of the prongs holding the diamond in her engagement ring with her fingernail. At least the reason he’d concocted for leaving her was far more noble than the one Preston had chosen. Given the stricken look on his face, he was anxious about his family’s welfare, more so than her father or brother had ever been about hers. Still, here she sat, waiting for one more man who she thought cared about her to turn his back on her.

  ‘I’m leaving on the first available steamship, but before I go, I want to know if you wish to be married by a Justice of the Peace and travel with me or remain here and have a church ceremony when I return?’

  Mary almost fell off the sofa. He wasn’t crying off, but offering to wed her sooner if she wanted. She thought of the beautiful wedding gown she’d ordered from the dressmaker and how she’d never get the chance to wear it to the church as she’d always dreamed, that she would lose the opportunity to have the kind of wedding that Jane had enjoyed, but if she waited for something as silly as a dress she might lose the more important aspect of a husband and the future. ‘We can wed before you leave in front of the Justice of the Peace.’

  ‘You don’t mind giving up your grand church wedding?’

  ‘I do, but I’d mind it more if I lost you to some Englishwomen desperate for a successful America husband,’ Mary offered with a forced laugh because it was no joke, but a very real concern. ‘Some nobles are willing to trade a younger daughter for a little new money.’

  ‘A little would be all they’d get from me. They have estates they can learn to better manage if they need funds. Work never hurt a man.’

  ‘Don’t say so in front of them or they’ll die of apoplexy.’

  ‘We can’t have that, especially since the Fairclough Foundation relies on donations from the wives of such men.’

  ‘The Fairclough Foundation?’ Neither Richard nor Silas spoke much about Silas’s past and Mary never thought this curious. She’d learned to despise hers and didn’t blame others for thinking very little of theirs.

  ‘My family runs a home for women who’ve fallen on hard times through various troubles. They also offer faithful servants who are too old to work but have been turned out by not-so-faithful employers a place to live. The older women help train younger women in the skills they need to earn a living for themselves and often their children.’

  Mary unconsciously touched her stomach and shivered. If she hadn’t lost the child in that awful inn, she and it might have found themselves in the gutter due to Preston’s inability to honour his promises. Given how fast he’d abandoned her, it wasn’t hard to think he might never have married her even if they’d made it to Scotland.

  ‘My mother and father started the Fairclough Foundation after my father’s beloved nanny was let go by his father without a reference and had nowhere else to turn. My father vowed never to allow something like that to happen again. Sadly, the need for such services outweighs what the Foundation can supply. I regularly send money for my mother and sisters’ upkeep so the donations they receive can be used for the Foundation. They haven’t received the money for some months.’

  ‘I see.’ No wonder Silas hadn’t been too concerned about her background. Nothing in it could shock a man who must have seen many women with stories like hers and tended to them in their darkest moments in a way her family never would have done. She could have used sympathetic people like that in her life back then, but there’d been no one, except Ruth. ‘You and your family are very generous.’

  ‘I haven’t been involved in the Foundation for many years. I greatly respect my family’s work, but I don’t share their passion for it, much to my late father’s great disappointment.’ He twisted his signet ring, regret and guilt, two feelings she knew intimately, heavy in his words.

  ‘I’m sure he’d be proud of you if he could see everything you’ve accomplished.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t be. He always looked down on men who wanted to make money. He believed it couldn’t be done without others suffering. Had he lived I might have proven him wrong, but I doubt it. Now, I’ve let my mother and sisters down with this awful debacle. I’ve written to Lady Alexandra, my father’s cousin, about the matter, but I’ve had no reply and I still don’t know the full extent of the situation.’

  She came to stand beside him as he’d come to her the day he’d proposed and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, the fine wool of his coat soft against her palm. ‘You’ll make it right, I’m sure you will.’

  * * *

  Silas stared into the fire, watching the flames leap over the top of the log. He could make this financial situation right, but he couldn’t correct the damage it must have done to his mother’s already questionable opinion of him and his pursuits. Death had ended the possibility of making things right with his father. The old guilt that had haunted him on the crossing from Liverpool to America, the one that had pricked him every night he’d spent at Richard’s working towards the kind of success his father had scorned, hit him again, but it was lighter with Mary’s soft hand on his shoulder. She didn’t call his guilt silly like some women had or try to dismiss it like the few men he’d dared to discuss it with in the early days, but listened with an understanding not even Richard had ever shown. She’d experienced regret and disappointment and how it could eat at a person no matter how high or low in the world they might be.

  ‘What is it you said to me? There is more to us than our pasts and our failings, and together we can help one another find it,’ Mary reminded him.

  He took her hand and clasped it to his chest. She looked up at him with a tenderness to take his breath away, the firelight playing in the gold wisps of hair framing her face. He’d never had his own words used against him and he silently thanked Richard for bringing them together. He didn’t want her to see the ugly rift between him and his mother or how he’d failed to live up to her expectation, but he didn’t want to face that alone either. With Mary beside him as an ally, maybe he could finally find some peace with the choice he’d made. ‘You may not get the wedding you want, but I promise we’ll host a party to celebrate our nuptials on our return that will more than make up for your loss.’

  ‘Our return?’ Her hand went stiff in his.

  ‘I want you to come to England with me.’

  * * *

  Mary forced herself to leave her hand in Silas’s and not jerk it away. He was asking her to risk facing the people she’d left behind. She was no coward, having travelled to Richard in America on nothing more than Ruth’s recommendation, spending six weeks at sea on the clipper in her cabin miserable with seasickness and no one to help her except the young Irish girl who she’d paid to take care of her. That girl had stepped off the boat and into the arms of her family, while Mary had gone to Richard not knowing what to expect. In the end, it had all worked out far better than she could have imagined, but she didn’t want to draw upon the will and courage to face her demons again. She wanted to leave them across the sea where they could do her much less harm. ‘I’d prefer to stay here and establish our home, as well as represent your interests while you’re gone.’

  ‘No, you must come. This might be my last opportunity to return to England for some time. I want you to meet my family, especially my sisters.’

  ‘I can’t risk seeing anyone I used to know and having all the old demons dragged up again.’

  ‘I doubt you’ll encounter any old acquaintances in the parts of London we’ll be in, not unless your mother has a habit of patronising charitable foundations.’

  ‘No, she does not.’ Mary had once thought her mother the most loving and wonderful person in the world, until she’d discovered just how
uncharitable she could be. She’d turned her back on her own daughter. Even a wedding ring wouldn’t rehabilitate her in her parents’ eyes and there was nothing they could do after the way they’d treated her to redeem themselves. ‘Charity isn’t a trait that my family is particularly familiar with.’

  ‘Thankfully, mine are, at least where everyone besides me is concerned. They won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.’

  Yes, she was. It was one thing to help fallen women, it was quite another to welcome one into the family. ‘What about Lady Alexandra? Who knows what she’s heard about me?’ Or what she’d say once she learned Mary was now related to her.

  ‘She rarely travels to London.’

  ‘London news travels fast.’

  ‘Given her propensity for port, she may not remember everything she’s heard, especially if the story is old.’

  ‘Stories like mine never grow old.’ Time wasn’t powerful enough to make society forget about a fallen woman. Preston might have been forgiven for his part in the affair, having endured little more than a few whispers and askance looks from matrons but, as Jane had unfortunately pointed out in one of her first letters to Mary, it hadn’t stopped him from marrying well.

  ‘You needn’t meet her if you don’t wish to, but it would mean a great deal to me for you to meet my family. Like you, I’m not entirely certain what I’ll face when I get there. I don’t know how dire their situation is.’

  Mary traced the filigree on her watch, making the chain clink against a button on her dress. Silas’s family might be suffering and he was asking for her help and support, the kind a wife pledged to give to her husband when they stood together at the altar. She couldn’t allow her fear to deny him this or make her break the wedding vows before she’d even taken them. He wanted his wife, her, with him. She couldn’t surrender her natural place beside him because of worries—if she did, it risked driving him away. He was a man of evidence and logic and if she presented him with too many reasons why she was not worthy to be with him, then he might change his mind and go to England with the promise of returning and then forget about her. She never wanted to be in that limbo again or to face another man deeming her unworthy of becoming his wife. She would be married and if it meant going to England and risking facing her past to do so, she would, no matter how much she wanted to be rid of England for good. ‘I’ll come and meet your family. I’m sure I’ll love them as much as you do.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He raised her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the bare flesh and raising a chill along the length of her arm. She wanted to slide her hand up to his cheeks and draw him in to a kiss, to taste his gratitude as much as the longing in the firm press of his fingers against her palms, but she didn’t move. She didn’t wish him to think her forward or more of a tart than her past already made her. She wasn’t a loose woman, but with him so close and already pledged to her, with his need for her beside him when he faced who knew what troubles, it was difficult to not slide into his arms and lay her head on his chest. ‘I’ll have my man arrange for the Justice of the Peace at once.’

  Good. For the sooner they were joined in a proper union, the sooner she could stop holding back or worrying about her future.

  Chapter Six

  Mary held tight to the bouquet of flowers as she stood across from Silas, the pale pink ball gown she’d acquired from the dressmaker standing in for the magnificent cream bridal gown that awaited her return and the grand party that Silas had promised. The rotund Justice of the Peace took his place of prominence before the fireplace while he recited the marriage ceremony. Mrs Parker and Richard stood as witnesses to the proceedings, Mrs Parking weeping noisily into her handkerchief. The same efficiency that Silas employed with the Baltimore Southern had been used to organise this simple marriage ceremony. Mary had been stunned when a note had arrived informing her that it would take place the next morning for they were to set sail the day after. Thankfully, the hurried packing of her trunks and the sending over of a few of her personal items to Silas’s house had kept her from thinking too much about what waited for her in England or tonight after the ceremony.

  ‘Do you, Silas Fairclough, take Lady Mary Weddell to be your lawfully wedded wife?’ The stout man with spectacles perched on the end of his round nose read from his book.

  ‘I do.’ Silas beamed at Mary, who wasn’t sure if he was besotted because they were getting married or incredibly proud of the efficiency with which he’d organised the ceremony. This was the most-respected Justice of the Peace in Baltimore, Silas having insisted that if they were going to be married in such a simple fashion then he was the most fashionable gentleman to perform the ceremony. Afterwards, they would enjoy a wedding breakfast in the dining room and then the two of them would venture to the Lord Baltimore Hotel for one night together before they set sail tomorrow. Hopefully, tonight would be a great deal less fumbling, hurried and awkward than her encounters in the stable and carriage with Preston had been and far more comfortable. The grand hotel was well appointed and more pleasant than the heaven-knew-what accommodations they’d have aboard the steamship. This time she would only have to endure a voyage of fourteen days as opposed to six weeks. She didn’t think she would make for a very pretty newlywed when she was green about the gills for so long.

  She returned her attention to the ceremony, answering when the Justice of the Peace asked her the same questions he’d asked Silas. Before she knew it, the wedding rings were exchanged and the judge announced to everyone, including the still-weeping Mrs Parker, ‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’

  Mary froze in front of Silas, not sure why she was so shocked by the idea of being kissed by her husband. As Mrs Parker had said at the ball, Mary was a woman of experience and there was nothing about this that should surprise her, but she could feel the shaking in her building when Silas stepped forward. Until this moment, she’d only enjoyed the innocent holding of hands with him and a few harmless fantasies about what this moment and a few others might be like. Now that it was real, it all seemed so much more intimate.

  Don’t be a silly chicken.

  After what she’d done with Preston, breaking the rules of society and the church in the process, this was nothing. She was a lawfully wedded woman and not even her disapproving parents could cast a sidelong glance at her because of it. She tilted her face up to Silas, inviting his kiss.

  * * *

  The curls of Mary’s blonde hair drawn back from her face brushed her shoulder where the dress ended to reveal the enticing curve of her shoulders and neck. He regretted their not having been able to stand in the church, in front of a marble altar surrounded by whitewashed walls shining as brightly as the diamond band he’d slipped on her finger. Silas had overlooked her the first few times they’d met. Today, he couldn’t take his eyes off this woman who would be closer to him than any other woman had been before. The intensity of his reaction to her startled him, for this had all begun as a sensible business proposal and in a short time it had changed into something more. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. They were warm and inviting, opening slightly to accept him. Silas stepped closer to Mary and pressed his fingers into her back, savouring the curve of her body against his. This was the closest they’d ever been to each other and they would become far closer tonight. The two of them were coming together as virtual strangers about to start their married life, partners in whatever new ventures were waiting for them. It thrilled him as much as the warm tenderness of her lips against his.

  Mrs Parker blowing her nose into her already-damp handkerchief brought Silas back to the room and he stepped away from Mary. Together, they turned to face their two guests. Not having to hold back any longer, Mrs Parker rushed at Mary and hugged her while Richard shook Silas’s hand in congratulations.

  ‘You make a beautiful bride, Mary,’ Richard said as he placed a tender kiss on each of her cheeks.
<
br />   ‘And you make a wonderful father of the bride.’

  Silas could see that she was genuinely grateful for his presence both here and in her life. Silas was, too, but he wished his sisters and mother could have been here as well as his father. He would see his mother and sisters soon enough, assuming nothing awful had befallen them or that his mother didn’t turn her back on him when he arrived on her doorstep with as little warning as when he’d left England.

  * * *

  ‘You must have a proper wedding breakfast when you return. I’ll persuade Mrs Penniman or Mrs Baxter to host one,’ Richard said as the footman cleared away the last of the salmon and buttered potatoes. ‘We’ll launch you properly into your married life.’

  ‘And you must serve a cake with layers. I hear they are quite the fashion,’ Mrs Parker added. ‘The Queen of England had one at her wedding, but of course you both probably already know that.’

  ‘A cake with layers it will be.’ Silas raised his wine glass, encouraging the others to do the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Richard’s hand trembling before he set down his glass and tugged his handkerchief from his coat pocket. A shocking series of deep, distressing coughs racked him until he could barely draw breath between them or remain upright. Through the gaps in his fingers the handkerchief turned bright red. The violence of the coughs made him double over and he collapsed out of his chair. Silas hurried around the table to help his friend, Mary joining him, while Mrs Parker called for Tibbs to summon the doctor.

  ‘Don’t fuss over me,’ Richard gasped before another fit of coughing silenced him. He struggled for breath as he fought the spasms that racked his slender body. When the cough finally subsided, Richard lay weak and pale on the floor, each breath laboured and phlegmy. Mary cradled his head in her lap, not caring whether or not the bleeding stained her dress while she offered him what comfort she could.