The Brideship Wife

by Leslie Howard

  I didn’t understand why Charles had taken such an interest in these children, but this was not the time to ask in front of the maid. “Anything I can do to help.”

  “Thank you. Now, I must change my gown.” In a flurry of lace and perfume, she was off. The maid followed her out, leaving me alone with Belle.

  “What a mess. What are we going to do?” I asked the little pup. She didn’t answer, just looked at me with her big brown eyes and licked my cheek.

  After I freshened up my gown, I went to the small dining room and studied the name cards on the table so I could greet my charges by their Christian names. A friendly gesture, I thought, and one that would help make the evening run smoothly. Positioned at the head of the little table was Master James. Master Donald’s chair was on James’s right, and Master Neal, clearly the youngest with an extra pillow on his seat, was on the left. The fourth spot—mine, I realized—was a dark corner beside the glass-panelled French door that led off the main dining room.

  The boys soon came tumbling in, along with their mother.

  “You must be Mrs. Sledge,” I said. We had not been formally introduced, so I was not sure of the proper etiquette. I cautiously offered my hand, and we briefly shook.

  I took the opportunity to study her closely. She was small and dark haired with a flawless, milky complexion and an open expression on her face. Young to be a mother of three.

  “And you must be Miss Harding,” she said with a slightly apologetic tone. “Charles, I mean Mr. Baldwin, told me you were good enough to offer to watch my children during dinner. I was happy to leave them at home with their nanny, but Cha—Mr. Baldwin insisted I bring them. He’s so terribly fond of them.”

  Her earnest manner caught me off guard. Still, I wondered at the impropriety of her having had tea alone with Charles. “You’ve brought them here before, then?”

  “Well, no, Mr. Baldwin has met them on other occasions.” She looked down at her children and kissed each of them on the forehead, admonishing them to be good little boys and eat their dinners. She turned back to me. “I’m sure your sister will become fond of my boys in time too.”

  I didn’t have time to dwell on what she meant, as other guests began to arrive and she was drawn into the dining room. I surveyed the brood of boys with some misgivings. Master James, with dark curls like his mother, immediately assumed an air of authority, directing the other children to their seats.

  “How are we to address you, madam, and when will dinner be served and what is for dinner?” he asked, all in one breath.

  “You may address me as Miss Charlotte, and in answer to your other questions, I don’t know.”

  They appeared slightly put out that I couldn’t provide the prized information regarding dinner. Little, fair-haired Neal decided to take me on.

  “Why are we to call you Miss? Why aren’t you a Mrs., like Mama? Only little girls are called Miss, aren’t they? And you’re not a little girl, that’s for sure. How old are you anyway?”

  “I’m a Miss because I’m not married, and it is not polite to ask a lady her age, Master Neal.”

  “My mama isn’t married anymore because Papa died. He was much older than Mama. He was very old, and that’s why he died. Are you going to die soon?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Neal. Don’t be such a dolt,” James said. “You can’t ask people that.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s rude.”

  “Is not.”

  With that, Neal got up from his chair, walked over to James, and hit him in the shoulder. James punched him back, and Neal burst into tears. This was what it would be like all the time, I thought with a shiver, if I took care of Edward’s five children. I said a silent prayer that I would never be forced into that position.

  “Boys, boys, settle down,” I said as I pulled them apart and reseated Neal on his chair. The last thing I needed was for Charles to hear the commotion and come to investigate.

  Thankfully, Cook had had the presence of mind to feed the children first, and moments later the servants arrived bearing a wonderful array of food specially prepared to appeal to small boys. There were little pork pies with images of bunnies and ducks carved into their crusts and battered cod with slices of deep-fried potatoes, a new culinary trend. During their meal, the silence was interrupted only by their occasional requests for help cutting or buttering bread.

  Meanwhile, the noise level from the dining room had risen to a steady hum. Crystal glasses chimed as the servants cleared away the first course and set down the roast pheasant, but I could make out Charles’s voice. It was slow and careful, verging on pedantic.

  “I have a clear vision of the path this country and the empire should be on,” he was saying. “We can’t yield to the bloody isolationists. Colonization is the only way forward. We do the world a great favour. What could be better than British know-how? We are superior at most things, by far.”

  Who was he talking to? I peered through the gap behind the door. The backs of those at the head of the table were only a few feet from my hidden seat. I recognized the back of Charles’s head, of course, with its bald spot carefully combed over. On his right, I saw the grizzled silver hair of his uncle, Lord Ainsley. I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the lady on his left; I couldn’t quite make her out at first. I thought it likely to be Lady Margaret but was startled to see the thick black hair and milky skin of Mrs. Sledge. Why did she have such an honoured seat? And where was Harriet?

  I leaned back, a little precariously, on two legs of my chair, scanning the faces at the far end of the table. There she was. Instead of chatting to the guest on her right, as etiquette would dictate, she was staring, unabashedly, at the head of the table. She looked even paler than she did before dinner.

  “Miss Charlotte!”

  I almost lost my balance and overcorrected, the front legs of my chair landing on the floor with a loud thud. There was a pause in the main room before the conversation resumed.

  “Yes, Donald. What is it?”

  “What are we having for the pudding course? And when is it coming?”

  “I don’t know, but we can find out.” I made my way over to the writing desk in the corner where the capsule pipeline was installed. “Let me show you the very latest in technology that our host has installed for our comfort.” I scribbled a note on a scrap of paper. “You see, all I have to do is write my question, put it in the round cylinder, and…” I opened the small brass door in the wall beside the desk and placed the canister through the opening. With a loud swoosh, the canister was snatched from my hand and sucked into the vacuum.

  “Ohhhh,” the boys said in unison.

  “Cook will be sending her note back directly.”

  The three sets of small eyes grew rounder as we waited in hushed silence for a few moments until a rattling in the tube told me my return note had arrived. I opened the little brass door and the cylinder popped out into my hand.

  Opening the note, I read, “ ‘Thank you for your note, miss. The pudding will be chocolate, and there’ll be apple cake with caramel sauce. Paul will bring it up directly.’ ” I added my own postscript: “Dessert is reserved for those little boys who have eaten at least half the food on their dinner plates.”

  The boys dove for their seats and attacked their plates.

  It was not long after the dessert course that, with immense relief, I welcomed the presence of our butler, Sandwell. He ceremoniously entered our little den and, bowing, announced that the carriage had arrived to take the boys and their mother home, as it was long past the young masters’ bedtime. He ushered them into the main dining room to say their good nights.

  I watched through the door crack as Mary rose from her seat and herded her sons over to where Lord Ainsley sat. Charles stepped in and formally introduced them to his uncle. Each child, the perfect model of propriety, bowed slightly and shook the older man’s hand. After a few minutes of observing from afar, Hari stood and walked the length of the room to join the grou
p. With what seemed an afterthought, Charles introduced her to the boys. I saw her nod to each in turn, a forced smile on her face. Mary and her brood soon left, and I watched Hari wander back to her seat. I wished I was there to console her.

  Settling back down, I noticed the youngest, Neal, had left part of his apple cake, and I didn’t hesitate to pull it across the table towards me.

  “Lovely young lads, a credit to their mother,” I heard Lord Ainsley say. I put down my fork. Now that the children were gone, I could hear the conversation at the head of the table even more clearly.

  “They’re fine boys. I know them well, and I wanted you to get a chance to meet them,” Charles replied.

  “Three healthy sons. Some women are blessed. How I wished my Margaret would have been. How long have you been married now?”

  “Three years.”

  There was a pause before Lord Ainsley spoke again. “You know I’m ready to make my will and pass the baton on to you. No other real choice since your cousin Jeffrey married the daughter of a merchant, of all the idiot things.”

  I heard Charles chortle.

  “But surely your wife understands? She won’t become Lady Harriet until she does her duty by you.”

  Charles’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. I gingerly rose from my chair and stood next to the gap in the door. Scanning the room for Hari, I wondered if she had observed the two men with their heads bent in serious conversation. She was oblivious, I saw, her attention taken up by the butler who was asking for direction on some matter.

  “Uncle, I’ve just had a thought,” Charles said. “We could go about this another way. If Harriet doesn’t give me a son, what if I were to adopt those boys as my own? I’ve seen this sort of thing done in other aristocratic families. Would you be satisfied? An heir and two spares.”

  The last comment was like a splash of cold water in my face. So this was why Charles was having tea at Mrs. Sledge’s. Oh, my poor sister. I felt my heart ache for her. She had enough of her own problems without adding mine into the mix.

  “I could see that the boys’ mother would likely agree, but you might find yourself married to a scorned woman,” Lord Ainsley said. “Harriet could make you very unhappy.”

  “Harriet would see the light. She’s as ambitious as I am.”

  Lord Ainsley studied Charles for a moment. “If something should ever happen to you, dear boy, I would rest easy knowing the line of succession for my legacy had been established, but the title is another matter; the successor must be blood, unless we could successfully petition the Committee of Privileges.”

  “I know that, Uncle, but one step at a time. First the adoption and then the petition—and I do have connections on the committee, by the way.” Charles gently touched his glass to his uncle’s. “To our heirs.”

  “To our heirs,” Lord Ainsley replied.

  My heart was thumping in my chest as I ran up the back stairs to my room. I had no idea what committee they were speaking of, but Charles had clearly been working on a plan to make these boys his heirs for some time. How much did Hari know? I thought over her comments that day in the carriage. She must suspect. No wonder she looked unwell. If Hari was not the mother of Charles’s heirs, she would become a grass widow with a tainted title. No doubt Charles would want to launch these boys into society and take them everywhere he could, and the children would want their mother by their side. They would form a family with Hari and me on the outside. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Chapter Ten

  “No!” I awoke to the sound of my own voice and sat upright in my bed. I blinked hard several times, and the image of George’s face evaporated in the darkness of my bedroom. It was just another dream. Belle stirred next to me, then settled back down.

  I lit a candle to check the timepiece that hung from a clasp on my chest. Midnight. I must have fallen asleep waiting for Harriet to return to her room—I was still fully clothed. The memory of Charles’s words to Lord Ainsley came rushing back along with a new, more intense anxiety about the future, both mine and Hari’s.

  I needed to have a long heart-to-heart with my sister as soon as possible. Surely she would become pregnant before long, especially with the help of her new doctor, but in the meantime, we had to find a way to buy more time. If I could make a decent match with someone else with political influence, perhaps that would please Charles. In a benevolent mood, he would be more patient, and I suspected that a happy, relaxed couple would be more likely to conceive a child. Then he would have everything he wanted—a title and a place in cabinet. And Harriet’s position would remain unchallenged.

  My mind swimming, I stood up and wandered to the window. A bold full moon hung low on the horizon, defying the night’s darkness by casting light where none would normally be. The estate’s beautifully manicured lawns, which ran from the front gate to the house, stretched out in gentle, light-frosted waves before me. This really was the most splendid home in the county. Was Charles planning for the boys to live here? Hari had so much to lose if Charles decided he had no more need of her and sent her to live in one of the cottages.

  There was a movement in the distance. The moonlight reflected off a polished surface that appeared to bob and weave with slow but steady progress. It must be a carriage. But at this hour?

  As the vehicle rounded the semicircle driveway it came to a stop, not at the main door to the house but off to the right, and a rather stout figure lowered himself stiffly to the ground. I strained to make out who this nocturnal caller was but shadows obscured his face. He walked towards the seldom-used side entry, just as a light came on in Charles’s study.

  “No rest for the wicked,” I murmured under my breath.

  What business did Charles have at this hour? Was it something to do with Harriet? Or was Charles planning something else? I padded downstairs to see what I could find out.

  I stopped outside the closed double doors leading to Charles’s study, careful not to let my feet cast a shadow, and listened intently, but the solid oak doors had been built with someone like me in mind. I couldn’t hear a thing. After a few minutes I gave up. In frustration, I shoved my hands in my pockets and found the note that Cook had sent me earlier. I stared at it for a moment. The capsule pipeline. It was worth a try.

  As quietly as I could, I made my way down the back stairs to the kitchen. The full moon bathed the room in sufficient semi-light that I didn’t need candles. I saw the bright copper cylinder lying on Cook’s desk, and I glanced up at the small brass door in the wall above. The opening led to a network of vacuum hoses that connected the kitchen to the dining rooms, the morning room, the main drawing room, and Charles’s study. If the vacuum door was open in the study, I might be able to hear some of his conversation. As quietly as I could, I opened the kitchen vacuum door.

  Charles’s voice filled the kitchen instantly. He had to be sitting at his desk, right next to the opening.

  “She did what? I knew nothing of this.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Was the stranger a messenger from George? I couldn’t tell. His voice was muffled, as he was some distance from the open vacuum-tube door.

  “After all I’ve done for that family! I’ve given them everything.” I could almost feel the heat of Charles’s words, see his red face deepening into an unhealthy shade of purple.

  The other speaker must have moved as his voice came through clear as day. It was George. I felt dizzy all of a sudden and gripped the edge of the desk. He must be telling Charles everything.

  “This will be your downfall, Charles. You must take care of it once and for all if you hope to have a political career with a seat in cabinet.”

  “Of course. You’re right.” Charles’s voice was subdued, pleading almost. “She has a cousin outside London, I could send—”

  “She’s only part of the problem.” George continued to speak at length, but he’d moved off, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  “I understand what must be done,” Charles fin
ally said. “It’s the only way. Thank you for coming directly to me with this. I’ll be forever in your debt.”

  I stood there in the kitchen for a long while after I heard the men leave the study. My fate had been decided. I only hoped that I could persuade Charles that Harriet was innocent in all this. As for me, I would ask to go live with Edward. It was the only way to protect Harriet from my scandal.

  After a fitful night, I rose and knocked on Harriet’s door, but she was gone. To the doctor’s, I remembered. Perhaps it was better that she wasn’t here to see Charles’s anger. With a sense of foreboding, I went downstairs for breakfast. Charles was planted at the head of the dining table, the Times spread out in front of him.

  “Good morning,” I murmured.

  I sensed him watching me as I made my way along the sideboard dabbing a spoonful from each platter. My mouth felt like I had just bitten into a lemon, and my stomach tightened at the sight of the food. I kept my eyes lowered as I sat down. The feathery white bread that I slathered with chunks of melting butter tasted like cardboard. Charles eyed my plate and moved the butter crock to the far side of the table.

  “I’ve received some news about you that has deeply troubled me.”

  I knew it was hopeless, but I had to at least try and convince him of the truth. “Charles, let me explain,” I said.

  “What were you thinking?” His voice rose an octave as he set his teacup down with force. “Inviting George’s physical affections so you could threaten him and claim he took advantage of your innocence. Force the marriage through blackmail. How gullible do you think George is? How stupid are you?”

  It was exactly the lie George said he would tell, and yet I was still surprised. “That’s not what happened. I wasn’t trying to blackmail him.”

  “Don’t try to deny it. I saw the letter, and he told me how you ambushed him at the club, demanding an agreement to settle the whole affair once and for all.”

  “No, please, hear me out.”

  He ignored my protests. “And I question Harriet’s hand in this whole affair as well. How could she go behind my back like that?”