The Brideship Wife

by Leslie Howard

  I nodded, and he removed his hand from my mouth.

  “Please, don’t do this,” I pleaded. “Charles said—”

  “What? You think just because you are Charles’s sister-in-law that makes you something? You have nothing to your name. Everyone knows your father was just a feckless dreamer who lost his fortune. If I marry anyone, it will be an heiress, not some penniless old maid like you.”

  My fear hardened into a burning anger as the failings of my family were once again thrown in my face. I was so sick of people’s judgements, the mocking, the entitlement to treat me however they pleased. I felt feverish as a deep animal rage stirred within me. It propelled me to action.

  I let out a fierce yell and drove my head deep into George’s soft, protruding belly.

  “Good Christ, what are you doing?” he wheezed, clutching for my hands, but I wrestled them free and grabbed the fleshy area below his male organ.

  He gasped. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Stop it, you stupid cow.”

  I squeezed hard, and he shrieked and clawed at my hands, but I held fast, twisting further. He continued to flail until we both tumbled off the bed and onto the floor, my grip broken at last.

  I struggled to my feet, but George remained curled on the floor, whimpering. I pulled at my clothing and stumbled out of the cabin into the dark night, breathing hard. In spite of the warm evening, I felt a cold shiver down my spine. How long had we been here? Surely people would begin to notice our absence, if they hadn’t already. My reputation, my one thing of value, was in grave danger. One hint of what had occurred tonight would be the ruin of me. And Harriet. I had to get back to the party.

  I heard George moaning inside the cabin as I set off running in the direction of the dock, tripping over low bushes and uneven ground. A sharp stick pierced my shoe, burying itself in my big toe, but I pushed on, limping, until I found the boat. I began to untie the rope, then pulled myself up short. If I attempted to row myself to the main dock, people would see me with my torn and dishevelled clothing. There would be no disguising my misadventure.

  Hot tears threatened to overwhelm me, but I fought them back. Turning towards the cottage, I peered hard into the darkness, looking for any sign of movement, but I saw and heard nothing except the distant sound of the party, where the guests’ lives continued on, untouched by the evil that threatened me. I caught a snatch of sound, the echo of my sister’s voice, calling cheerfully to an old friend.

  Then I remembered something Hari had said about the boats and why she only brought them out at parties for the guests to use. In summers, there was no need of boats; the island could be accessed on foot by a narrow land bridge that snaked from the northernmost point of the island to a spot on the mainland around the back of the house, near the servants’ entrance. This time of year, the land bridge was covered with a few inches of water.

  The festive lanterns that had delighted me at the beginning of the evening were now my godsend, and I used their light to find the beginning of the land bridge, a line of large, flat stones protruding from the lake. I managed to hop from one to the next until, landing on one that was partly submerged, I lost my footing and flipped backwards into the bracing water. I struggled to my feet, standing shin-deep in the lake, my hair ribbons plastered to my nose and chin, and continued on, taking great care with each step not to repeat my plunge.

  It was not long before my foot struck the mainland shore. Hoisting my sodden skirts around me, I moved quickly across the slippery grass path that led from the water to the back of the great house. Light poured from the windows of almost every room in the vast mansion, forcing me to hide in the shadows of a holly hedge. From there, I could see the back end of the servants’ wing, but how would I get in unnoticed?

  As I watched, the large wooden door by the kitchen opened and Sandwell emerged on his way to the patio, but a doorstop prevented it from closing all the way behind him. I shrank back into the darkness, waiting to see if anyone followed him, testing a story in my mind.

  If I were discovered, I would make light of it all. I’d tell them that I had been out for a rowboat ride with Charles’s dear friend, Mr. Chalmers, that I insisted he row me over to pick a flower from a lily pad, but I leaned too far over the water and I upset the boat. I’d paint George gallantly, and excuse myself to get cleaned up.

  If I can somehow carry this off, I thought, I’ll marry whatever suitor Harriet wants me to. All would not be lost.

  I pressed on with renewed confidence. I knew the back staircase was just off the kitchen and would be a hive of activity as the servants prepared the midnight meal. Lucky for me they would be focused on their work.

  I could hear the clanging of pots and pans by the kitchen, then: “Look here, who’s out there?”

  I froze. It was Harriet’s chief of housekeeping.

  “I don’t care who you are, or if you think yourself too fancy to help out in the kitchen. Get yourself an apron and get to work. Be quick about it!”

  How did she know I was there? I realized too late that the light in the hallway cast my shadow on the nearly opaque glass of the kitchen door. I made a run for the stairs, just rounding the first landing when the kitchen door creaked open.

  “You upstairs maids think you’re too bloody good for us, don’t you?” she called after me. “Mr. Sandwell will hear about this, be sure of it!”

  What was left of my shoes and stockings was wet and slippery, and I gripped the bannister as I vaulted the stairs two and three at a time. I thought of my mother, scolding me for this habit. “You don’t behave as a lady should, what with running wild on the estate all day. You’ve not learned polite manners.”

  If I was to remain a lady, sacrifices had to be made, I decided wryly, as I sprinted in a most unladylike manner down the hall to my room. I opened the door and flung myself inside. I had done it. Leaning back, I shut my eyes and caught my breath. I had made it back without encountering a soul.

  “Oh, miss, it’s you. You gave me quite a start!”

  My eyes flashed open and I saw Jane, Harriet’s abigail, standing at my dressing table, my paste-glass necklace hanging limply from her hand, a candle in the other. A bright crimson flush rose quickly up her throat to her cheeks.

  “I… I was just tidying up your dressing table,” she said, quickly depositing my jewellery into my red-lacquered box. “I didn’t expect you back from the party till much later.”

  With her back to me, she made a show of straightening the few objects on the dresser top, but I didn’t care. I just needed her to go.

  “That’s fine, Jane,” I said. “You can leave that for now. I heard the kitchen is looking for help, so perhaps you should see what you can do there.”

  “Surely I can be of some assistance to you here, miss. Do you need your hair brushed or perhaps a dab of powder on your face?” She turned towards me, holding the candle high. A look of shock crossed her face. “If you don’t mind me saying so, miss, you could do with more than just a dab of powder.”

  “I must look frightful, but a quick change of clothes and I’ll rejoin the party,” I said as lightly as I could. “I had a small accident with one of the rowboats, my own silly fault, leaned too far out to pluck a lily flower. You can fetch me a new gown. The lilac one will do nicely.”

  “But your face, miss—there’s…” She motioned to the mirror.

  We stepped forward, she beside me, observing my reflection, the candle close. The angry imprint of a hand was clearly visible on my face. I saw the light come into her eyes as it faded from mine. She knew my story was false. The whispers would start soon. How far they would go, I didn’t know.

  Chapter Five

  Two days after the party, the mark on my face had faded and I had concealed any remaining evidence with powder. My head was still sore, but that wasn’t what troubled me most. George’s face haunted my dreams, and I was afraid to close my eyes at night because I would see him looming over me. In my waking hours, my mind kept replaying what had happened. Where h
ad he gone afterwards? Had he said anything?

  I’d seen no sign that the story of my ragged appearance had gone further than some of the servants’ pointed looks my way, and I held on to the fantasy that if I didn’t say anything, it hadn’t really happened. I wanted everything to be normal again, for life to go on much as it had before, though I didn’t know what that meant for Harriet’s plans to wed me to George. Even if he did want me, I could never marry him after what he’d done.

  As if sensing my internal turmoil, the weather changed dramatically. A heavy, cold mass of air had crept in while we slept, pushing out the balmy hint of an early summer that we had enjoyed the night of the party. I thought of Wiggles’s letter. It was a godsend, a chance to get away, even for an afternoon. Desperation was new for me, but I felt it now. Maybe there would be something to what Wiggles had to tell me, a light or a hope I could cling to. I asked Hari to come with me, but she demurred as she had an appointment with her new doctor in town, Dr. Randolph, though I knew she wouldn’t have come anyway. She often said that I should limit my social engagements to women of our class.

  The morning was chilly, and as Hari and I settled in her coach, I was grateful for the heated bricks that the footman had set out for our feet to rest upon and for the fur-lined rugs we pulled across our laps.

  “Thanks for letting me tag along,” I said as I snuggled deeper under my wrap. “Once you are at your doctor’s, I’ll head directly to visit Wiggles. I haven’t seen her for ages.” I patted my purse to make sure I had brought a book for the journey. I often felt a bit anxious if I didn’t have one with me.

  Harriet mumbled something indistinct and stared unseeing out the window. It wasn’t like her to be so quiet. In fact, now that I thought about it, she had been rather subdued since the party. Had she heard any gossip from the servants? Or did her mood have anything to do with our fraught conversation before the party? In an attempt to draw her out, I asked her about her new doctor. All she had said was that he was from the Continent and up on all the latest medical advancements.

  “You’ve seen quite a lot of Dr. Randolph lately,” I said lightly. “That’s not like you. You’ve always avoided doctors like the plague, ever since that awful time you broke your leg as a child. That was the worst of Papa’s failed investment schemes, don’t you think—the hot-air balloon? I don’t think Mama ever forgave him.”

  Hari shrugged. “I don’t know if that was the worst—just one in a long line.”

  I peered into Harriet’s face. “I hope everything is all right with you.”

  “I’m fine, and I expect to be even better. I’m hoping for good news soon.” She rested a hand on her stomach.

  So that was what was weighing on her. Charles and Hari were finally starting a family, and she was clearly anxious to share glad tidings with him.

  After a pause, Harriet turned to me. “Sandwell came to me this morning.”

  My stomach dropped. “Oh?”

  “He felt it was his duty to inform me of what the servants were saying about you—not to his face, of course, but what they were saying when they thought he wasn’t listening.” Hari searched my eyes intently. “What in God’s name happened between you and George? Did you get carried away with your seduction?”

  “It wasn’t my fault, Harriet. Nothing went the way I expected.”

  “Your instructions were so simple. A kiss, a proposal, not… not whatever it was you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything. It was George.” I felt so ashamed—for getting myself into such a situation, for letting both Hari and Charles down, and for my own vulnerability. “He attacked me, Harriet,” I whispered. “When we were alone together, in the cottage on the island.”

  “How on earth did you end up there? How could you let yourself get into a compromising position like that?”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have, but it all happened so fast. I didn’t have time to react. It was almost as if…” I hesitated. “He planned it.”

  Hari’s face flushed a deep crimson.

  “He said he would never marry a penniless old maid like me.” My throat tightened as I repeated his hateful words.

  “This puts us in a terrible predicament. According to the belowstairs staff, you are of questionable virtue, a woman who wouldn’t hesitate to affix her garter in public, as they say. If this gets around, your reputation will be in shreds. How we’ll find you another suitor, I have no notion.”

  “Does Charles know?” I asked anxiously.

  “No, thank goodness, and we certainly can’t let him get wind of it. He would be furious, and there’s no telling what he might do.” She gripped the blanket and wrung one end into a knot. “Why did this have to happen with George, of all people? It could be disastrous for Charles.”

  “I’m sorry, Hari.” I tried once more to explain, but she just held up the palm of her hand.

  “It doesn’t matter what actually happened. All that matters is that we manage the repercussions. I asked Sandwell to make enquiries, and he reported that George changed his plans and didn’t stay over that night as he intended but left quietly for his country house before the midnight meal was served.”

  I felt new stirrings of hope. “He must want to avoid scandal just as much as we do. Perhaps it will all just blow over if no one fans the flames of gossip.”

  “I am not going to simply cross my fingers and pray it all works out,” Harriet said. “Early in our marriage Charles told me that I am one of the most astute strategists he’s ever known. I’ve already persuaded him to take a few days to unwind at his hunting lodge, where the gossip can’t reach him. But Charlotte, I must know. Did anyone see you?”

  “Jane. She was in my room when I made it back from the island. She’s the source of the rumours.”

  “She will be sent packing immediately. The rest of the staff will take note. And you”—she frowned at me—“will do nothing that could cause the tiniest hint of gossip from now on. You will be the very model of propriety.”

  “I promise.” On this, I was committed.

  “If all goes well, we will weather this storm, and in time I’ll find someone else for you.”

  I knew I should feel grateful, but I felt a twinge of resentment as full control of my future passed to my sister, and part of me was wounded that she showed so little concern for my well-being. Her only real focus seemed to be how this could affect Charles and his political prospects, but I was starting to realize that my welfare was wrapped up in Charles’s. Hari was looking out for me, just as she’d done after our parents’ deaths and through all the family’s financial troubles. I had to trust her now.

  Chapter Six

  An hour later, I arrived at our old family estate after dropping Harriet off at Dr. Randolph’s. My mood lightened at the prospect of an afternoon of tea and a chat with my dear governess Wiggles. She had no family, so our father had given her a life interest in a small cottage in return for her years of service. We were passing the rose garden, about to make a right-hand turn off the main driveway towards the cottage, when I spotted my cousin Edward, pruning shears in hand. He waved us down.

  I had vowed not to visit Edward. I knew I wasn’t being fair to Edward and his wife, Prunella—that my distaste for them was influenced by the fact that, after my father’s death, Edward had inherited my childhood home: the twenty-room manor house and surrounding three-hundred-acre farm, the formal gardens, the stables, and all the livestock.

  In my heart, though, I knew my feelings were unfounded. I continually avoided blaming the one person whose actions were behind the downfall of my family: my father. He was the one who squandered his large inheritance and left our estate to Edward. His actions drove my mother to gamble, created the need for Hari to marry well, and forced me to try to make a decent marriage with no dowry. The sight of Edward, in what should have been my garden, was a painful reminder of all of that. My coach came to a halt.

  “Why, Cousin Charlotte! Just the person I wanted to have a word with. How perfect
. This saves me sending for you.”

  “Lovely to see you, Edward, but I’m on my way to visit Miss Wiggins—not much time.”

  I hoped my apologetic smile would carry the day, but he opened the coach door and held it firmly. “This will only take a minute.”

  I could see no alternative than to step out with him into the garden. It annoyed me to see that he and I resembled each other. There was a look that ran through our family: freckled, reddish-blond colouring, tall, with long limbs and a tendency to carry a little extra weight.

  At least I have all my hair, I thought.

  Edward’s prize roses had been smartly clipped in time for the warm growing season ahead. It was hard to imagine the feathery beauty that these prickly stumps had so frivolously exposed to the world last summer. Now the severely pared-back bushes stood in neat rows like little soldiers at attention, awaiting further orders.

  “You know I’m not one to mince words,” Edward began. “I’ll get straight to the point. I’ve been told you haven’t garnered a single marriage proposal since your coming-out three years ago. You know you’re getting up in years, don’t you? Not much hope now, I reckon.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept talking.

  “Prunella’s been at me. ‘We have a duty,’ she says, ‘a Christian duty, to offer charity where it’s needed, especially when it’s family.’ I don’t hold much with that sentiment, mind you. I’ve never asked for a handout, but the wife won’t let it rest.”

  I studied his face, looking for some awareness that he had inherited all that should have gone to Hari and me, but found none.