A Substitute Wife for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

by Alice Coldbreath

  He wondered if it was safe to admit ignorance over Aggie. Had she mentioned an Aggie before? “Who’s Aggie?” he said, throwing caution to the wind.

  “Oh, didn’t I say?” Lizzie lowered her glass. “Aggie was a performer in the Wonderous Females tent. The human skeleton, only in reality she was just rather gaunt with sunken eyes and they used greasepaint to accentuate the fact. Apparently, she was Maggie’s particular friend and confidante.”

  That did ring a bell, though he hadn’t known the name of his sister-in-law’s friend. Then again, why the hell should he? Benedict took another swig of beer. “And what’s at Southend?” he asked, frowning in concentration.

  “Aggie’s sister’s boarding house,” Lizzie replied patiently. “Oh, and Maggie. That’s the whole point. You see, Aggie took Maggie with her when she quit this life and went to help her sister run it.”

  Benedict’s head spun. Aggie and Maggie? You couldn’t make this up. “What’s the sister called?” he muttered with some acidity. “Peggy?”

  Lizzie looked a little taken aback. “I don’t think Niamh mentioned her name, now that you ask. Is that important?”

  Benedict shook his head. “No,” he answered quickly. “Forget it.”

  Lizzie nodded and took another sip of her beer. “So, I’ve been thinking about it,” she said seriously. “And I think I know what our next step should be.”

  Benedict regarded her moodily. “Our next step?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, sitting up straighter. “Let me know if you agree. I think we need to determine once and for all if Frank is innocent. My own inclination is that he is, but I think we need to make absolutely sure before I write to Maggie – ”

  “You want to write to Maggie?” he echoed.

  “Yes, because if she was lied to, Benedict, then she needs to know.” She placed her hand on his arm and looked so sincere that any acerbic words on his tongue shriveled away. “She was the wronged party, and I don’t like to tell you this, but there was something of a conspiracy against her, against them both, if Frank was innocent.” Someone from a noisy party behind them jostled against the back of Lizzie’s chair, pitching her forward against him.

  “Sorry, love,” sang out a woman’s voice as Benedict glared in that direction.

  “That’s quite all right,” Lizzie assured her. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place for me tell you all this, it is rather noisy,” she said ruefully as she disentangled herself.

  “Maybe you should sit on my lap?” he suggested. “Then I could hear you better.” He met her enquiring gaze with perfect blandness.

  “Oh, you think that would help?”

  “It would definitely help me.”

  Lizzie rose jerkily out of her seat and sat herself on his lap. The self-conscious look on her face should not have this effect on him, he realized dimly, but it made absolutely no difference to the fact he was getting hot under the collar.

  Lizzie cleared her throat and leaned into him. “So, what do you think?” she asked, bringing her face closer to his.

  “Hmmm?”

  “About Frank.”

  His eyebrows snapped together. “What about him?”

  “If he is innocent of what they told his wife? That he betrayed her, I mean.”

  Only by a huge effort did Benedict manage to get his mind on the issue at hand. “He didn’t,” he answered, rather gruffly. “He hasn’t had anyone since Maggie. Apparently, he tried to bed some whore, but he couldn’t get it up.” Seeing the way Lizzie bridled made him realize he’d put things rather crudely. “That was after she’d left him,” he clarified, clearing his throat. “Not before.”

  Lizzie bit her lip. It was plain she did not consider this as the action of an altogether innocent man. “I must say I’m rather disappointed in Frank, but I suppose he did think she had left him for another man,” she said with a sigh.

  “Did he?” It was the first he’d heard of it. “Who told you that?”

  “Frank.”

  “Frank did?” The idea of them having a heart-to-heart about the state of Frank’s marriage was so jarring to him that for a moment he couldn’t think how to respond.

  “Yes,” she sighed, then her faraway gaze seemed to focus on him anew. “Benedict,” she said impulsively.

  “Hmmm?”

  “You agree, then? That I should write to Maggie and apprise her of the true facts?”

  “Why not just give Frank the address in Southend and let him sort out his business?” he asked abruptly. Lizzie shook her head, avoiding his eye. He reached up and caught her chin until their gazes met. “Why?” he demanded.

  “I think the least we can do is allow Maggie to make her own mind up about returning or not,” Lizzie replied slowly. “I do not think Frank was as good a husband as you are,” she said, completely flabbergasting him. “I’m not entirely sure he deserves her.”

  And just like that, the gathering thundercloud at his brow evaporated into nothing. “You think I’m a good husband, Lizzie?” he asked in gravelly tones, all thought of defending his brother going abruptly out of the window.

  She nodded, her gaze so clear after uttering so startling a statement that he wasn’t sure his ears hadn’t been deceiving him. “Of course,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the fact he was profoundly shaken. Sebastian chose that moment to poke his head out from underneath the table. “I think you had better feed us,” she said wryly. “All I’ve had since breakfast is an apple and some cheese.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were walking through the fair, sipping hot soup and eating buttered rolls. There was a lot less choice tonight with the reduced amount of stalls, but Sebastian seemed happy enough with his meat pudding, which he swallowed in three great mouthfuls, and then glued himself to Lizzie until she followed that up with half of her sponge cake. She cast a guilty look at Benedict. “I’m afraid Ema and Zaya have taught him some very bad habits about begging for tidbits.”

  “If it upsets his stomach, you’ll know about it,” he answered dryly and left it at that.

  At one point, she tugged him toward a stall that sold writing implements and sundries, and he watched without comment as she bought a sheaf of paper and pen. They were soon meandering their way back to the wagon, and Lizzie uttered an exclamation on spotting the new steps. “When did you get these?” she asked, running to inspect them. “Oh, they’re perfect! Just the right height. You must have measured before you left.”

  “I just guessed.” It was ridiculous to preen over such a thing, but Benedict found he was markedly inclined to bask in her approval.

  “Did you fetch in the clean washing or did someone steal it?” she asked suddenly, turning toward the bushes.

  “I fetched it in.”

  The look she bestowed on him was glowing. “I’ll get the tea things,” she said, mounting the steps with her light tread. “What are all these parcels?” she called from inside as he set about lighting the fire.

  “Just things for the wagon, you can open them,” he answered as he set about lighting the fire.

  “Really?” He wished now he had bought her something more exciting, but they had only stopped at a general and hardware store. You wouldn’t guess it from her reaction, though. “This fabric, I love it!” she called out to him. The woman in the store had recommended it, but Benedict did not feel inclined to point this out. “It will be just perfect for the curtains!”

  He heard the ripping of paper and guessed she had found the chamber pot next. He heard her clear her throat. “Very functional,” she commented, and he heard her slide it under the bed. He wasn’t so worried about her going over the fields now she had the dog to accompany her, but even so. He did not like to think of it late at night if he was not around.

  “A new blanket! This is a nice one. Not for Sebastian this time.” More ripping of paper. “You bought more tea and lemons!” Her head poked out of the door. “You will have to tell me what I can buy for the wagon now I’ve money to spend.”

  “I
don’t think there is anything else at present. Come out and keep me company.”

  “Are you going to tell me about your fight?” she asked, coming back down the steps with the tea tray.

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Because your win was inevitable?” she asked with a slightly teasing tone to her voice he wasn’t sure he’d heard before.

  He smirked but answered seriously. “My opponent was inexperienced. He’s had good trainers, though, and in a couple of years he’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

  Lizzie added the tea leaves to the pot. “His introduction to the business has been very different to yours, then.”

  “I grew up around boxing, for the most part.” She looked up quickly, then fiddled with the cups and saucers. “What?”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I just remembered something you said the other day to your grandmother.” The mention of his grandmother seemed to sink her deep in thought, and a frown appeared on her brow as she finished preparing the tea.

  Benedict was already half-resigned to further elaboration on the subject by the time he heard her take a deep breath for resolve.

  “Benedict, before you tell me any more, there is something I must tell you about your grandmother. She must have done it by now, for she said she would before you and Jack returned.”

  Benedict quirked an eyebrow at her. In truth, he had nothing more to tell her about his wholly predictable fight. “Let’s get it out of the way, then,” he said, thinking he should have brought some beer back with him to the wagon. Instead, he raised his cup to his mouth.

  “She’s gone,” she said simply.

  He swallowed his tea down the wrong way. “Gone?” he repeated once he had coughed to clear his throat. “What do you mean?”

  Lizzie looked grave. “She left.” He set his cup down again on the packing case with a heavy thud. “This morning she came around to our wagon while I was doing the washing and told me she was leaving to take up her sister’s offer for her to live with her in Shropshire.”

  Benedict stared. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “That Ma Toomes had a sister, you mean?”

  He shook his head. “No, that Great-Aunt Mabel would have her. I know Ma winters there most years, but I thought they were always pleased to see the back of each other.” He frowned. “God help them,” he commented finally. “Neither of them ever has a good word to say about the other.”

  “It seemed as though she had simply had enough of this life.” Benedict looked at her sharply, but Lizzie’s expression was open and untroubled. “She said she could not depend on her son to support her in her old age but that her sister had always offered her a place by her hearth. Or words to that effect.”

  Benedict gave a short laugh. “She has not relied on my father for many a year. It’s Frank she leeches off, and Jack to a lesser extent.”

  “Well, it appears she has now relinquished her hold over them.” Lizzie hesitated. “I think she regrets how things went with Maggie and means to clear the field.”

  “It would be the first thing she ever regretted in her life,” Benedict said scathingly. Lizzie folded her lips and said nothing, though her gaze remained intent on him. “Well, she’s gone,” he said challengingly. “Anything else I should know?” Again, she hesitated, and Benedict braced himself. “What is it?” he asked with foreboding.

  “She did let slip that – well, your father was behind the attempt to oust Maggie.” Lizzie kept her eyes on the teaspoon she held. “It seems he had lately taken up with Daphne’s mother and thought that Daphne would suit Frank far better.”

  Benedict brought his hand down sharply on the packing case, making the tea things jump. Sebastian sat up from his spot by the fire and watched them narrowly. Once he saw that Benedict’s anger was not directed toward his mistress, he relaxed slightly, but did not lie back down. Lizzie remained calm. She lifted her gaze to meet his. “The old man was behind it?” he asked tightly.

  She nodded. “Apparently so.”

  Benedict swore for a full minute, and that did make Lizzie wince. Once he had his temper under control, he said in low tones, “No doubt he thought he could manipulate Frank easier if he had someone speaking directly into his ear.”

  “I’m sure you are right. I suspect the tale that Maggie ran off with another man originated with him also, for neither Niamh nor Connie had ever heard of such a rumor.”

  “I don’t believe such a tale exists!” Benedict burst out hotly. “She wasn’t the sort.”

  “Frank believed it,” Lizzie said simply. “And what’s more, it’s what he believes motivated her to leave, though he may have been too ashamed to admit it to you or Jack.”

  Again, Benedict swore. “That bloody fool!” He sat simmering for a moment. When he looked up, he was resigned. “Go and get your paper and pen.” After all, Frank was going to the devil at an alarming rate. Maybe Maggie’s return would sort him out.

  Lizzie flew up the steps and returned within seconds with her stationery and a candle which she passed to Benedict. He lit it for her and set it in a saucer to give her light enough to write her letter. He felt irritated that their evening had been given over to family matters, but perhaps it was just as well to get it over with in one go, then they could concentrate on the two of them.

  He watched as her nib scratched across the page. She wrote determinedly and neatly, as she did everything else in life. Before long, she had covered three pages with her even handwriting, and Benedict wondered why she could not have put the matter into three simple lines. He would have done.

  She looked up at one point. “Maggie can read?”

  He shrugged. “If she can’t, she can always find someone who can.”

  Lizzie frowned, no doubt thinking the subject matter sensitive. “I hope she will not think I’m taking a liberty by writing to her.”

  “You’re doing her a favor,” he retorted shortly.

  “Do you mind if I write that you endorse my writing to her?” He gave a brief shake of his head, and she added a postscript and blotted the letter. “I’ll get Charlie to take it along for posting tomorrow,” she said, sitting back with a sigh.

  “Charlie?” he asked, rather more sharply than he’d intended.

  “He runs errands for Connie and comes to the tent most days for any commissions from the girls.” At the look on Benedict’s face she added, “He’s twelve.”

  His expression rapidly cleared. “Oh.”

  She stretched and sat back on her low seat. “And now you really must tell me how things went with the waistcoated gentleman.”

  Benedict glanced at her. “I’ll tell you inside. It’s getting cold. I put the water on to heat while you were at your letter.”

  Lizzie glanced at the bubbling pan in surprise. “Is it not a little early for bed?”

  “No,” he replied. “No, it is not.”

  “Oh, very well,” she said gathering up what was left of her paper and ink. “I suppose your fight would take it out of you.”

  21

  “Benedict,” Lizzie began tentatively as she brushed her hair before bed.

  He slung his boot over his shoulder. “What?”

  “If I was to run away, you would come after me, wouldn’t you?”

  He gave a short laugh. “I’ll put it this way, you wouldn’t get far.”

  Lizzie pursed her lips thoughtfully. “What if … ?” She cast a quick glance at him.

  He stilled in the act of unbuttoning his shirt. “What?”

  “Well, what if rumor said another man was involved.” At his narrowed eyes, she added quickly. “Of course, you would know there was nothing whatsoever in such idle gossip.”

  He was quiet a moment, but it looked as though it caused him some effort. “Why would you be leaving me, then?” he asked gruffly, tugging his shirt out of his breeches.

  “Say … I felt underappreciated or overworked?” Lizzie ventured thinking of everything she had heard about
Frank’s wife.

  Benedict moved so suddenly he was a mere blur. The next thing he knew, she was blinking up at him, still clutching her hairbrush as he held her about the waist. “Are you feeling that way, Lizzie?” he asked tightly.

  “No! Of course not!”

  His eyes raked over her. “You’d tell me?”

  Lizzie spluttered. “You may be assured of that!” she retorted. “When do I ever spare you my opinion?”

  A smile tugged at his lips a moment but was then gone. “What are you trying to tell me at this moment, then?”

  “I’m not telling you anything,” she stressed. “I’m merely trying to gauge how you would feel if … ” she broke off. “Forget it, I was being foolish. And besides, you more than do your fair share about the place.”

  He gazed down at her as though assessing the truth of her words. Whatever he saw in her face seemed to assure him. He gave a short nod and released her, shrugging off his shirt.

  “I can tell you what I wouldn’t do,” he answered grimly. “I wouldn’t fall apart at the seams and hit the bottle like Frank seems to have.”

  Yes, but Frank and Maggie were a love match, Lizzie thought with a pang. She and Benedict were decidedly not. She had no answer to the interrogative look he threw at her.

  “Very well, then,” he continued after a moment. “In answer to your question, I would first fetch you back and then seek out the source of the gossip and cut it off at the root. Satisfied?”

  Lizzie considered this as he unfastened his breeches. “What if the source were someone deeply connected to you?” she asked slowly, even as he started to shake his head. “By familial bonds of the strongest kind.”

  “They couldn’t be more closely connected than a man to his wife,” he said simply.

  Lizzie reeled a moment as she considered the fact that Benedict might think her the closest person to him in the world. He could not mean that, surely. Something of her thoughts must have shown in her expression, for he looked at her quizzically as he climbed in the bed. “This is news to you?” he asked. “Come here.”