The Marriage Rescue

by Joanna Johnson

  ‘I am well.’ Selina smiled as Florentia’s daughters recognised the newcomer. They threw down their dolls at once and ran towards her as quickly as their little legs would carry them, and she bent to receive them into her arms.

  ‘Lina! Lina!’

  ‘Lina! Are you come back? Are you come to live with us again?’

  ‘Not quite yet, dearest.’ She hefted the youngest onto her hip and held out her hand for the other girl. ‘But it won’t be much longer.’

  The other women had begun to crowd around her. The older ones touched the worn fabric of her dress, the wool of her shawls and even her hair in silent blessing, thankful for her return to them, while the younger rattled off questions more quickly than she could reply to them.

  ‘I’ll answer you all very soon.’ Selina looked around at the rapt faces. ‘First I would like to see my grandmother. Where is she?’

  ‘The other end of the meadow. Another one of the babies has been ill, and Zillah went out to gather some herbs for medicine.’

  All of the breath left Selina’s body. ‘Another one of the babies?’

  Surely not. Their survival had been one of the most desperate reasons she had consented to become Edward’s wife and thrown her entire existence into chaos. If a child had succumbed despite her actions all her struggle would have been in vain. The cruel irony was not lost on her.

  ‘They have been unwell?’

  ‘Yes. My son has been gravely ill, but he’s a little stronger now.’

  The child’s mother, a young woman Selina knew had only been married a year, gave her a shy smile.

  ‘He wouldn’t have survived his fever if we’d been on the road. I have you to thank for saving my boy.’

  ‘I can’t take the credit for that.’ She smiled back at the woman, relief coursing through her. So the children were safe? That was good news indeed. ‘It was my fault we would have had to move in the first place.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Florentia’s look was stern. ‘Those evil men would have found the camp eventually. If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself for us we would have had to run anyway—and probably even faster.’

  Selina shrugged off her cousin’s words. Whatever they might tell her, Selina knew in her heart that she was responsible for the calamity that had almost befallen her people. It was good to know that they didn’t blame her, but she could never allow herself any reprieve from the guilt that had haunted her ever since that night.

  Zillah’s back was to her as she approached, bent over to inspect what to most would have looked to be a clump of weeds, and the old woman spun round in alarm at the touch of Selina’s hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Selina? Oh, my Selina!’

  Zillah’s arms came around Selina in a hug that might have crushed bones had the old woman been a fraction stronger. Her grandmother held her for several long moments, gently rocking back and forth, before letting go to hold her at arm’s length and peer up sharply into her face.

  ‘Why are you here, child? Is aught amiss?’

  ‘No, Grandmother. I simply missed you, that’s all.’

  ‘But is it not dangerous for you here? What of those men?’

  ‘Peace, Grandmother.’ Selina smiled down at the lined face and the old eyes that gazed into her own. ‘They know I’m under Edward’s protection—he has made sure they are aware of our marriage. While I am his acknowledged wife they won’t dare harm me. If you have suspicions that they’ve returned I will tell Edward and he will deal with them, have no doubt. But I’m confident they won’t risk their jobs by hunting me until they feel safe to do so.’

  Selina realised her mistake as soon as the words left her lips. Using Edward’s given name, and in a tone a shade too warm, had been a fatal error. She saw a shadow of suspicion flit across the old woman’s countenance and felt her heart sink.

  ‘I see. Well... Come to the vardo, girl. I’m sure you’ve much to tell me.’

  Selina followed the slight form of her grandmother back to their caravan. Mounting the steps and crossing the threshold, she was at once assailed by the bittersweet familiarity of the compact space inside the cabin. It was only the size that surprised her. Had the cabin always been so small?

  Her time at Blackwell must have affected her more than she’d realised, she thought, and her heart gave a lurch at the notion she had become adrift from her true way of life. She frowned to herself, feeling guilt in the pit of her stomach. Of course it wasn’t the cabin that was too small. It was the fine rooms of the Hall that were too large.

  She sat and waited as Zillah busied herself stoking up the fire to make tea. Cups in hand, granddaughter and grandmother regarded each other across the narrow space between their bunks.

  ‘So.’ Zillah’s gaze was unwavering as ever. ‘You are well?’

  ‘As well as I can be. And yourself? How have you been faring?’

  ‘Oh, you know me. I am as I always am.’

  Selina sipped her tea, aware of a growing discomfort nagging at her. Zillah’s careful scrutiny was nothing new, but the wary gleam in her eye was one Selina hadn’t seen before. An unsettling feeling of being measured was creeping over her—but measured for what?

  ‘And Papa? Have you seen him?’

  ‘No.’ Zillah looked away from her, instead watching the curling flames that flickered in the grate. ‘He has had no time to visit. A few of the young men returned briefly, to see their wives, but your father has been promoted to foreman of a team and wasn’t able to come with them.’

  ‘He doesn’t know—?’

  ‘About your marriage?’ Her grandmother still studied the fire. ‘No. No—heaven forgive me—I couldn’t bear to send word to him. I just couldn’t do it.’

  Selina stared down into her teacup. How was she to respond? Of course Zillah was right. Papa would be distraught at the knowledge of how his only daughter had wed. But it could only be a matter of time before he would have to be told, and the thought of his anguish made her tea turn to ashes in her mouth.

  ‘But enough of that. I want to know everything that has befallen you since we last met. Have you been well treated?’

  Zillah’s voice was calm enough, but Selina knew her too well to be fooled. Worry had etched new wrinkles into the old woman’s lined face since she had last set eyes on her.

  ‘Yes, Grandmother.’ Selina crossed the tiny gap between their bunks and took the frail body in her arms, feeling Zillah sag with relief at her words. ‘I have been treated with nothing but respect and courtesy. You have no reason to worry.’

  ‘That—that is good to know.’

  Zillah patted her cheek with something like a smile, although Selina was sure she saw a shadow of unease still clouding her grandmother’s eyes.

  ‘I won’t deny I have been concerned.’

  ‘It’s the truth.’ Selina covered the bony hand with her own and squeezed gently. She wanted Zillah to think well of Edward, she realised with a rush of embarrassment. It mattered to her more now than she would have thought it could. ‘Edward has been very good to me—better than I ever would have dreamed. In fact, he has been kind.’

  Zillah was silent for a moment. She continued to hold her granddaughter close, but Selina could sense that the atmosphere had changed. Tension permeated the air of the cabin, replacing the tenderness of moments before.

  Zillah was the first to draw away, and Selina saw immediately that she had not been wrong about the unease in her grandmother’s expression.

  ‘You speak as though you’re fond of him. Of Edward.’ Zillah’s brow was pinched with wariness. ‘Is that so?’

  Selina felt her breath catch. Had she really been so transparent? She felt the slow tick of her pulse pick up speed. ‘I didn’t mean—’ She stumbled for an answer, words evading her as she cast about for a way out of what she realised too late was a sprung trap.

  ‘I know well enoug
h what you mean.’ Zillah passed a gnarled hand over her face, suddenly looking every one of her eighty-three years. ‘It is as I feared.’

  Selina’s palms were damp as she clenched her hands into fists. Keep your composure. Her choice of words had been a mistake; she saw that now. How could she extricate herself from a situation that had already begun to spiral out of control?

  ‘I don’t know what you can be referring to. There’s nothing for you to fear.’

  There was another silence. Selina looked down at her balled fingers and forced them to straighten out, to relax on the worn fabric of her lap. The fire in the stove crackled quietly, casting an orange glow on the polished vardo floor.

  Her grandmother’s face was almost sad as she shook her head slowly, and in the silence her voice held a world of gruff pity. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I have a very real fear that you’ve made the same mistake as many a young girl and fallen for a man you cannot hope to have.’

  Selina swallowed hard, panic rising within her. Her throat felt dry, tight, but she couldn’t bring herself to take a drink from her cup. Her stomach fluttered with some unnamed emotion. How had this situation arisen? She should have guarded her tongue more carefully. Zillah was no fool. From a few hasty words she had guessed at the depth of feeling for Edward that burned within her granddaughter’s heart, at her secret joy and pain rolled into one.

  Selina forced herself to speak, all the while wary of betraying herself further. ‘If by fallen for you mean developed a kind of friendship with—then, yes, I suppose I have. But—’

  ‘Selina.’ Zillah’s voice cut across hers, halting her stuttering reply. ‘Let us speak plainly to one another, as we always have. I believe that you have developed more than a friendly liking for this man, and I believe that if you continue on this path it will end badly for all concerned.’

  Selina stared at her, her heart beginning to jump. Too close. Far too close to the truth. It was so like Zillah to get right the point of an issue, to see through Selina’s protestations as though they were no more substantial than autumn mist. ‘I—No—That is to say, he—I—’

  Zillah sighed, long and deep, and when she peered into Selina’s face there was a complex look of pain that sent a shard of ice through to Selina’s soul.

  ‘He is gentry, Selina. Gentry. I will not try to pretend he is as abhorrent as the rest of his kind—indeed, I will admit to you that I am grateful to him for his help in our time of need. But even so... You must know that our worlds are too separate, and always will be.’

  Her grandmother’s words stung.

  ‘I don’t say I have a special regard for him. I only say that he has treated me well.’

  Selina tried to keep her tone indifferent, but all the same she could hear something beneath the surface and felt a lump rise up in her throat. Zillah was right. They were from different worlds, and all the wishing in the universe couldn’t undo that. But that wasn’t the reason she and Edward could never find happiness together.

  The short laugh Zillah huffed out was entirely humourless. ‘It isn’t your words that betray you, girl. I see that look on your face so many young women have worn through countless generations. But, however handsome your Edward is, however kind, he is still gentry and you are still Roma, and the two are like oil and water. You cannot have forgotten that fact?’

  Wordlessly Selina shook her head. Of course she had not forgotten the differences between them. The differences she had once thought it would be impossible to overcome. Now, however, they paled into insignificance in the face of Edward’s desire for a cold marriage, his desire that they should annul it as soon as it had served its purpose. It whispered to her each time Edward pulled out a chair for her at the dining table, or laughed in genuine amusement at something she had said.

  Each time he behaved towards her in a way that strengthened her esteem for him she would snap back with that knowledge: their marriage was on paper only and had no more depth than that. Zillah’s words, misguided as they were, only served to bring home the truth to Selina in harsh black and white: a man you cannot hope to have.

  ‘I am well aware of how things stand between us. There has been no impropriety, and for my part I can promise there will be none.’

  The words almost choked her. It was all she could do to speak, with lips that did not want to move and a tongue that rebelled at the thought of naming the sadness that writhed inside her. Her grandmother was right, as she so often was. How much Selina would have given for her wisdom just once to be wrong.

  ‘I think only of your happiness.’

  The gentle way Zillah spoke almost brought tears to Selina’s eyes, so different was it from her usual bluntness. She would never want to hurt her granddaughter; Selina knew that, but the words were like pinpricks to her heart nonetheless.

  ‘It is far better for you to accept now that your marriage to Edward is based on convenience and nothing more. If you say he is a kind man I am willing to believe you—but never allow sentiment to cloud your eyes to the truth.’

  For a long while neither woman spoke further.

  What complex jumble of thoughts was twisting through Zillah’s mind Selina didn’t know. All she could be sure of was the turmoil inside her own. Staring down at the polished wooden floor, all she could do was surrender to the ceaseless procession of images that cycled through her head: Edward’s intense face as he had taught her to waltz; the compassion in his look when she had cried for her mother; the closeness of his face to hers, tempting her to reach up and touch it with her lips.

  Every single instance in which his goodness had been displayed before her clamoured for attention, but she had to turn away. Because what Zillah said was true. She was a means to an end for Edward and nothing more, no matter how gently her grandmother had tried to phrase it. They had struck a bargain and he would fulfil his obligation to her. Anything further could only ever be a fanciful notion on her part, no matter how much she now wished, despairingly, that things could be different.

  * * *

  Edward rolled his aching shoulders as he cantered towards Blackwell. The day had been long and the estate business laborious and dull. He was looking forward to a good supper, a glass of port and his comfortable bed. He was just wondering if Selina would still be downstairs when he caught sight of the woman in question not far ahead of him, riding her distinctive grey horse around the side of the Hall toward the stable yard.

  A smile crossed his face before he could stop it. There was a curious kind of pleasure to be found in returning home to a wife, and one he was increasingly powerless to resist. He had come to that conclusion the last time he had been away on business, and had subsequently spent the next hour studiously avoiding said wife by retreating to his library. It was getting exhausting, this persistent regard for the woman who haunted his thoughts despite his best efforts. He didn’t seem able to master himself.

  He hadn’t been helping himself—that much he would have to own. He should not have instructed her to sit beside him at the pianoforte, for example, and attempted to teach her the notes, and he definitely shouldn’t have felt a prickle of something shiver its way down his spine when he took her hand and placed each finger on the correct keys to play a simple tune.

  He tapped his thigh lightly with his riding crop. It would have to stop. He would have to stop. He was getting carried away, and it was only a matter of time before somebody got hurt.

  Edward knew it could only be himself.

  Physically she stirred him in ways he fervently hoped she wasn’t aware of. The image of her beautiful face and lithe figure taunted him at the most inappropriate times, but worse, much worse, was the reaction she caused in his heart and mind. There were flickerings there now—embers of feeling that her kindness and humour had crept in to ignite inside him—and it terrified him. However hard he tried to suppress them they would not be extinguished.

  Her smile,
so open and honest, in direct contrast to his mother’s bland smirk, was becoming more and more contagious to him as the days went by. Her sweetness, hidden from him for so long, had begun to show itself—so different from Letitia’s sharp cynicism. Everything about Selina was poles apart from the two quality ladies who had damaged his faith in women so completely, and it was so tempting to believe she could be trusted. But surely danger lurked behind the dark Romani eyes that watched him so closely, and the ability to wound him as he had been hurt before.

  And besides, his own private thoughts were hardly relevant anyway. Selina would never reciprocate those feelings. She loathed the gentry, and with good reason. Certainly their relationship had blossomed of late, but surely on her side only into a brittle friendship, which might easily be broken by any hint of his esteem for her. She might have overcome the worst stirrings of her mistrust of him, but he wasn’t naive enough to think she would ever forget his class, or forgive his kind for the loss of her mother.

  It was this that would keep him safe and allow him to escape the perils of getting too close to a woman—just as he had always planned. He should be thankful to her for remaining so steadfast in sticking to their solely convenient marriage, for helping him to bolster his own defences when he felt them attempting to slip. To give in to his alarming weakness would be to invite the sting of rejection—something he never wanted to experience ever again.

  She had already dismounted by the time he drew closer, and he called out to her as his mare’s hooves clattered noisily across the cobbles. ‘Good evening. Have you been out?’

  Edward knew she must have heard him by the way her eyes flickered across to him before looking away again. Indeed, he could have sworn he saw her mouth twitch as though about to reply. Instead, however, she lowered her head and quickly left the stable yard, for all the world as though pretending she was ignorant of his presence—or that he was a stranger to whom she didn’t wish to speak.

  He watched her go, his face creased in surprise and more than a touch of confusion. Have I managed to offend her somehow? Surely there was no reason for such sudden and unexpected coldness.