The Convenient Felstone Marriage

by Jenni Fletcher

‘Didn’t your aunt feed you either?’

  She dropped her eyes to the tablecloth. ‘She’s been very kind, but...I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.’

  ‘Or much sleep either, I think.’

  ‘No-o. I’m afraid I haven’t been sleeping well. Until today, that is.’

  Robert’s frown eased slightly. That fact was encouraging at least. Doubtless he was overthinking things and she’d simply been worried about taking such a big step. Now that the wedding was over, perhaps she’d start to relax. Perhaps they both would.

  The arrival of a maid carrying a tureen of soup prevented him from asking any more questions. Instead, he watched in surprise as Ianthe fell upon the liquid with gusto, swallowing each mouthful with a relish that suggested she hadn’t eaten anything for days. The contrast with their wedding luncheon could hardly have been any greater. She certainly didn’t look anxious now. She was already scooping up her last spoonful, licking her lips with satisfaction.

  He tore his gaze away from her mouth quickly.

  ‘That was delicious.’ She patted a napkin to her lips. ‘Your Mrs Lughton is an excellent cook.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to tell her you enjoyed it.’

  ‘She seemed very pleasant. Everyone did. And it’s a beautiful house, what I’ve seen of it anyway. Although I think this is only the third room I’ve been in.’

  ‘Then I’ll give you a proper tour after dinner. I wouldn’t want you to get lost on your way to bed.’

  ‘I’d like that. Though it doesn’t seem like a fair exchange.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘All of this for me.’

  ‘Perhaps you underestimate yourself.’

  A shadow flitted across her face. ‘I don’t think so.’

  She dropped her gaze to the table again, staring at it in silence as the maid returned with a tray, clearing away the bowls and replacing them with plates of roast beef, potatoes, carrots and steaming hot gravy.

  ‘About your ward...’ She looked up again once the maid had gone.

  ‘What about him?’ He tensed immediately.

  ‘You should know that my former pupils were both girls.’

  ‘So?’ He wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

  ‘I’m not used to teaching boys.’

  ‘Weren’t there any in the family you worked for?’

  She started as if he’d just said something shocking, fork suspended halfway to her mouth.

  ‘Ianthe?’

  ‘There was.’ Her voice sounded oddly tremulous. ‘But he was older. You know, most boys are sent away to school.’

  ‘So I’ve heard, but I prefer to keep Matthew with me.’

  ‘It might be better for his education.’

  Robert knit his brows together suspiciously. ‘Do you want me to send him away?’

  ‘No! Of course not.’

  ‘Good. He’s had enough upheaval in his life.’

  ‘Then I’ll do my best. I just thought you should know that my experience is...limited.’

  He relaxed slightly. ‘I’m sure you’ll do a good job, Ianthe. Better than anything I could do anyway. I’ve had one of the bedrooms on the first floor turned into a schoolroom. It faces east with a view of the sea. It should be very pleasant there in the mornings.’

  ‘That was very thoughtful. Is there anything in particular you want me to teach him?’

  Robert shrugged. ‘I haven’t thought too much about it. I’ve been teaching him reading and numbers at the yard, but I’d like you to round out his education with the things I can’t teach.’

  ‘Languages?’

  ‘Do you know any?’

  ‘German and Italian, and I can read Latin. A little Greek, too.’

  ‘Just a little?’ He lifted his eyebrows, impressed.

  ‘I like words, whatever the language.’ She smiled shyly. ‘Even when they’re not poetry.’

  ‘I had no idea of your talents. Perhaps we should forget about Matthew and have you come to work at the yard instead.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I deal with traders from all over Europe. It might be useful to have a translator.’

  Her face brightened enthusiastically. ‘Then I’d be happy to help. I’d like to see your shipyard anyway.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. It was the reason we got married, wasn’t it? I’d like to see what I’m helping to build.’

  ‘Then I’ll arrange it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Robert smiled across the table with a new sense of appreciation. Things were definitely looking up. Apparently there was more to his wife than he’d first given her credit for. She might prove an asset to his business in more ways than one. The soup clearly hadn’t satiated her appetite either. She was eating even more heartily now than before.

  ‘Did you go to school?’ She paused briefly between mouthfuls.

  ‘Me?’ He almost dropped his fork in surprise. ‘No. We hardly had money for food, let alone schooling.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think...’

  ‘I’m not offended, Ianthe, but I thought you knew about my background. Surely Kitty told you.’

  ‘She’s been distracted with plans for the baby, I think. Aunt Sophoria told me your mother raised you, but if you taught Matthew to read and write then you must have learnt those skills somewhere?’

  ‘I was always good with numbers.’ He speared a potato, feeling a vague sense of discomfort. He wasn’t accustomed to talking about himself or his past, but then, she was his wife. She had a right to ask a few questions about him. As long as it was only a few...

  ‘I couldn’t read or write when we moved to Whitby, but I could turn my hand to most things and I was a quick learner. When I was twelve, I got a job at Masham’s Shipyard as an apprentice. Mr Masham saw something in me and took me under his wing.’

  ‘So he taught you?’

  ‘After I’d finished my regular work, yes. Then, when I was good enough, he made me a clerk in his office. It turned out I had a talent for business. Old Masham had come up from nothing himself and we made a good team. By the time he died, we were partners. He left me the rest of the yard in his will.’

  ‘Didn’t he have any family?’

  ‘No, he loved his work, practically lived at the yard. He didn’t want any distractions...’ He winced at his tactlessness. ‘Not that marriage is a distraction necessarily.’

  She gave a placatory smile. ‘You don’t have to defend yourself. Our marriage is a business arrangement, after all. Mr Masham might have approved.’

  ‘Probably. Not that he ever cared about being respectable.’

  ‘He might have been right.’ She sounded thoughtful. ‘Why is respectability so important after all?’

  ‘Only a person who’s never had to worry about it would ask that question.’ His voice hardened dangerously.

  ‘You just said that Mr Masham didn’t care.’

  ‘His mother was never called a whore in the street.’

  Robert clenched his jaw, regretting the words the instant they were out of his mouth. Damn it, this was the reason he didn’t answer questions about himself. He could keep his temper on almost every other subject.

  ‘They called her that?’ Ianthe was staring at him with a frankly appalled expression.

  ‘Amongst other things.’

  ‘Because of your father?’

  ‘In part.’ He put his cutlery down, losing his appetite suddenly. ‘There were other rumours, too, not that there was any truth to them. Some people just prefer to see the worst. They think that when a woman makes a mistake once, she’ll make it again.’

  ‘But that’s not fair!’

  He gave a bitter laugh. ‘No, but
that’s how it works.’

  ‘So that’s why being respectable is so important to you? It’s not just to convince Mr Harper to sell?’

  He heaved a sigh. ‘It’s important because I’ve heard enough insults in my life, Ianthe. I’ve had my fill of rumour and gossip. I won’t give anyone the chance to spread any more about me. That’s why respectability matters.’

  ‘But...’ Her voice trailed away as if she were about to burst into tears.

  ‘What is it?’ Robert frowned across the table. Why was she so shocked? She knew that he was illegitimate. Surely she might have guessed how his mother had been treated, too—the names she’d been called. Or was she so horrified by the connection?

  ‘I thought you only wanted a respectable wife to impress Mr Harper.’

  Her voice was so faint that he had to strain to hear it.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Someone to teach your ward and make calls—that was what you said.’

  ‘It was. It is.’

  ‘You didn’t say anything about gossip.’

  His frown deepened. ‘That’s all in the past, Ianthe.’

  She pushed her chair back abruptly. ‘I think I’ve had enough to eat. Everything was delicious, but I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed.’

  ‘Again?’ He looked at her sceptically, but she was already heading for the door.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She turned slightly in the doorway, though she seemed reluctant to look him in the eye. ‘Will I see you in the morning?’

  ‘No.’ He reached for the crystal decanter in the middle of the table, pouring himself a large glass of wine. He had intended to breakfast with her, but now an extra hour at the shipyard seemed a far more appealing idea. ‘Mrs Baxter will help you with anything you need while I’m away.’

  ‘Then have a good journey.’ She was already halfway through the door. ‘Goodnight.’

  He didn’t bother to answer, waiting until the door had closed completely before draining his glass and hurling it violently into the fireplace.

  What had gone wrong? One minute they’d been talking about the shipyard and the next she was running away! Because of his mother? He balled his hands into fists at the thought. He’d told her that he had no intention of discussing his past, that it was somewhat less than salubrious, but he’d assumed that she’d find out the details on her own. She’d had three months to do so! The short engagement that she’d wanted! Why hadn’t Kitty told her? Typical if this was the one time Giles’s wife had actually managed to be discreet!

  He glowered at the door as if she were still standing in front of it. So much for respectability. His own wife seemed mortified at the thought of being married to him. It was just like Louisa had said. No respectable woman would want to be associated with a man with his past. Somehow he’d thought better of Ianthe, but she was just like everyone else, assuming the worst, first about Matthew, then his mother, too!

  Well, if she didn’t like her situation, it wasn’t his fault. He’d told her to make enquiries. Too bad if she hadn’t followed his advice.

  From now on their marriage would be what it was supposed to be in the first place. A business arrangement.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘What about geography? Do you like that?’

  Ianthe gestured towards a large globe by the window, repressing a sigh as Matthew shrugged for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

  She gritted her teeth, glancing around the room for any other sources of inspiration. After two days, all she’d managed to learn about her new pupil was that whilst he was adequate at reading and writing, he was ambivalent about art, literature and almost every other subject she could think of, with no enthusiasm for anything—least of all her.

  She was only relieved that her new husband wasn’t there to witness her failure. His absence was a respite in more ways than one. After what he’d told her about his mother and the importance of respectability, she’d needed space to decide what to do next. She’d known that running out of the dining room had offended him, but if she’d stayed she might have blurted the truth out there and then.

  Why hadn’t he told her before? He’d said that he wanted a respectable bride, not some paragon of virtue! She could never live up to that! If she’d known why being respectable meant so much to him, she would never have married him, Sir Charles or not! She’d thought that the worst that might happen was that Harper would refuse to sell his shipyard. Now she felt as though she were living with a sword over her head. If the truth about her past ever came out, there’d be more gossip than he knew what to do with!

  Not that it was entirely her fault. If he’d only visited her during their engagement then they might have discussed it. She could have called off the wedding. Whereas now... She heaved a sigh. Even if she told him about Albert now, what good would it do? The truth would only drive a further wedge between them. No, it was too late either to tell him or to back out...

  ‘Are we finished?’ Matthew’s voice broke through her reverie.

  ‘No.’ She straightened up with a snap. Even if she’d already failed as a wife, she’d no intention of failing as a teacher as well. ‘Wouldn’t you like to learn where all the ships in the harbour travel to? All the ones that your...guardian builds?’

  As usual, she hesitated over the word guardian, though surely Robert didn’t think her so naive as not to guess the real relationship between him and the boy. Matthew could hardly have looked any more like him. So why on earth hadn’t he told her he had a son? Apparently, maintaining an appearance of respectability was even more important to him than she’d thought. The things they weren’t telling each other would fill a book at this rate.

  ‘S’pose.’ Matthew rested his head on his arms.

  ‘Good.’ She tapped the wooden desk with her knuckles, making him spring up again. ‘Come to the window.’

  ‘Why?’

  She didn’t answer, gesturing towards the horizon. ‘Now, if you were to sail in a straight line directly from here, you’d get to Denmark. This is us...’ she trailed her fingers across the globe ‘...and this is Denmark. It’s part of Scandinavia, where the Vikings came from.’

  ‘The ones with horns on their helmets?’

  ‘That’s them. They came here a long time ago and destroyed the whole town.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Then a few of them decided to stay. They were the ones who named it Whitby. The word means “white settlement” in old Norse.’

  Matthew gave a begrudging look of interest before remembering to frown again. ‘Are you going to be teaching me every day?’

  ‘In the mornings, yes.’

  ‘Does it have to be here?’ He peered wistfully out of the window. ‘Only it’s been raining for weeks. Now it’s finally sunny again.’

  ‘And you’d rather be outside?’

  He nodded vigorously. ‘We could go down to the shore. You could tell me some more about Vikings on the way.’

  Ianthe glanced outside, torn between the desire to make friends and a sudden rush of panic. The day was bright and inviting, the sunshine bouncing off the water just over the cliff’s edge, making the air itself seem to sparkle, and yet even the thought of venturing outside made her hands start to sweat and her stomach to churn alarmingly. After three months of staying mostly indoors, the outside world felt dangerous somehow.

  ‘It’s a high tide, isn’t it?’ She tried to sound discouraging.

  ‘It’s going out again now.’

  ‘Trying to get out of class already?’

  They both swung around at the sound of Robert’s voice. He was standing only a few paces behind them, pale eyes glinting with amusement.

  ‘You’re back!’ Matthew charged across the room, flinging himself enthusiastically against Robert’s legs.

  ‘So I
am.’ He wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. ‘A good thing, too, I suspect. Are you trying avoid lessons?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Ianthe leapt to Matthew’s defence, trying to ignore the sudden thumping sensation in her chest, as if her heart were actually jumping around inside there. ‘We were just talking about Vikings.’

  ‘Whitby means white settlement,’ the boy announced proudly.

  ‘Is that so? Then I stand corrected.’ Robert winked at Matthew before turning to her with a look of polite, guarded enquiry. ‘Have you been researching local history?’

  ‘A little.’ She tried to smile, but her features seemed frozen into place. ‘I thought I ought to learn something about my new home.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  Ianthe reached behind her, grasping hold of the window ledge for support. She’d replayed their last conversation in her head so many times that seeing him again seemed almost unreal. Now he was there she had no idea what to say, no idea how to pick up the pieces left by her running away.

  ‘We were about to go down to the harbour.’ Matthew sounded as if he were trying to convince both of them.

  ‘Really?’ Robert quirked an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes.’ Matthew jutted his chin out determinedly. ‘I’m going to show her around. Mrs Lughton says she hasn’t been anywhere yet.’

  Ianthe blinked in surprise. She hadn’t realised that her movements, or lack of them, had been the subject of conversation in the house. Fortunately, Robert didn’t appear to find anything strange about it.

  ‘Then perhaps you might permit me to join you? If you don’t mind my spending some time with your new governess, that is?’

  ‘Can we still go to the beach?’

  ‘We’ll go along the pier. Now go and fetch a coat.’

  Ianthe’s pulse quickened as Matthew charged out of the room, leaving them alone together. With him gone, the room seemed smaller somehow, stifling almost, as if there wasn’t enough air to breath.

  ‘What about you, Ianthe?’ Robert’s voice sounded different now, too, quieter and more sombre. ‘Do you object to me accompanying you?’

  ‘I... No.’ She wavered uncertainly. His unexpected arrival was making her feel flustered enough. The thought of going outside with him as well made her feel positively faint. She hadn’t even agreed to Matthew’s plan! But if she refused now, it might make the situation between them even worse. She pursed her lips anxiously. How could she explain that it wasn’t him she objected to so much as the thought of going outdoors at all? She felt crazy even admitting the fear to herself.