Chapter Nine
So shaken that her legs threatened to give way, Anne fled to the sanctuary of her bedchamber, collapsed on the bed and buried her face in her hands. A mad start, if ever she’d heard one. Marry a man she met two days ago, one she knew almost nothing about, and take on the role of mother to three children? Your troubles would be over if you were a married woman. Someone to protect you and pay your passage to England.
No! That could not be a consideration, no matter how tempting. Better to concentrate on what it would mean to enter into a marriage of convenience, for Blackwell had made it very clear that was what he offered.
She could have a home and family; children to nurture, but without the physical warmth normally shared by husband and wife. Can you do that, Anne? The children, yes. She already was more than fond of Danielle and Guy and had ample room in her heart for Sarah. But the intimacy she had dreamed of was hard to give up. She wanted it, wanted to feel a man’s touch, his kiss. Not the brutal embrace of the Major, but a loving affection.
“Ohhhh.” Anne fell back onto the bed, fear and uncertainty twisting through her, and stared at the cracked ceiling. Face it, Anne. You are twenty-three years old, have limited social skills and few contacts, and no beauty or fortune. Is living in a cottage with the Fentons how you want to spend the rest of your life? The picture did not appeal, no more than did a loveless marriage. Neither promised happiness, but not much of life did so. Marriage at least offered a chance for a man’s companionship and respect. Was that such a small thing?
Anne rolled over, sat up, and wrapped her arms around her knees, a hundred thoughts tumbling through her head. Had she the courage to do this? Her life would be forever changed, and whether for the better, who could say? A chill prickled over her skin, and she hastily rose, stretched stiffened limbs and trudged to the washstand to stare at her unappealing reflection. You look a fright, she thought crossly before tidying her hair and splashing water on her flushed face and reddened eyes.
“If you think to hide the fact that you are overset to the point of tears, think again. I knew no good was to come of this,” Maggie said sharply from the doorway. She marched in and confronted Anne, arms akimbo. “Now that man has you so wound up you run off without so much as a by-your-leave, just when those children are already scared at being sent off with a stranger.”
Anne moaned and pressed her fingers against her cheeks, wracked with guilt. “Oh, how could I have been so thoughtless? Were they terribly upset? Perhaps I….”
In the face of Anne’s obvious distress, Maggie’s expression softened. “They were well enough,” she said grudgingly. “Mr. Fenton went with them so they could take Bonnie and then he will bring her back here.” Her lips tightened into a thin line and she jerked her head toward the bed. “Sit. You’ll be telling me what is going on, and I’ll be off my feet while you are doing it.” Maggie planted herself in the single chair and looked pointedly at Anne.
Anne’s chest swelled, and she blew out a gusty breath as she sank onto the side of the bed. “Mr. Blackwell has asked that I marry him.”
The flabbergasted expression on Maggie’s face was everything Anne could have wished, had she set out to rattle the unflappable Maggie, which she had not, but she was not above a fleeting enjoyment of the moment.
“Marry you. A woman he’s known for two days? The man must have windmills in his head.” Maggie fisted her hands on her hips and leaned forward, her expression turning from amazed to sour. “I don’t often misjudge a person, but it looks like I erred with this fellow. I’d not have suspected him as being nonsensical. As if you would entertain such an idea!”
Anne pinched her lips together and returned Maggie’s glare with one of her own. “Why shouldn’t I entertain the idea?” For all the reasons you just spent the past half-hour brooding about, Anne, so why the absurd feeling of unworthiness because Maggie thinks as you do?
“You know nothing about the man, Miss Anne! We’ve his say-so that he is a widower and has a child, but if that is the case, I daresay he has any number of women clamoring after him. Why you, and why now?”
“Why not me? I’m not such an antidote as all that.” Anne jumped up and took a swift turn around the room, her clenched fists tapping together in front of her as she paced. “Besides, it’s the children who concern him; Danielle in particular. He feels it unwise to take her to England un-chaperoned, alone with him, on a ship full of rough sailors. She is just old enough that people might gossip. It will be difficult enough for her to become established in a strange country without adding a tarnished reputation.”
“You are far from being an antidote, but that’s neither here nor there since I don’t believe for a minute your appearance enters into it. And I can think of other ways to get around the chaperone problem.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed with evident suspicion and she held up a hand, palm out. “What does he really want?”
Anne halted, head bowed, her gaze fastened on the floor as if an answer was written on the rough tile. “A mother—for his daughter, and Guy and Danielle, who he plans to make his wards,” she muttered after a long pause.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, until Anne raised her head to stare at Maggie with a mute plea for understanding. Anne wanted to cry out her desires—for a home of her own, a family, an end to loneliness, and yes, to fear. But she swallowed the words. Never would she allow the Fenton’s to believe the love and care they had given her was wanting. You cannot do that, Anne, and besides, until now, it was enough. But no longer—she wanted more, and if she could not explain her feelings to herself, how could she expect Maggie to understand?
Maggie studied Anne’s face, then pushed up from the chair and walked across to where Anne stood. “A mother. That is all he wants?”
Maggie’s voice was so unexpectedly gentle that Anne’s eyes filled and she turned her head to avoid the woman’s look of compassion, suspecting that Maggie was more aware of Anne’s feelings than she’d imagined.
Stifling a surge of self-pity, Anne managed a wan smile. “Yes. A marriage in name only. He wants a mother for his daughter, Danielle and Guy, and in return, offers the protection of his name, a home I am free to make my own, and a ready-made family.”
“I see. And you would settle for this? A loveless marriage mothering someone else’s children? Why, Anne? You can do better; find someone who will love you, cherish you for yourself. Not use you to fill the position of nursemaid and housekeeper.”
“Can I? Can I really?” Anne swirled away from her, fists clenched at her sides. “I am twenty-three years old, Maggie, with barely enough funds to keep us. That is assuming I will ever get access to them! I am in no position to meet someone suitable. I have a maniacal man hunting me relentlessly and the single avenue open to me is teaching music—to other people’s children.”
Maggie dismissed Anne’s outburst with a flick of her hand and an angry scowl. “Not one of those things is insurmountable. Difficult, but I’ve seen you overcome worse.” Her voice hardened. “Marriage is forever. You truly want to spend the rest of your life in a cold, lonely bed?” She took a step forward, then seemingly struck by a sudden thought, paused and narrowed her eyes. “Or is that part of it, Anne? You are afraid of intimacy because of what happened with the Major? If so, then a nice, safe platonic marriage would certainly be to your advantage.”
Anne felt the quick familiar turn in her stomach that any thought of the Major brought, but she squared her shoulders and met Maggie’s stare without faltering. “He did not rape me, Maggie. You know that better than anyone.”
“He came close enough to make any woman leery of men, not to mention a frightened, grieving girl.”
“I am not afraid of Mr. Blackwell.” Anne said it quietly, but with utter conviction. She had nothing to fear from this often unlikeable and sometimes disagreeable stranger, a knowledge she could neither explain nor even understand.
Silent for a long moment, Maggie’s eyes searched Anne’s face, and then she took Anne�
��s hands in hers. “You plan to accept his offer, don’t you?” It was more statement than question.
Anne clung fiercely to her friend’s hands for a minute, her whispered, “yes” barely audible “I’ll make it enough, Maggie. Guy and Danielle need me, and if that is all I have, I will be content.”
Maggie stepped back and walked to the door. “I hope so, child, I hope so.”
Drained and more frightened of the future than ever in her life, Anne sagged against the wall and closed her eyes. You can do this, Anne, and if the unwelcome attraction you felt towards Nicholas Blackwell from the moment you met is to forever be buried deep inside, so be it.
~* * *~
Refreshed by the short rest that had followed the painful conversation with Maggie, her hair tidied and gown changed, Anne waited impatiently for Nicholas to return. She had thought of him as Nicholas almost from the first and saw no reason now to fight against the informality. Telling Bill of her intention had not been as difficult as expected, which she felt was due more to Maggie than any argument of Anne’s. While obviously not pleased, he had agreed to support her. At least partly, she suspected, because he viewed getting to England as the major and most important issue right now. Maggie, bless her, had refrained from any further comment at all and Anne sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for being blessed with the love and friendship of these dear people.
Agitated, her stomach churning with nerves, Anne took another turn around the small room. Perhaps she should wait outside. Inside, outside, which was better? A short laugh escaped her. Here she was, fretting over such a paltry thing like some lunatic. He would arrive when he arrived. Stay here and sit down with your book. She was about to do so when she heard the creak of the gate and the murmur of voices. A short exchange with Maggie that she couldn’t catch, then Blackwell was there in the doorway, dressed more formally than she’d yet seen him, and she was glad she had donned the one dress she owned that was not black or dark blue.
“Miss McKenzie.”
“Anne, please.”
He stepped forward, his expression so carefully noncommittal that she had the fleeting urge to change her mind.
“Have you come to a decision…Anne?”
Not sure whether she felt pleased or harried at his immediacy, Anne paused to gather her thoughts, and then said slowly, “I am inclined to accept your proposal, sir, strange as it seems right now. I do, however, have some questions before making a final decision.”
“And they are?”
“You have proposed taking five strangers into your household, Mr. Blackwell. You do realize the Fentons will stay with me?” At his brief nod, Anne continued. “This will of necessity cause a major disruption in your life. It can hardly be otherwise. Have you given this consideration? If nothing else, you will be expected to stand somewhat as a father to the Durants. Are you prepared—willing—to do so?”
His eyes narrowed and he viewed her with a contemplative expression that made her stiffen. Surely he had already given this some thought.
“I am. Above all, Danielle and Guy need a home where they can feel safe and cared for, which with your help, I can provide. The transition for all of us may be difficult at times, yes, but I believe the advantages worth it.”
The quiet answer held both approval and respect. Anne felt something ease inside her. “Very well, sir. I am willing. I do, however, feel you should be made aware of my reasons for being here in Portugal.” Did relief flicker in his eyes? Surely it was her imagination, and indeed, his next comment was close to a dismissal.
“Unless you are a murderess, it is not necessary at the moment. I’m afraid I must leave immediately to call at the Consulate to make arrangements for the ceremony. They will know of an English minister or chaplain, and I need to notify the ship’s captain of our departure. Can you be ready to leave within a few days?”
He at least had the grace to look apologetic, Anne thought, disheartened by his apparent indifference to the importance of the occasion. Unorthodox though his proposal was, she had expected a little more attention to her acceptance of marriage!
“If need be.” A short answer, and who could blame her? But something of her disappointment reached him, for he smiled—a real smile that made her pulse quicken, and he touched her arm lightly.
“I’ve treated you quite shabbily, haven’t I? You deserve better, and I hope you will excuse me for it.”
Disconcerted, she stared at him, all her prepared speech flown out the window.
“Of course,” she managed.
He stepped back, walked to the door and paused, half turning to look at her. “Oh, and Anne? I am pleased.”
Then he was gone, the squeak of the gate sounded and Anne sank into her chair. It could be worse, Anne. He might not be pleased!
~* * *~
Blackwell was pleased that Anne had accepted, although he was still in a state of bewilderment that he had even made her the offer of marriage. He was even more astonished that he felt grateful she’d agreed! What the devil have you gotten into, Westcott? You don’t want a wife. After Camille….The vision of his first and only love danced into his head, intrusive—and unwanted. His beautiful, elfin wife, with an effervescent spirit that frothed like the best champagne, who could charm the birds from the trees. Unless you denied her something she wanted. Blackwell closed the door on any more memories. He had other concerns right now. Chiefly, locating the Lady Gay and telling Carlisle of the situation.
With a silent apology to his valet, Blackwell picked his way through the debris littering the streets along the waterfront. The Lady Gay was moored some distance out from the last pier—the furthest, he noted with annoyance. Now it just needed her captain to be carousing in some brothel somewhere.
Not Jasper, Blackwell amended immediately. The Captain seldom dallied with the ladies available in port, citing his aversion to any number of unwelcome diseases. The seaman stationed at the dock confirmed that Carlisle was on board and cheerfully rowed him out to the ship. The man steadied the ladder until Blackwell was safely over the rail, agreed to return in an hour, and whistling a jaunty air, went back to the docks.
Carlisle was on deck to greet him with a slap on the shoulder that almost sent him over the side. Blackwell frowned as he recovered his balance.
“Confound it, Carlisle. I’ve no yen for a wetting.”
Carlisle grinned, unabashed. “Especially not in that water! Good to see you, my friend. I hope this means we will soon be on our way? My cargo is loaded, and my crew has had a reasonably uneventful shore leave. Any longer, and they will be finding trouble.”
Since he knew that any of Carlisle’s crew who went out looking for trouble was likely to be told off the ship, Blackwell ignored the comment. “Soon, I hope. There have been some complications.” This was such an understatement that he shook his head and sent Carlisle a taut smile.
“You will think I’ve taken leave of my senses when I tell you the whole of it.” He looked around, noted the crew busy at their tasks, and jerked his head toward the forecastle. “Come below. I want a drink, and we need privacy.
“Did you find the girl?” Carlisle asked once they were settled at the table in his cabin with glasses in hand.
“Oh, I found her right enough. Getting to her without her stepfather knowing of it was another matter.” Blackwell paused for a moment, briefly entertained the thought of editing the tale, decided against it just as quickly, and began to relate all that had happened since he disembarked.
Other than a question or two, Carlisle sat silent, with only an infrequent flick of surprise crossing his face. That will change, Blackwell thought with dark amusement as he neared the end of the story. He took a sip of his whiskey. “Miss Mackenzie has agreed to marry me.”
“The devil you say!”
Carlisle’s roar echoed around the cabin and Blackwell winced. “I believe I was quite clear. I plan to marry, at the Consulate, if it can be so arranged—tomorrow or the following day—and I want you to stand
up with me. We will come aboard immediately after and you can sail whenever you see fit to do so.”
“You are mad.” Carlisle stared at him as if he had two heads. “Nick, you know nothing about the woman. What if she is a shrew, or a gad-about—or an…”
“Another Camille? She is not.”
The flat, positive statement was as effective as a shout and Carlisle leaned back, a speculative look in his eyes.
“You cannot possibly be sure of that after a few days’ acquaintance. This is for life, Nick. I hoped you would remarry, try for some happiness, but to see you in another unh…”
“I will not be unhappy. Or happy,” Blackwell cut in sharply. “This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more.” He tossed back the whiskey remaining in his glass and stood.
Carlisle rose as well and stared hard at Blackwell. “Convenient for whom? Why are you doing this, Nick? You could hire a dozen old women as chaperones.”
Carlisle’s mouth was tight with anger and concern, Blackwell realized. The impulse to ignore the questions died. He owed Jasper the truth. “I want her for Sarah. She needs a mother, Jasp. Anne is the most nurturing female I’ve ever met. She will take Sarah to heart just as she has Danielle and her brother.”
“I see.” Carlisle’s mouth drew back in a mirthless smile. “And if they are not enough for her, if she wants a child of her own, what then?”
Blackwell’s gaze fell and he turned away. “It will have to be enough.” His refusal for further discussion must have been apparent, for Carlisle’s reply came as he opened the door.
“Let me know the time and direction for the ceremony.”
Blackwell hesitated, wanting to say something, anything, to reassure Carlisle, whose disapproval had shaken him more than he cared to acknowledge. He settled for a simple, “Thank you.” What was left to say? Nothing that had not already squirreled through his head. What the devil are you going to do with a wife and two children, all of them virtually strangers? How will Sarah feel about having other children in the house? What will your friends and neighbors think of this sudden marriage? Unanswerable questions, all. Nevertheless, he was determined on this course, for better or worse.
An Inconvenient Wife Page 8