The Convenient Felstone Marriage

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘He’s the worst of all. Deep down, he knows that if he doesn’t adapt then he’ll go bankrupt, but he refuses to admit it. He’s an old man, he’s not well and he doesn’t like change, but he can’t stand still any longer.’

  ‘Is he ailing?’

  ‘He’s been ailing for a few years, but I’m not taking advantage of a sick old man if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s a cantankerous, judgemental old bigot who’d rather run his business into the ground than sell to a low-born bastard like me.’ He made a face. ‘Excuse me, but the only reason he’s considering it is because of you.’

  ‘You must really want his yard.’

  ‘I do. The biggest and the best, remember?’ He smiled at the thought. ‘I’m offering him a better price than he deserves and easing his scruples about me into the bargain. He can’t ask for much more than that.’

  ‘So it all comes down to whether or not he approves of me?’

  ‘Essentially, yes. He was pleased to hear we were married. Now we just need to show him how eminently respectable you are.’

  She dropped her gaze abruptly. ‘So what next? Should I call on him?’

  ‘I’ve already arranged it. We’re visiting him and his daughter next week.’

  ‘His daughter?’ Her eyes flew back to his. ‘You never said he had a daughter.’

  ‘I didn’t think it mattered. Her name’s Violet.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘About the same as you, I should think.’

  ‘Do you like her?’

  ‘Like her?’ He frowned, wondering what she was getting at. ‘She’s pleasant enough, I suppose. A bit timid, though that’s no surprise living with her father. Why?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Ianthe was staring at him with a flabbergasted expression. ‘Why didn’t you just marry her?’

  Robert knit his brows together, taken aback by the question. It was a good one. Marrying Violet would have made good business sense, yet the idea had never occurred to him. In all likelihood, Harper would never have approved of him as a suitor, but that wasn’t the point. He ought to have thought of it. So why hadn’t he? Perhaps because since meeting Ianthe, he hadn’t thought of any other woman at all.

  ‘And I thought you were a man of business.’ Brown eyes sparkled with laughter. ‘He’d definitely have sold you his yard then. He might even have given it to you.’

  ‘You might be right.’ He shook his head, vaguely unnerved by the exchange. ‘But I’m afraid it’s time we were going. I ought to get back to work.’

  She fell into step beside him, swinging her bonnet loosely in one hand as they made their way back along the pier towards the cliff steps. Exposed to the elements, her hair now seemed determined to escape the confines of its bun, billowing around her face in wispy tendrils that she made no effort to brush away. Oddly enough, he seemed to prefer her dishevelled.

  ‘I’m sorry to drag you away so soon.’ He waved a summons to Matthew, stepped aside for a man in a brown jacket to pass by. ‘You can stay longer if you wish.’

  ‘On my own?’ Her voice sounded panicky all of a sudden.

  ‘With Matthew. I’m sure he’d enjoy showing you around.’

  ‘I’d rather go back.’

  He glanced at her surreptitiously. All that he’d said was that she could stay there with Matthew and yet her whole manner had suddenly changed. She seemed to have retreated inside herself again, just as she’d done when they’d first left the house, though he’d put that down to nerves about their newly established truce. Just as she’d done the other night, too, when she’d fled from the dining room. The happy, carefree woman seemed to have been replaced by a pale, frightened wraith.

  What on earth was there to be frightened of?

  ‘As you wish.’ He kept his tone even, trying not to alarm her any further.

  ‘Will you still escort us home?’

  ‘Of course.’ He drew to a halt as they reached the bottom of the steps, waiting for Matthew to catch up. ‘Though we can go through the town if you prefer? It’s a longer route, but not quite as steep. We could do some shopping now, too.’

  ‘No.’ She swept past him so quickly that for a moment he thought she intended to run up the steps.

  ‘Can’t we stay any longer?’ Matthew scampered up and tugged at his sleeve. ‘We’ve hardly been here an hour.’

  ‘Not today. Mrs Felstone needs to get home.’ He took one look at the boy’s crestfallen expression and relented. ‘You can come with me to the yard instead.’

  ‘Yes!’ Matthew gave an enthusiastic leap. ‘I said she’d be too hot.’

  ‘She’s indisposed.’

  ‘Indis—what?’

  ‘Concerned about something, but don’t mention it to anyone, lad. I’ll find out what’s the matter later.’

  He narrowed his eyes as he mounted the steps, following Ianthe’s retreating back with a look of grim determination. Whatever had happened to make her panic, this time he wasn’t going to let her tell him she was tired or hot or any other excuse. This time he was going to find out exactly what was going on.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘So...’ Ianthe twirled around in the doorway. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘You look fine.’ Robert barely glanced up from the game of chess he was playing with Matthew.

  ‘’S all right.’ His ward sounded even less impressed.

  Ianthe gave an underwhelmed sigh. Fine and all right weren’t quite the responses she’d been hoping for. Given that Robert had helped to choose her new wardrobe, she’d expected him to be slightly more enthusiastic about the results. The gown she’d selected for their visit to Mr Harper was, in her opinion, both beautiful and respectable, a pale cerulean blue with a high-buttoned neck, long sleeves and medium-sized skirts that extended backwards in the new fashion.

  ‘I thought we were going to learn about Romans today.’ Matthew pouted.

  ‘We still will. Your guardian and I just need to make a call first.’

  She smiled, secretly pleased by his petulant expression. Since their trip to the harbour, he’d become a whole different boy, positively eager for her time and attention. In striking contrast to his guardian. The atmosphere between them had been strained ever since.

  So far Robert hadn’t said anything directly about her behaviour at the harbour, though she’d caught him watching her occasionally with a speculative expression, as if trying to work something out. Even during their trip to the dressmaker’s, she’d had the uneasy feeling that she’d been under surveillance. She’d done her best to avoid being alone with him, trying to avoid questions, not that she could have given him any answers anyway. The sudden, vivid sensation of panic when he’d suggested that she stay at the harbour had surprised even her. In that moment, even his presence by her side hadn’t helped. All she’d wanted was to get back to the house as quickly as possible.

  Once there, she’d pleaded a headache and retreated to her room, aware of how bizarre her behaviour must seem, but unable to do anything about it. Ever since, she’d done her best not to give him any further cause for suspicion, though she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to go outside.

  ‘Will you be long?’

  ‘A couple of hours, maybe.’ Robert answered for them. ‘Now run along. We’ll finish the game later.’

  He stood up, adopting a stern expression as Matthew bolted away to the kitchens. ‘You don’t have to make up for his lesson later. You can have a day off when you want one.’

  ‘I know, but I enjoy teaching him. He seems to like history.’

  ‘The kind with blood and battles, I presume?’

  ‘Ye-es. But I think he’s coming along.’ She pulled on her bonnet, arranging the veil neatly. ‘Ready?’

  He gave her an intense look and she forced herself t
o smile, resting a hand on his arm and trying not to grip too tightly as they walked down the front steps and on to the street.

  ‘I thought that we’d walk.’ He sounded suspiciously nonchalant. ‘It’s not far and the weather’s fine.’

  She gave a murmur of assent, not trusting herself to speak as they walked along a succession of side streets, keeping her head up and trying to concentrate on the loveliness of her surroundings and not the sudden feeling of exposure. Truly, it was a beautiful town, the Georgian architecture perfectly in keeping with the cliff face below, as if the town itself had somehow grown out of the rock.

  She liked it here, she reminded herself. This was her new home. She was safe. And Robert was right beside her. Surely no one would hurt her when he was there.

  ‘Here we are.’ They were at Harper’s in a matter of minutes.

  ‘Here?’ She gulped, shuddering at the sight of at least twenty gargoyles peering down at them from the red-stone turrets and crenellations of a large Gothic villa.

  ‘It suits its owner, I’m afraid.’ Robert pressed her hand reassuringly. ‘But don’t worry. This is just a formality. The last piece of the puzzle, that’s all.’

  ‘The last piece...’ she murmured, adopting her most respectable demeanour. ‘All right, I’m ready.’

  ‘There’s no need to scowl.’

  ‘I didn’t know I was.’ She felt vaguely offended. ‘I’m just trying to do what you want.’

  ‘Just be yourself.’

  Herself? She lifted her eyebrows incredulously. That wasn’t what they’d agreed. They’d agreed that she be sensible and respectable. He’d never said anything about being herself before. Though of course, she realised with a sinking feeling, that was who he thought she really was...

  And it was who she was! She gave a start, alarmed to have drifted so far from the new, respectable Ianthe. Ever since their walk on the pier and that moment when she’d allowed her old self to escape for a few moments, she’d found it harder and harder to put her back in her cage. Now she felt as if her old and new identities were at war with each other, each struggling for dominance. She wasn’t sure who she was any more, but she knew who she was supposed to be.

  She straightened her shoulders, pursing her lips as she put the respectable mask back on again. Now she wished that she’d worn one of her old grey dresses instead. They would have reminded her how the new Ianthe ought to behave...

  A maid opened the door, and she felt her stomach lurch as they stepped inside. The gloomy interior seemed the perfect accompaniment to her anxiety. This was it, the real test, the whole reason that Robert had married her. She felt sick.

  ‘Mrs Felstone?’ A young woman with white-blonde hair emerged from a side door almost at once, smiling a welcome. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you finally. I’m Violet Harper.’

  ‘Miss Harper.’ Ianthe held out a hand, starting to relax slightly. The woman was unusually small, almost tiny, with striking blue eyes that gave her an almost waif-like appearance, but she seemed friendly. ‘Please call me Ianthe.’

  ‘What a beautiful name.’ The woman’s voice was soft and breathless-sounding. ‘It’s from a poem by Shelley, isn’t it? Did your parents admire the Romantics?’

  ‘Why, yes.’ She smiled appreciatively. ‘Do you like poetry, too?’

  ‘I adore it.’ Violet threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. ‘Father says it’s all foolishness, but I just love the Romantics, especially Byron.’

  ‘Have you read Don Juan?’ Ianthe bit her tongue instantly. That was definitely the old her talking. A truly respectable woman wouldn’t talk about anything so frivolous as poetry, especially not Byron or Don Juan, and absolutely not with young, unmarried daughters. Fortunately Violet didn’t seem to find anything untoward about it.

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Violet sighed wistfully. ‘Father likes to check everything I read and there are some subjects he doesn’t approve of. He only allowed Byron at first because he was a baron.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ianthe struggled to keep a straight face. ‘You know they call him the wicked lord.’

  ‘I know.’ Violet giggled. ‘Father was quite upset when he found out. But to have lived as much as Byron did, to have seen Italy and Greece...’ She sighed again. ‘How I’d love to visit them. But you’re from London, Mr Felstone tells us. I’d like to go there, too.’

  ‘You haven’t been?’

  ‘I haven’t been anywhere.’ Violet looked almost apologetic. ‘Except in my imagination, of course. Father worries about me. It’s partly due to my size, I think.’ She gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘He’s afraid I might get stepped on. But it would be nice to see a little of the world outside Whitby for a change.’

  ‘Then perhaps we’ll make a trip one day.’

  ‘Truly?’ Violet clasped her hand with a look of sheer delight. ‘Oh, I should love to. Father doesn’t approve of many women, but I feel sure he’ll like you. It would be so nice to have a friend of my own age to talk to.’

  ‘I’d like that, too.’ Ianthe felt her spirits lift. If the father were anything at all like his daughter then Robert was worrying unnecessarily. Violet already felt like a kindred spirit.

  ‘Then I’m so glad we’ve met.’ The other woman blushed suddenly. ‘But you must forgive me for talking so much. I know you’re here to see my father. Please do come this way.’

  She led them into a dark, oak-panelled parlour hung with a series of increasingly severe-looking portraits, before gesturing towards a large armchair set beside a blazing fireplace.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Felstone are here to see you, Papa.’

  ‘How do you do, Mr Harper?’ Ianthe took a step forward, bowing her head modestly.

  ‘So he’s brought you to see me at last then, has he?’

  She looked up into a pair of unblinking, cold eyes, regarding her dispassionately from the depths of the armchair. ‘I’m glad to be here, Mr Harper.’

  ‘Take a seat, then.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She sat down opposite, perching on the edge of a particularly uncomfortable-looking chair as Violet moved to stand beside him. ‘You have a very interesting house, sir.’

  ‘Do I?’ The old man’s brows twitched in what might have been a frown, though his face was so craggy it was impossible to tell. The furrows were so deeply set it was impossible to imagine him ever smiling.

  ‘Yes, it’s ve—’

  ‘What do you want from me, madam?’

  She blinked at the interruption. ‘Nothing from you, sir. I simply wanted to meet you and your daughter. I’ve no acquaintances in Whitby and my husband’s told me so much about you.’

  ‘About my shipyard, you mean?’ The old man gave a snort of derision. ‘You’re here to persuade me to sell up, I suppose?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s yours to do with as you wish.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. I make up my own mind, don’t I, Violet?’

  ‘Yes, Fa—’

  ‘Are you a sensible woman?’ He didn’t wait for his daughter to finish. ‘This one fills her head with stories and other such nonsense. I hope you’re not so foolish.’

  Ianthe pursed her lips, torn between the impulse to take Violet’s side and the need to impress her father. ‘I have a high regard for education, sir.’

  ‘For women, too?’

  She faltered, glancing at Robert for support. He was standing a small distance away, looking out of the window as if he weren’t part of the conversation at all. How was she supposed to answer such a question? He might offer her some clue... Did he expect her to betray her real opinions and lie?

  ‘I believe that everyone has the right to an education, sir.’ She tried to keep her tone as respectful as possible.

  ‘Ha! Now you do sound like my daughter. She wants to start a school for the children who work in my yard.’


  ‘But that sounds like an excellent idea!’

  ‘Not a proper school,’ Violet explained hastily. ‘Just a room where they can come for an hour every day to learn how to read and write.’

  ‘Don’t let Felstone hear you say so!’ Harper gave a rasping laugh. ‘If he buys the yard those are his workers you’ll be taking away from their duties.’

  ‘Oh...I’m sorry, Mr Felstone.’ Violet seemed to diminish visibly.

  ‘Not at all, Miss Harper.’ Robert turned towards them at last, though his expression was unreadable. ‘It sounds like a laudable idea.’

  ‘Laudable?’ Harper barked. ‘So you wouldn’t mind losing a third of your workforce every day?’

  ‘I’d mind very much, but there are ways that it could be done. I’ve no objection in principle.’

  ‘No, I suppose you wouldn’t.’

  Ianthe bristled indignantly, answering back without thinking. ‘I think that my husband’s done very well to achieve what he has without a formal education.’

  ‘Indeed he has.’ Harper regarded her sternly. ‘Though there are some things a man can’t learn by himself. Birth and breeding will out, Mrs Felstone.’

  ‘Of course.’ She swallowed a further retort. ‘And believe me, Mr Harper, I know how much my husband values good breeding. He was very keen to impress that upon me when we first met.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Harper looked slightly mollified. ‘And of course, marriage is a reforming influence. Just as long as it’s to the right woman. Who were your parents?’

  ‘My mother was a gentleman’s daughter from Pickering and my father was a gentleman himself.’ She had a feeling that describing him as an artist wasn’t going to raise the old man’s opinion. ‘Though he painted a little, too.’

  ‘Indeed? I thought he must have been in business. How else did you two meet?’

  ‘How?’ She baulked at the question. Robert had mentioned something about saying they’d had a long-distance courtship, though she hadn’t thought to discuss the details. Now she wasn’t sure what to say, but she had to say something!

  ‘We met through my brother,’ she ventured at last. ‘I lived with him after my parents died. He works as a clerk in an insurance company and, as you know, my husband does a great deal of business in London.’