The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  Mary squeezed Ambrose’s arm, and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Gazing at him, she filled her eyes with all the unspoken things that were larger and more complex than words could describe. His smile softened, and he brought his hand over to rest on hers.

  Chapter 17

  Standing outside the parlor door, Conrad shifted from foot to foot, his novel moving between his free hands. The hallway was poky and dark, serving an entirely utilitarian function with little thought to light or air, which generally suited him quite well, but at present, it was suffocating.

  This was ridiculous. Conrad shook his head at himself, as though that might clear away the fretful energy buzzing through him. It wasn’t unusual for a husband to join his wife in the parlor—except he’d never done so during the day. Their unspoken routine had been tacitly agreed upon, and shifting things away from that presented possible avenues for contention and tears.

  Not allowing himself another moment to fret, Conrad strode through the doorway as though he hadn’t been lurking outside it for several quiet minutes.

  An embroidery hoop sat on Ruby’s lap, and she glanced up from the fine stitches in the cloth. Her fingers paused in their work as she watched him, her eyes widening.

  “Is something amiss at the mill?” she asked.

  Conrad shifted his weight to his other foot. “Quite the opposite. Matters are quiet at present, and Father is there today, so I thought I might take the morning off and join you here.”

  She straightened, and a soft smile drew her lips upward. “That would be lovely.”

  Knocking the novel against his thigh, Conrad let out a silent breath and gave her a responding grin. With a few quick movements, she gathered up a few lingering needle cases and spools of embroidery thread into her sewing box and set it on the floor beside her feet, and Conrad took her unspoken invitation and sat beside her on the sofa.

  Ruby retrieved her needle once more and worked it through the fabric with steady movements, her threads following the faint lines sketched onto the pristine white. Though Conrad opened his book, he watched her work while Ruby cast discreet looks in his direction. Her fingers moved quickly, though the stitches grew slowly across the linen, and it surprised him just how much time it would take to fill the fabric.

  His eyes traced the lines of a broad river cutting through a field with ancient trees edging the water. A roadway filled with people and carts snaked along its side, and barges floated through the blue, but the focal point was the island; in the middle sat a massive castle that was little more than a square with towers sprouting from the corners.

  “‘On either side the river lie,’” murmured Ruby, “‘Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro’ the field the road runs by…’”

  “‘To many-tower’d Camelot.’” Conrad smiled, noticing the sketch of a grander castle in the distance. “Tennyson.”

  Ruby straightened the embroidery hoop, holding it at a distance. “The Lady of Shalott is not one of my favorite stories, but Tennyson’s imagery and language are enchanting, and I thought it would be a challenge to render it with needle and thread.”

  As she spoke, Conrad’s eyes traveled to the now bare walls. Ruby had hung a few of her pieces during “the incident” but had removed them before he’d had the opportunity to examine them. His chest tightened as his gaze fell to the rag doll on the mantle that served as the only bit of ornamentation in the room; it stared back with judgmental eyes.

  Conrad got to his feet, and Ruby gave him a curious glance before returning her attention to her work. He walked to the fireplace and picked up the doll, its soft limbs and head wiggling as he took it in hand. Though he’d been in this room many times since that awful scene during the first weeks of their marriage, Conrad hadn’t noticed the doll, except to note its continued presence. Now, he saw clear signs of repair. A torn seam had been meticulously stitched. The fraying threads of blue that served as her eyes had been replaced. The fabric had been cleaned. The work was delicate and perfect; mending without altering the doll’s essence.

  It was such a little thing, but Ruby had done it without fanfare or request—even after he’d acted an ogre. More attributes to add to the list of that which he admired in his wife. Conrad could not understand how he had not noticed them before, but the more he looked, the more he found.

  *

  Ruby stared at the stitches, thinking through the poem that inspired them. As a young girl, she’d adored the story of Elaine, the fabled Lady of Shalott. Like so many tales of Camelot and the knights of old, it was filled with drama and love. Tragedy, too, but that only lent the romance more power. To fall in love in an instant and sacrifice all to be with him seemed a romantic ideal to her adolescent heart.

  But that which was so inspirational once upon a time now chilled Ruby’s heart as she contemplated the heartbreaking truth to Elaine’s tale: the lady surrendered all for a man she desperately loved and was met with destruction. Even Lancelot’s reaction to Elaine’s funeral barge running aground beside him felt all too familiar—though at least he took a moment to admire the Lady of Shalott’s beauty, even if he did not understand the pain he’d caused.

  “I never did explain its importance, did I?” asked Conrad, though his tone said he knew the answer without her response.

  With her mind wrapped up in Elaine’s story and their shared pain, Ruby did not understand him at first. Glancing from her embroidery hoop, she found her husband standing before the fireplace with the little rag doll in hand.

  “But then, I never did properly apologize for behaving as I did that day, either.” Coming over, Conrad sat beside her once more. “She belonged to Susie Thompson, whose parents worked at the mill when I was a child. We were playmates.”

  Conrad chuckled and gave Ruby a wry smile. “They lived not far from here, and I panicked my nursemaid and mother on more than one occasion by sneaking away to see her.”

  Thumb brushing against the doll’s chest, Conrad’s expression saddened. “But the mill took a turn for the worse, and we were forced to let go of a significant portion of our workers—including the Thompson family. They were forced to move some miles away, and though we had outgrown our toys, Susie gave me her doll as a keepsake, and I gave her one of my toy soldiers in return.”

  There was something in his tone that gave Ruby pause. A niggling feeling of dread shivered down her spine, and though she suspected the unhappy conclusion of Conrad’s tale, Ruby asked the question anyway.

  “Did you ever see her again?”

  Conrad turned his attention from the doll and met Ruby’s gaze with sad eyes. “Few were hiring in those days, and her family couldn’t find work. They managed to survive for a while, but cholera swept through town and claimed them all.”

  Ruby’s heart grew heavy beneath that confession, and it ached for the poor Thompsons who’d been struck down and the gentleman sitting beside her who still mourned them.

  “You blame yourself for her passing,” she said, noticing the tightness in his shoulders as he stared at the doll in his hand.

  Conrad shook his head. “At first, perhaps, but not anymore. If not for Father’s actions, the mill would’ve been lost, and far more would’ve been in the Thompsons’ situation.”

  “But you fear it may happen again,” she said, feeling her way to the answer.

  Straightening, Conrad’s dark eyes met hers. “I cannot guarantee the safety of my workers, but I should be able to guarantee them the wages they need to feed their children, put a roof over their heads, and send for a doctor when they are ill. The mill was not prepared to weather difficulties at that time, and the Thompsons were made to suffer. I will not allow that to happen again.”

  “I am so terribly sorry, Conrad,” she said, but he shook his head and gave her a sad smile.

  “I did not tell you that story to garner sympathy. I wished to explain myself, though I know there is no excuse for how I treated you. Rather than simply telling you
why I treasure this doll, I shouted and railed when I saw it missing. That was unjust of me.”

  Her gaze dropped away, her cheeks heating. “It was nothing—”

  “Do not pretend you were unharmed by my words and actions. I only hope you will forgive me for it.”

  Breath catching, Ruby wondered what she ought to say. A quick acceptance came readily to her lips, but there was such determination in Conrad’s eyes, as though he would take it as an affront if she responded hastily. But just the thought that it mattered so much to him sent a warm flush through her, and she was able to answer with all sincerity.

  “I forgive you.”

  Conrad reached for her hand, but as he did so, he bumped a needle case balanced on her knee, tossing it to the floor and scattering its contents onto the rug. But when Ruby reached down to help him collect them, Conrad shrugged her off.

  “It is my mess to clean,” he said, tucking them back into the box. “It seems that a lady who is mad about sewing ought to have a proper sewing table.”

  “I do,” she said, the answer coming quickly to her lips before she thought better of it.

  Conrad’s brows rose as he handed her the box of needles. “Are your parents sending it soon? Will it arrive with the rest of your things?”

  Her lips pinched tight as she thought through her answers. If Mama’s letter had been any indication, Ruby doubted she would see any of her things that had been left behind, and it was better not to think of them. Though she had brought much with her, there were still too many beloved items on the shelves in her bedchamber at Tulketh Court, and Ruby could not bear the thought of them sharing in her letters’ fate.

  But even without her explanation, Ruby saw understanding in his eyes. Conrad’s mouth opened to address it, but her heart pleaded for him not to ask; she could not bear to speak of her parents, and to dredge it up would only cause them both pain. He closed his mouth once more, his eyes speaking in return. They whispered understanding and sympathy, as though he knew the source of her heartache and felt it keenly on her behalf. And that silent support healed her more than any words he might offer.

  “If they refuse to send you it, then I suppose we shall simply have to purchase you one,” he said. Straightening, Ruby stared at him with wide eyes, but before she could say a word (though she had no thought as to what it would be), Conrad spoke again. “But we will have to rearrange the furniture for it to fit, as you do most of your sewing in here.”

  “You wish to redecorate?”

  Putting the doll to one side, Conrad reached for Ruby’s hand and took it in his. Ruby stared at his fingers as they clasped hers so gently.

  “I wish for you to make this your home,” he said. “My reaction that night was more due to surprise and a foul mood, but in truth, I rather liked the changes you made and never intended for you to put things back as they were.”

  His hand still held hers, his fingers brushing against her skin, and Ruby struggled to focus on anything other than his touch, though his words did their fair share to dishevel her faculties. Leaning back into the sofa, Conrad kept her hand in his as the pair stared out at the room.

  “Now, what do you wish to do with this place?” he asked.

  Chapter 18

  Snatching her jacket from her closet, Ruby pulled it on as she hurried from their bedchamber and down the stairs. Mrs. Seymour waited for her at the bottom with the picnic basket in hand.

  “Do be careful or you’ll take a tumble,” she said when Ruby flew down the last few steps.

  “I do not wish to be late,” said Ruby, reaching to tie the ribbons of her bonnet—only to discover she did not have it on.

  “Leave it be. You’re only going a few steps outside,” said Mrs. Seymour with a spark of laughter in her eye. “And I doubt your Mr. Conrad will be bothered if you’re a tad late as long as you arrive safe and sound.”

  Ruby paused at that sound advice and gave herself another moment or two to properly button up her jacket and calm herself. A looking glass hung in the corner of the entryway, catching the faint rays of light filtering in from the small window in the stairway and amplifying them, giving her just enough to see how great a mess her hair was. The bun was still wound at the nape of her neck, but strands had come loose from it, ruining the usual sleek, polished appearance. A smudge of dirt colored her cheekbone, and Ruby rubbed it away, but there was little more to be done.

  Taking the basket in hand, Ruby stepped out into the world and was met by Tommy waiting on the sidewalk before her. Without a word, he relieved her of her burden and strode alongside her.

  “What is the matter?” she asked when he managed three steps in utter silence.

  The lad glanced at her from under the brim of his cap and gave a shrug.

  Ruby stopped, pulling him out of the flow of pedestrians and wagons. “Your sisters?”

  Tommy shook his head. With a glance around him, he stepped closer and said in hushed tones, “There’s talk that the masters are planning a lock-out, but I can’t imagine Mr. Conrad doing such a thing.”

  Ruby concurred with that opinion, though before she could say a word the lad continued.

  “But it’s making the workers restless, ma’am, and they’re beginning to think a strike is their only option. Walk out before the masters shut us out, so to speak. And if the mills shut…” He shook his head and looked at the ground, kicking at a crumpled bit of paper. “Winter is coming on fast, and I don’t know how we’ll manage.”

  Ruby began to reassure him, but the lad shook his head.

  “Sorry, ma’am, I shouldn’t have said a word. There are those who’d be spitting steam if they knew I’d said that much.”

  “Mrs. Conrad!”

  Ruby’s attention turned from Tommy to the girl hurrying to her side. The child had little more than a shawl to cover her shoulders, and bits of newspaper stuck out from the edges of her neckline to provide a touch more insulation from the growing chill.

  “Good day to you, Martha,” said Ruby, reaching into the basket and retrieving the first bundle of food.

  “Mr. Jones gave Papa work, just like you said he would,” she said, her smile beaming enough to warm Ruby through.

  “That is wonderful.” Ruby’s heart lightened at the thought, for the family was expecting another addition to their eight children, and the loss of Mr. Spencer’s income had been a hard blow, even with the charity Ruby had given them.

  Another child rushed to her side, positively hopping on his toes as though Ruby were Father Christmas, and she gave him a bundle as well as more beggars arrived. Tommy tried to lead her away, but Ruby stopped for each of them, unable to turn away a single one without a treat to brighten their day.

  *

  Conrad frowned at the letter. There was nothing about the contents to elicit such a disapproving expression. Though perhaps it did. As of yet, he’d not been able to focus on the words scrawled across the page. Conrad was all too aware of the clock ticking in the corner of his office. He shouldn’t be so aware of that tiny sound—not with the mill’s machinery working away—but he heard it nonetheless. A tiny tapping that reminded him of the minutes passing.

  Where was Ruby?

  It was not as though he required her to be there. His wife was free to do as she pleased with her day. But their luncheons had become a staple of their day, and her absence urged Conrad to storm into the townhouse and search for Ruby. There were any number of reasons why she was unable to join him, but no matter the excuses he contrived, Conrad thought Ruby would send him some food and a note of explanation if nothing else. It seemed out of character for her to forget or ignore it.

  Standing, Conrad walked to the window, casting his eyes about the courtyard, and his heart warmed at seeing Ruby at the mill gates.

  This was not the first time she’d shared their bounty with the beggars who lingered by the wayside, and the crowd was growing larger. There was no hint of apprehension or rounding of her shoulders; instead, Ruby met each one with a smile, a
few words, and a bit of food to take on their way. Having seen the household accounts, Conrad was well aware that their grocer’s bill had grown significantly over the passing weeks, but he would never begrudge her such kindnesses. There were so many aspects of her generosity that filled him with appreciation.

  Ruby was an odd creature. Though she cringed at the thought of speaking honestly with him, she met the street urchins and beggars without apprehension. Conrad knew plenty of ladies who had no trouble speaking their minds to anyone who would listen (and even to those who would not) but trembled at the thought of being accosted by the poor asking for a scrap of food.

  And Conrad couldn’t deny that he preferred Ruby’s way of thinking. Not her fear of him, of course, but that was fading, and he felt confident she would come to trust him.

  With a few more words and treats from Ruby, the beggars scattered to take their treasures home to their loved ones, and Ruby turned to the archway that led into the mill courtyard. But even as she made her way along, she paused here and there to speak a few words to every worker she passed.

  Having no love of socializing, Conrad understood the effort it took and how much greater the struggle was for Ruby, yet she made an effort to acquaint herself with their workers—though many ladies would not bother. As it was not borne of a desire to gab, Conrad knew it was yet another sign of her determination to support the Ashbrooks’ ventures and her tenderness for the less fortunate.

  Courage and kindness. Ruby’s two most prominent qualities. Putting aside her own desires and fears for the benefit of others. Conrad could hardly believe he’d not seen it sooner, and his heart swelled in gratitude that his mother had set him straight.

  But there was something more than moving past his own blindness. Something was changing within Ruby, and as he watched her walk towards the office, Conrad noticed the little signs of it. The lightness of her step. The sparkle in her gaze. Ruby was not smiling, precisely, but there was a hint of a curl at the corners of her mouth that bespoke of contentment and peace. Her natural expression was often harsher than her true feelings, but there were none of those hard qualities visible at present, and Conrad’s eyes were drawn to her.