Married: The Virgin Widow

by Deborah Hale

  Susannah, who had been strangely quiet, suddenly burst out with news. “All has been well at Hawkesbourne, but not elsewhere in the neighbourhood. Lady Daphne was caught sneaking out to meet your friend Mr Northmore. She has been quite wild about him since they met at the ball, but her uncles refuse to let him call at Bramberley.”

  “Northmore is no friend of mine, if he would trifle with a young lady’s reputation,” Ford muttered. “It is a connection his brother might approve, but not if the Dearings object so strongly.”

  “Perhaps you could talk to them,” Laura suggested. “What better match could Lady Daphne hope to make? If she doesn’t find a husband soon, I’m afraid she may end up a confirmed spinster like her sister. That would be a shame for she is such a lively little thing.”

  “I can try, I suppose.” Ford did not relish the idea. “Though I doubt Lord Henry or his brother are likely to heed me. The honourable gentlemen seem to think I am a traitor to our aristocratic ranks.”

  “If anyone can talk sense into them, it is you.” Laura cast him a smile that glowed with gratitude and admiration.

  They visited awhile longer with Mrs Penrose. Then, as Laura was giving a lively account of her experience sea bathing, Ford noticed her mother’s eyes had closed.

  “My dear,” he whispered, nodding toward the bed, “perhaps we should go so your mother can rest. We’ll want her as fit as can be for Belinda’s wedding.”

  Laura and her sisters rose from the chairs and they all tiptoed out of the room.

  Susannah spoke up once they were out in corridor, “I didn’t like to contradict Mama, but she has not been quite as well as she claimed. She hasn’t eaten much for the past few days.”

  Belinda did not seem worried. “I’m sure she will improve now that Laura and Ford are back.”

  A look of concern tensed Laura’s features for a moment then eased. “Perhaps you’re right, Binny. A few strolls out of doors in her garden chair with Ford will likely restore her appetite.”

  “I shall be happy to oblige.” An idea occurred to Ford. “I wonder if your mother might enjoy a musical evening like the ones you used to put on?”

  His suggestion banished a lingering shadow of worry in Laura’s eyes. “I think we all would.”

  Her sisters eagerly agreed.

  “May I invite Sidney?” asked Belinda.

  “Of course,” said Ford. “It is to be a family evening, after all.” It would be a perfect opportunity to take his future brother-in-law aside and apologise for his past behaviour.

  Laura turned to her sisters. “I almost forgot. We brought you presents from Brighton. A new bonnet each and fans painted with pictures of the Royal Pavilion.”

  “Where are they?” demanded Susannah, as excited as a child. “Can we see them?”

  Laura gave an indulgent smile. “I told Mr Pryce to put my packages in the drawing room.”

  The girls scampered off in that direction, while Ford and Laura followed.

  “I had another idea.” Ford felt foolishly hesitant to broach it.

  “I hope it is as inspired as your one about the musical evening.” Laura’s smile glowed with approval. “I am looking forward to it already.”

  “That will be for you to judge.” Ford took a deep breath and ploughed ahead. “I know it is not the fashion for ladies and gentlemen to share a bedchamber, but I rather enjoyed the novelty while we were in Brighton. So I wondered…” His voice trailed off as Laura’s brow tensed in an anxious furrow.

  “Of course, if that is what you wish.” They were the words of a dutiful wife, acceding with good grace to the whims of her husband, whether she agreed or not.

  “Only if you wish it, too.”

  Laura stopped and turned toward him. Ford wondered if she was trying to gauge his sincerity.

  “I think we should not make any hasty changes in our arrangements.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Now that we are married, you will be most welcome in my bedchamber whenever you choose to visit.”

  The way she glanced up at him through the fringe of her lashes made Ford eager to accept her tempting invitation at the earliest opportunity.

  He raised his hand to cup her chin, but regretted the sudden movement when Laura shied from his touch. “If you prefer to keep your quarters private, I could have you come to mine, instead?”

  He meant it to be a seductive invitation, but Laura blanched as if it were a mortal threat. “Not that, if you please. Cyrus used to summon me when…That room holds most unpleasant associations for me. Perhaps having joint quarters is the most sensible plan after all.”

  Ford cursed his cousin. Would the mistreatment Laura had suffered always stand between them? He longed to banish her dark memories and replace them with sweet, wanton pleasure, persuading her what a deliciously desirable woman she truly was.

  That would not be the work of a moment, experience reminded him, but patient, steady effort over weeks and months. The struggles of the past seven years had equipped him with the skills and determination he needed to succeed.

  He took her hand in both of his. “I reckon your original idea was correct. Worthwhile change does not come quickly. It takes time.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As her fingers skipped over the keys of the pianoforte to play a familiar lilting tune, Laura felt the past seven years slip away. In happier days, she and her sisters had often entertained their parents with musical evenings like this. Once Ford began courting her, he’d been invited to take part. Belinda and Susannah had tried to revive the custom at Hawkesbourne, but Laura had not encouraged them for fear it would stir up too many bittersweet memories. Perhaps now they could recapture some of the simple joys of the past.

  As she ended her piece with a flourish, the audience applauded warmly. It was a select group including her mother and sisters, Ford, Sidney Crawford and Mr Pryce, whom Mama had insisted must join them. Laura rose and curtsied. Then she slipped on to the empty chair beside Ford while Susannah came forwards to play her recorder.

  “That was lovely, my dear!” Her mother clasped Laura’s hand. “‘Gathering Peascods’ is one of my favorite tunes. How well I remember dancing to it with your dear papa, God rest his soul.”

  Laura gave her mother’s hand a gentle squeeze. She’d paid a high price so that Mama’s fond memories of Papa would not be poisoned, as hers had. If she alone had borne the cost, it would have been worth it. But Ford had paid too, without even the small consolation of knowing what all his years of hardship and loneliness had bought. For as long as her mother lived, Laura could not risk telling him. Even then, she feared he would blame her more than ever.

  Not that he behaved as if he blamed her. Ever since their honeymoon in Brighton, he had been as attentive as any new bridegroom. he’d been very understanding about her reluctance to share a bedchamber, though she sensed his disappointment. Often of late, Laura sensed his good humor was sincere, rather than a mask for darker feelings seething beneath the surface. Earlier in the evening, she had watched with some anxiety as he’d welcomed Sidney Crawford to Hawkesbourne, drawing the younger man aside for a private word. But after a quiet, earnest exchange, Ford had offered his hand, which Sidney had taken, looking as happily relieved as Laura felt.

  Susannah dashed through her piece a little too quickly and made a few mistakes, but the vivacity of her performance rendered it enjoyable none the less.

  Belinda sang next, accompanying herself on the pianoforte. “‘Love’s a gentle, generous passion, source of all sublime delight.’”

  Every so often, during her song, she glanced up at Sidney Crawford with a soft, dreamy expression, which he returned. Laura could not help envy their pure, uncomplicated feelings for one another.

  After Sidney led a hearty round of applause for his fiancée, Laura’s mother asked, “Who will be next? Ford, you have a fine voice, as I recall. Will you honour us with a song?”

  Ford sang very well, Laura recalled, a talent he must have inherited from his late moth
er, who had been quite a well-known Vauxhall performer before her marriage.

  Tonight he shook his regretfully. “I haven’t sung a note in ages, ma’am. I should hate to bring down the quality of the evening’s entertainment.”

  Had he sung at all since her mother had last heard him? Laura wondered with a pang. From what he’d told her of his time abroad, he’d had little reason to sing.

  “Tush!” cried Susannah. “This isn’t Drury Lane. It is only a family musical evening. And, like it or not, you are part of the family now, so you mustn’t shirk.”

  Her words brought a grin to Ford’s lips. “As it happens, I very much like being part of this family and I am no shirker. If you can find a familiar piece of music and if my lovely wife will consent to accompany me, I will do my part.”

  “I’m sure I can locate something.” Susannah scurried off to leaf through the stack of music.

  “And I would be happy to accompany you, of course.” Laura sprang up to help her sister locate a suitable piece.

  A few moments later, she and Ford were seated at the pianoforte, his leg pressed against hers, as he sang one of their old favorites in his rich, warm baritone. “‘Sweet are the charms of her I love, more fragrant than the damask rose. Soft as the down of turtledove, gentle as winds when zephyr blows.’”

  It took every scrap of will-power Laura possessed to concentrate on the notes in front of her, and force her fingers to press the right keys. The way Ford sang those words threw her into as confused a flutter as any callow chit of sixteen with her first beau. It was the same way Sidney looked at Belinda, though it could not be for the same reason. Ford was passionately attracted to her and genuinely fond of her family. If he felt anything deeper, it might be pity for the mistreatment she’d suffered from his cousin.

  The sum of those things did not add up to love, though an unsuspecting person might be fooled. Or perhaps a person who desperately wanted to see more than was there. But she was not such a person, surely.

  “‘Refreshing as descending rains,’” Ford sang, “‘on sun-burnt climes and thirsty plains.’”

  That final stanza reminded Laura yet again of what he had endured as a consequence of her actions. Perhaps if he knew she’d been trying to spare him as well as her family, he might be able to forgive her. Or more likely he would hate her for depriving him of the things he cared most deeply about.

  Sweet are the charms of her I love. Ford hummed the tune under his breath as he strode down the east gallery to collect Belinda for her wedding.

  Sweet indeed were Laura’s many charms, now that he was no longer working so hard to ignore or resist them. During their honeymoon, he’d discovered her touching gratitude for the smallest kindness, and her tender sympathy for anyone in distress. He had first glimpsed the latter when he’d told her about his stepmother’s betrayal, but had only experienced its full soothing power when he’d finally brought himself to speak of his early trials in the Indies. True to the words of the old love ballad, her compassion had been as “refreshing as descending rains on sun-burnt climes and thirsty plains”.

  Yet, for all the appealing, feminine softness of her heart, she possessed a quiet strength that had won his admiration. She’d sacrificed so much for her family. She had endured the cruelty of a violently frustrated husband. She’d given Ford the freedom to make his fortune, even when she believed he had abandoned her. And she’d borne all those burdens alone, hiding them from her family to protect their peace of mind.

  Just then her voice wafted out of a half-open door ahead of him. “You make a beautiful bride, Binny! I can hardly wait to see Sidney’s face when he catches sight of you. It will take his breath away.”

  “All this is taking my breath away,” replied Belinda. “I’m so nervous, I fear I’ll swoon. Am I doing the right thing? Sidney and I have had such a brief engagement, we barely know each other. Perhaps I should call it off.”

  “And break the poor man’s heart?” Laura affected a tone of exaggerated severity. “You wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?”

  Her words stopped Ford in his tracks, his pride stung. He detested the notion that she’d gone ahead with their wedding out of pity and a sense of obligation toward him.

  “You’re right,” cried Belinda. “That would be unbearable!”

  “You needn’t fret about your brief engagement,” said Laura. “I am certain the two of you will have a splendid time getting to know one another better once you are married. So you have no reason to be nervous, do you?”

  After a significant pause, Belinda finally answered, but in so soft a voice that Ford could not make out a word.

  “Do not worry about that, either,” Laura reassured her sister. “If you had any idea what pleasure awaits you, I reckon you would fly down to the ballroom and marry Sidney as quick as a wink.”

  Her voice fell to an intimate murmur, of which Ford could only catch a word here and there. The suggestive playfulness of her tone suggested she was telling Belinda something about the delights of her marital duties. He savoured the satisfaction of having altered her attitude so completely on that score.

  “I can hardly wait!” Belinda gave a gleeful chuckle. “I assume you are speaking from experience. From the moment you returned from Brighton, I knew you and Ford must have had a blissful honeymoon. You look quite ten years younger.”

  Ford strained to catch Laura’s reply.

  “Gracious!” she cried “Look at the time! Where is Sukie? I must go fetch Mama and wheel her into the ballroom.”

  Stifling a stab of disappointment, Ford made a swift, guilty retreat down the gallery before Laura darted out of her sister’s room.

  He acted pleasantly surprised to see her, pulling her into his arms. “What shameless behaviour to outshine the bride on her wedding day. Come and take your punishment.”

  He treated her to a tart, teasing kiss that promised her a night of such pleasure as she’d told her sister.

  After a few moments’ indulgence, Laura pulled away with obvious reluctance. “You have not seen the bride yet. I assure you, no other lady has a hope of outshining her today.”

  “I reserve the right to my opinion.” Ford gently tweaked her nose.

  “Binny is suffering from bride’s nerves,” Laura warned him. “You had better hold tight to her arm in case she falls into a swoon.”

  Ford pretended he was hearing all this for the first time. “I will endeavour to divert her with my sparkling wit.”

  A few minutes later, he walked back down the gallery with Belinda on his arm while Susannah marched ahead of them. Belinda looked every bit as lovely as Laura had claimed and Crawford was a damned lucky fellow to get her. She was sweet natured, dutiful and obliging with a dash of mischief that saved her from being insipid. For all that, she lacked the spirit, strength and mystery that Ford found so alluring in Laura.

  “Don’t even think of trying to bolt,” he warned Belinda. “If you do, your bridegroom is likely to blame me just when I am anxious to mend fences with him.”

  “No bolting, I promise.” She squeezed his arm. “Laura already reminded me how guilty I would feel if I broke Sidney’s heart. I doubt I would be so fortunate as her to get a second chance.”

  Had they been given a second chance at happiness, as recompense or reward for what they’d endured these past seven years? Ford wished he had done half as much to deserve it as Laura.

  He forced those vexing doubts from his mind. “In that case, you had better get it right the first time.”

  When they reached the entrance to the ballroom, Ford heard a trio of musicians playing quietly for the assembled wedding guests. Upon the appearance of the wedding party, they broke into a stately march.

  As Ford escorted Belinda up the wide aisle between the rows of chairs, he only had eyes for his bride. He wished he and Laura could stand up in front of the vicar and repeat their wedding vows. This time he would be able to speak his with a great deal more conviction.

  “I
wonder how Mr and Mrs Crawford are enjoying Brighton?” said Ford as he and Laura drove to Bramberley in a two-wheeled gig, a few days after the wedding.

  It was a fine summer day on the High Weald. A warm wind carried the wild perfume of dog roses and honeysuckle from the hedgerows. In the fields beyond, farmers were cutting their hay.

  “I believe you mean, how they are enjoying each other.” Laura held her hat against a sudden gust of wind. “Tolerably well, I hope. I trust him to treat her kindly, though I worry over his confounded bashfulness.”

  “You don’t suppose he will scoop her up from her dressing table and carry her off to bed?” Taking the reins in one hand, Ford settled the other upon her knee.

  His touch, coupled with memories of their wedding night, sent a ripple of heat through her. “I would be very much surprised if he did. Fortunately, I had a little chat with my sister about what to expect on her wedding night.”

  Ford’s dark brows shot up. “That must have been a fascinating conversation.”

  Laura chuckled. “I hope Sidney will have reason to thank me for it.”

  They seemed to leave summer behind when they drove through the Bramberley gatehouse into a courtyard around which the stately old house had been built. The walls were so overgrown with lichen and ivy that several windows were almost completely obscured. Laura half-expected to catch a glimpse of ghosts in ruffs and farthingales peering out from some of the others.

  “The Dearings only live in the south range.” Laura pointed toward it as Ford reined in the horses. “The rest of the place has been shut up for years.”

  “They’d be better off renting Bramberley to a rich tenant.” Ford swept a critical glance around the mouldering courtyard. “They could live quite comfortably in Bath on the proceeds. Lord Edward and Lord Henry could take the waters for their health and their nieces would have a better chance of finding husbands.”

  “That would require putting practicality before pride.” Laura squeezed his hand as he helped her out of the gig. “I reckon the Dearings would rather watch Bramberley fall into ruins than rent the place to some jumped-up nabob.”