Marriage of Inconvenience

by Cheryl Bolen

  Her eyes widened. “How can you love me if you believe I’m a liar as well as a woman who’d betray you?”

  “I don’t believe you’re a liar, nor do I think you’d betray me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Can you ever forgive me those wicked accusations?”

  “Of course, my dearest. I brought it upon myself by not being honest with you about P. Corpus. I swear I will never lie to you as long as I live.”

  He savored the feel of her as his eyes filled with tears and his voice became choked. “I know.”

  * * *

  The physician arrived an hour later. By then it was three in the morning. He examined Chuckie and repeated the same impotent instructions, then stood there wringing his hands in much the same way she and John had. Rebecca was beginning to think he did not know any more about getting Chuckie well than she did.

  “Do not be alarmed over convulsions,” he told them. “I will own, they’re frightful to see, but they’re actually quite common in children, and I assure you most of those children fully recover.”

  That, at least, was reassuring.

  Mr. Mostyn took his leave and told them he would be back the following day.

  Rebecca would do anything in her power to send her precious stepson back on the road to recovery, but she knew such power rested solely with the Almighty. Since the first night Chuckie had felt poorly, she had not stopped imploring God to heal the child who meant so much to her. Now that John, too, had mended his breach with the Lord, she had renewed hope that their dual appeal would be heard.

  Despite the heaviness in her heart, she was comforted when John climbed onto her bed. Chuckie’s limp body lay in the center, with her on his left and his father on his right. Her husband’s presence helped to ease the ache that gnawed her insides.

  Though he was still listless the following morning, Rebecca thought Chuckie’s fever was much less intense. John kissed each of them on the forehead. “I need a shave. Would you like me to have tea sent up?”

  “Yes, please.”

  A moment later Emily was in the chamber, swiftly moving to Rebecca’s bed to check the patient. She closed her eyes tightly and sighed. “I have prayed so mightily, I had hoped for improvement.”

  Teary eyed, Rebecca faced Emily. “We’ve all been praying.”

  Emily’s gaze swept around the curtained bed. “It’s so dark and dreary, why do you not open these curtains to let in the morning light?”

  “Chuckie fancies this comforting, being within the enclosing curtains—as long as someone is here with him!” She tried to sound bright.

  “It’s a credit to you that you’re the person he most wants.”

  Those were the nicest words Emily had ever spoken to her. “Thank you. I am honored to have won his affection, but I assure you I return it a hundred fold.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” Emily’s voice had softened. “I owe you an apology. I’ve behaved abominably to you.”

  “You’ve done nothing which could destroy my affection for you.”

  “You don’t know how I’ve wronged you.”

  Rebecca peered into her eyes, eyes that were so much like Chuckie’s. “I think I do.”

  “What do you mean?” Emily’s brows lifted.

  “Did you perchance look over one of the letters your father wrote to me that I carelessly left in the library’s desk?”

  “You know!” Emily covered her face with her hands and began to cry. “I’m so ashamed,” she managed between sobs. “I’m s-s-s-so sorry.”

  “I forgive you. Judge not, and ye shall not be judged; condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned; forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.”

  “Why has my father not reprimanded me because of my wicked actions?”

  “Your father doesn’t know.”

  “Surely you told him?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “I confess, at first I wanted to—to exonerate myself—but I did not want to do anything which might diminish the happiness in our family.” She moved to her stepdaughter and hugged her.

  Which made Emily cry even harder as her arms encircled Rebecca.

  “As important as your father’s duties in the House of Lords are, the most important thing in his life is his family.”

  “I don’t see how he could possibly still love me.”

  “You cannot destroy the kind of love a father holds for his daughter.”

  “I have still another confession.”

  Rebecca patted her back.

  “I forbade Spencer and Alex to call you Mother.”

  Rebecca was tremendously relieved to learn she had done nothing to destroy Spencer’s affection. “There’s nothing wicked in that, love. It’s perfectly understandable you’d not want your mother either forgotten or replaced. Now, let’s not discuss this further. All is forgiven and forgotten. From this moment, we will start anew. I beg that you dry your tears.”

  “I don’t know how you can think of us as family when I’ve been so horrid.”

  “I never thought to have a family of my own. I confess there were at least seven reasons I wanted to marry your father—other than my affection for him.”

  Emily swiped at her slick cheeks and eyed Rebecca skeptically. “You truly wanted a ready-made family?”

  Rebecca nodded. Had it not been for the fact that Aynsley had seven motherless children, she would never have been able to gather the courage to make the bold proposal that resulted in their marriage—and brought her to these children who had come to mean so much to her.

  Thank You, God, for answering my prayers, for filling my heart with love for Emily and for allowing us to move forward with the affection of a mother and daughter. “I will confess, my very dear Emily, that I’m often guided by the Bible. ‘Bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you.’ If you recite things often enough, I have found that the Lord makes everything right.”

  Then Rebecca’s somber gaze swept to Chuckie lying so eerily still, and her eyes filled with tears, her heart with unspeakable dread. “I pray the Lord continues to answer my prayers, to make everything right.” She looked into Emily’s misting blue eyes. Rebecca was powerless to prevent her tears from spilling onto her cheeks, powerless to keep her voice from cracking when she said, “All of our prayers.”

  * * *

  Aynsley had quietly entered Rebecca’s bedchamber and was shocked to find his wife and daughter embracing. “Now this is the best sight I’ve seen in a long while.”

  They spun around to face him. To his delight, both smiled.

  He came to hug each of them. “You’ve made me very happy.”

  “You’re not angry with me?” Emily asked.

  “I was disappointed in you, but Rebecca would not allow me to speak to you.”

  Emily’s gaze met her stepmother’s. “You wanted my affections earned, not forced?”

  “Exactly. And it was well worth the wait. I cannot tell you how good this makes me feel—in spite of...” She tossed her glance to the bed.

  Chuckie was stirring.

  They all rushed to the bedside in time to see his eyes open. His gaze fanned over those assembled by his bed, and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Papa?”

  “Yes, son?”

  “Mother said you would give me a piggyback ride.”

  Aynsley’s gaze flicked to Rebecca’s happy face. “Do you feel like it, lad?”

  Chuckie sat up. “Can we do it now?”

  Thank You, God. “Indeed we can!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  On Sunday the whole family went to church. They had cautiously watched Chuckie for three more days before Rebecca would permit him to go out of doors. Every hour Aynsley prayed his thanks to the Lord that his son’s fever had not returned.

  Chuckie appeared to have recovered fully.

  As Aynsley sat there in the Lord’s house surrounded by his family, he experienced a profound feeling of well-being. His gaze moved from
Spencer to Alex. They were behaving admirably. Then he cast a glance at Emily, who sat next to Peter. The day before, she had tearfully confessed to him that she was the one who had written to the Morning Chronicle. As disappointed as he was, he told her he was proud of the courage she demonstrated by owning up to her misdeeds. As she sat in his library weeping, he came to hug her and assure her that he loved her and always would.

  Just before the service started, he eyed his wife. Chuckie had climbed upon her lap. His heart expanded as he watched them. He realized he owed God thanks, too, for bringing Rebecca into his life. At the age of three and forty years, he finally knew what it was to be in love. How fortunate he was to have her for his wife.

  After the service, the family chose to walk home, owing to the warm spring day. “I believe I’d like to look at your farm,” he told his wife.

  He glanced at Emily, who was walking beside them between him and Peter. “Did you know what I gave Rebecca as a wedding gift?”

  She shook her head.

  “Abington’s old farm.”

  “Whatever are you going to do with that, my lady?” Emily asked.

  Peter cleared his throat. “She has engaged the services of a hardworking man who hopes to prove he’s capable of managing aristocrats’ properties.”

  Aynsley whipped toward his wife. “How could you afford a good man? And why would a man be willing to work on so small a piece of property?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I found a man who wants to prove himself worthy of marrying a much-cherished daughter.”

  Emily gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “It’s Peter! Is it not?”

  “Indeed,” Peter answered, smiling down at Emily. “I had wanted to surprise you and Uncle after I had succeeded in transforming the barren parcel.”

  “He’s been educating himself about farming, and he’s even doing all the labor because we haven’t enough to pay workers,” Rebecca said.

  Powerful emotions surged through Aynsley. He was so incredibly proud of his nephew, so pleased that he loved Emily enough to prove it by slaving like a common laborer even though he was the grandson of an earl. No man could ever be a better husband to his beloved daughter. “What’s your crop going to be?”

  There was deep satisfaction in Peter’s voice when he responded. “Barley. It’s already planted.”

  “You planted two hectares all by yourself?”

  “I did. I worked from sunup to sundown.”

  “Then that’s where you’ve been going!” Emily said, admiration in her voice.

  “I believe we should wait and let you surprise us,” Aynsley said.

  “You all are invited to the autumn harvest.”

  “I cannot wait,” Emily said. “Pray, allow me to see what you’ve already done.”

  Aynsley thought this might be a good time to allow Peter and Emily some privacy. “You two go on and take a look at the farm. My wife and I shall wait for the autumn harvest.”

  He watched them as they walked away. He wanted them to be as happy in each other as he was with Rebecca. “I’ve decided not to put Emily through a Season.”

  “I’m pleased that you’ve come to the right decision. You’ll bless her marriage to Peter?”

  “If he continues the industry he’s now demonstrating, then yes.”

  “I have seen what he’s been doing on my farm. I think you’ll be enormously proud of him.”

  “I already am. Even if his crops were to fail, he’s already earned my approval.”

  “I thought if he could demonstrate his capabilities you might one day allow him to manage one of your properties. That would also ensure that Emily has a roof over her head.”

  “Brilliant idea! Just another reason for marrying a woman capable of cataloging large, private libraries,” he said with a wink.

  His three youngest sons ran ahead of them. “Do you think it all right for Chuckie to be exerting so much energy?” he asked.

  “I learned when he was sick he can’t do what his body won’t allow him to do—no matter how strongly the mind feels otherwise.”

  He took his wife’s hand. “I daresay you’re right. I am most satisfied that I married so wise a woman. You probably know my marriage to Dorothy was never a love match.”

  She gasped. “You mean you weren’t terribly in love with her?”

  “Neither of us ever pretended to be in love. I was one and twenty when we met and eager to advance my career in the House of Commons. I could do so by marrying her. Her father was a powerful duke who was a great aid to my electioneering. He was grateful to me for taking her off the shelf.”

  “I cannot imagine why she was on the shelf. She looks rather pretty in her portrait, and she was a duke’s daughter.”

  “Her personality was...abrasive.”

  They walked some little distance before she continued. “So you married her to advance your career in the House of Commons, then your father had the effrontery

  to die unexpectedly and send you to the House of Lords?”

  He nodded. “Despite the absence of love in our marriage, I have no regrets.”

  “Of course not! Had you not married her, we wouldn’t have these wonderful children.”

  Far ahead of them, his boys were still running. It was difficult to imagine how sick Chuckie had been just days earlier, his recovery was so remarkable.

  “My darling?” Rebecca lifted her sweet face to his.

  “Yes?”

  “When did you discover I was P. Corpus?”

  “Shortly after the day you asked me to marry you.”

  Her mouth gaped open in awe. “Pray, how could you? No one knew, except for me and Lady Agar.”

  “Anyone with a smattering of Latin could easily work out the name. Once I hit on that—admittedly because you’d just left—it occurred to me the sentiments expounded upon by P. Corpus could very well have been composed by a woman.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve known my secret all this time but didn’t tell me. That’s almost as wicked as me keeping my P. Corpus identity from you.”

  “Neither of us was very honest.”

  “Since you’re pledging to be truthful,” she said, “I must know your true feelings about P. Corpus.”

  “I always admired and wanted to meet the man I thought was P. Corpus.”

  “You really did admire me?”

  “Greatly. When I deduced that you were the essayist, it suddenly became clear to me that P. Corpus had to be a female because no man could write with such passion.”

  “You thought me passionate? I declare, no other man would ever find me so.”

  “I’m not thinking of carnal passion, my sweet. I’m thinking of the way you so passionately cared for our little son when he was sick. I think of your unwavering resistance to child laborers. I think of a woman so passionate about what she’s doing, she’d catalog Lord Agar’s entire library in a matter of weeks.”

  They both laughed. “I daresay you’ve grown weary of hearing about my proficiency at cataloging the largest private library in Great Britain. Did I say that passionately enough?”

  Chuckling, he lifted her hand to his lips. “I will never grow tired of anything about you, my dearest, dearest love.”

  “I am trying to compose a passionate response.” She drew in her breath and let out an exaggerated sigh of contentment. “Had I the selection of any man in the universe to unite myself with, you would be my resounding choice.”

  The boys had run so far ahead of them, he could only barely see them. He peered down at his wife. Neither of them spoke for a moment, resting in the peace and contentment of each others’ presence.

  “I suppose what I just said falls rather short of being passionate,” she said, lifting her face. “I don’t suppose I’ve ever come out and actually said I love you so I will tell you I not only love you more than I ever thought it possible to love, but I love everything about you.

  “I love the way you look when you smile—which you do uncommonly often. I love to
listen to you speak of reform. I love the way our laughing eyes meet over shared amusements. I love your strength of character and the leadership you provide to all those around you. I love that you’re exceedingly intelligent without being arrogant. Most of all, I especially love those children, each of whom has a little part of you in them.”

  Her eloquence nearly moved him to tears. “I wish every man in the kingdom could be as happy as I am now.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Yes, I feel the same. Just months ago I had nothing, and now I have everything.”

  It was the very same with him.

  They reached Dunton Hall where his boys were playing witches on the grass. With Rebecca’s hand in his, he stood there for a moment, thanking God for all his blessings and vowing to work toward making happiness available to everyone in England.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  “I am perfectly capable of walking to my farm,” an exasperated Rebecca said to her husband. John was entirely too protective of her—and the babe in her womb.

  “Indulge your devoted husband.” He tenderly lifted her into the open barouche, where the three youngest lads had squeezed into the opposite seat. Emily and Fordyce, who was now home from Oxford, had gone ahead on their horses.

  This was an exciting occasion in the Compton family. Peter was harvesting his first crop.

  John came to sit beside her, taking her hand in his as their driver flicked the ribbons. “By the way, love,” he said, “I have an announcement I think will please you.”

  She cocked a single brow as she met his eyes.

  “I have established a school in Wales for the lads who previously worked in my mines.”

  “Previously?”

  He nodded. “I have started a sewing cooperative for the widowed mothers so they won’t have to send their lads to work the mines. There’s a man in London who’ll sell their products.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, my darling! I am so very proud of you.”

  “Ever since Chuckie was sick, I’ve been more acutely aware of how precious one’s children are. You’ve been right all along to chastise me for employing young boys in so dangerous an occupation.”