The Marriage Act

by Alyssa Everett

  “So you were willing to do whatever it took to keep her quiet, including looking the other way when she fancied herself in love with me?” John’s eyes, dark and troubled, swept over her. “What if I’d been less principled, Caro? What if I’d been the kind of man who found the admiration of a willing eighteen-year-old girl too tempting to pass up? Would that have mattered as little to you, provided she didn’t give away your secret? Or if in your anxiety not to be found out, what if I’d begun to return your cousin’s interest, and her feelings for me had deepened beyond infatuation—would it have been of no importance if Miss Fleetwood and I spent the rest of our lives pining for each other, so long as your father still thought you and I were happily married? Is everything a negotiating point you’re willing to sacrifice—not just your own truthfulness, but a young lady’s welfare and my honor too, to say nothing of any chance our marriage might have had for success?”

  Might have had. He’d used the past tense. “No! No, I would never have let matters go that far. I really was going to warn you that Sophia knew we’d been living apart. I even told her she was wrong about our marriage and she’d misunderstood how matters stood between us, but she refused to listen.”

  “Strange how I’m only hearing about this now.” Funny, amorous, loving John was gone, and cold, disapproving John was back. He stared at her as if the scales had fallen from his eyes, leaving nothing but bitter disillusionment. “You’ve been playing me for a fool this whole time, haven’t you? You’ve never cared about our marriage, and you’ve certainly never cared about my feelings. I don’t believe you even care about your father, at least not as much as you keep insisting you do. All you care about is making sure the truth never comes out, so no one realizes what a scheming, manipulating, black-hearted little liar you are.”

  She felt sick. “That isn’t true. I tried to stop Sophia. I told her in no uncertain terms to leave you alone.”

  “And when was this?”

  Caro said miserably, “Earlier today, before you and I went for our walk.”

  “I see. Before she threw herself on my neck and told me she was in love with me. Well, that was one lecture that obviously had a lasting effect.”

  Caro gulped. So the sarcasm was back too.

  “I don’t think you’ll ever stop lying.” Hurt and anger mingled in his tone. “I think you get a perverse thrill out of feeling like a bad girl but looking like a good one, and lying gives you that thrill. I had the notion it was only about the bedroom, that it was easier for you to let go if someone else took charge, but now I see it runs much deeper. You enjoy lying.”

  “But I don’t,” Caro said, her voice cracking. “I hate it! I hate having to keep track of all the falsehoods, and worrying someone will find me out, and knowing that any happiness and success I pretend to have is only make-believe.”

  “Then why tell so many lies, if you hate it so much?”

  “Because I don’t know what else to do.” She blinked back tears. “Sophia was right. Everyone here thinks I’m so good—the bishop’s daughter, my father’s pride and joy. If they knew about all the selfish, stupid things I’ve done, like trying to make Lawrence Howe jealous and pretending I was in a completely different country for five years...” A tear slid down one cheek, and she wiped it quickly away. “They’d never see me the same way again. And I couldn’t bear that. I never want to know how it feels not to be loved.”

  “I can tell you how it feels. It feels goddamned lonely and painful, that’s how it feels.”

  Her heart lurched. “No, don’t say that. I haven’t been pretending about our marriage, not since the first day or two. Everything but this business with Sophia was true.”

  He waved a hand toward the door. “Just go. Go to your father and see if you can lie your way out of whatever your cousin is telling him now.”

  She stared at John in anguish. “I never meant to keep Sophia a secret for as long as I did. You have to believe me.”

  “You’d better hurry,” he said, turning away. “You might still be able to fool your father.”

  For a moment she was torn—go or stay? But John was too angry to listen, and she didn’t know how much time she had left with Papa.

  She went.

  * * *

  When Caro reached the library, Sophia was perched on the arm of the sofa, pouring out her story to Caro’s father in a rapid, excited stream. Papa was listening with his brow knit, a frown playing about his lips.

  He caught sight of Caro in the doorway. “Here’s Caro now,” he said, cutting Sophia short. “Let’s hear what she has to say about this.”

  Caro stood frozen in the doorway, her heart pounding. “What has she been telling you?”

  Sophia turned an accusing face her way. “Only the truth—that you and John don’t love each other and the two of you have merely been pretending you’ve been living together as man and wife.” She looked back at Caro’s father. “It’s all been an act.”

  “Caro, my dear, come in and have a seat,” her father said evenly.

  She didn’t want to come in. She wanted to find somewhere safe and private and hide for the rest of her life. But by some miracle she managed to hold herself together and cross the room with her head high, as if she had no cause for worry. She took a seat on the opposite arm of the sofa from Sophia.

  “I don’t know what sort of disagreement between you girls set this off—” her father began.

  “I doubt you want to know the answer to that, sir,” John said from the doorway. “It’s a topic better left unexplored.”

  Caro looked mutely at John. She wasn’t sure whether his appearance was a good sign or a turn for the worse.

  “Ah, John,” her father said. “Why don’t you join us as well?”

  But John remained in the doorway, tall and straight, never even glancing at Caro.

  “Sophia here seems quite upset,” Papa said calmly. “My dear, why not sleep on whatever’s bothering you? You may see things in an entirely new light, come morning.” He looked from Caro to John. “The two of you might wish to do the same.”

  “I don’t want to sleep on it,” Sophia insisted. “I want everyone to know that Caro’s been telling lies since the moment she arrived here. Since before then, even.”

  “Why are you doing this, Sophia?” Caro asked. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Do you mean besides pretending to be so perfect, then coming here and lording it over me with your husband who’s supposed to be so in love with you, when it’s all nothing but a hum?” She darted a wounded look at John before her gaze returned to Caro’s father. “Go ahead, ask him, Uncle Matthew. Ask him if he loves Caro, and if they’re really happily married. Ask him to tell you the truth, on his word of honor as a gentleman.”

  Papa looked pained. “Sophia, child, do you really want to do this—interfere in a couple’s marriage? Call a man’s truthfulness into question?”

  Dear Papa—he was trying to make Sophia back down. At the loyal, trusting note in his voice, Caro wanted to bury her face in her hands and give way to sobs. Papa might want to defend her, but only because he loved her too much to recognize that every word Sophia said was true.

  John spoke up. “You don’t need to ask me anything,” he said to her father. “I’m perfectly willing to address Miss Fleetwood’s questions.”

  Oh, God. Here it was—his chance to be revenged on her at last. Caro dug her nails into her palms.

  John looked at Sophia. “Yes, I love Caro, Miss Fleetwood. I love her more now than I did on the day I married her. Coming here with her, spending time in her company, doing my best to make her happy and to look after her—every bit of that was real and from the heart, everything I said and everything I did, on my honor as a gentleman.”

  Caro couldn’t breathe. No, she couldn’t ask John to go that far. It was because of her that
he was here, and as much as she loved her father—as much as she dreaded having all her pretending and deceit brought to light, and knew how justified everyone would be in despising her—she couldn’t let John sacrifice his honor for her sake.

  “Papa, wait,” she objected, coming to her feet. “John is only trying to protect me.” The words came out scratchy and uncertain, as if they were meant to stick in her throat. “What Sophia says is true. John and I have been living apart since almost the day we were married. He took up his post and I stayed behind in England, and all those letters I wrote about my wonderful life in Vienna were nothing but lies. We weren’t even speaking.”

  “Cara mia,” her father said, “This is between you and your husband. You’ve said enough.”

  “No, I haven’t. This is all my fault, Papa, and none of John’s. I knew you were sick, and I didn’t want you to worry about me. John only agreed to bring me here for your sake. We argued all the way, and only pretended to care for each other once we arrived. I can’t let him take the blame for our deception, or force him to go on lying for my sake.”

  “I told you,” Sophia said triumphantly. “Everyone thinks they’re so perfect together, but I could see she didn’t give a rap for him.”

  “I should have been honest from the start,” Caro said, fighting not to cry, “and certainly shouldn’t have let it go on as long as I did. But I was afraid to tell you I’d been living alone at Halewick. It was my fault John had to leave me there, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.” She looked to John for confirmation.

  He was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Reason and truth will prevail at last.

  —Samuel Johnson

  “Sophia,” Caro’s father said, an unaccustomed note of sternness in his voice, “I think you’ve done enough mischief for one night, don’t you?”

  Sophia looked shocked to the core that Caro had actually confessed everything. She’d obviously thought to present herself as a shining champion of the truth, and instead she looked petty and spiteful. “I only wanted you to know she’s been fibbing to you.”

  “Yes, and you’ve had your say. Now go to your room. You and I will discuss this with your father in the morning.”

  Sophia made a petulant face, but she did as she was told, sweeping out of the library like a deposed queen.

  Caro had been watching miserably, afraid to speak. Now her father turned his attention to her. “Come here, child.”

  She drew closer and sat beside him.

  “Tell me what this is about.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She bowed her head. “I’ve made a hash of everything. Right from the start, I did something inexcusable to John, something selfish and shocking, and hurt him very badly. I didn’t realize how badly until just recently—I thought he was simply cold by nature, when instead he’d trusted me and I’d betrayed that trust.” Her eyes stung with unshed tears. “It wasn’t quite the worst thing I could have done, but only because he stopped me in time. The truth is, I accepted his proposal for the most foolish possible reason, and I didn’t have the wisdom or the courage to tell you—to tell him—before we went through with the wedding.” She blinked back tears. “All this time, I’ve only been pretending we were happy together, when John couldn’t bear the sight of me.”

  Her father set a warm hand on her shoulder. “Caro, my love, do you really think I didn’t know that you and John have been living apart?”

  She looked up. “What?”

  “Five years with no visits and no children, letters missing John’s frank, only the vaguest references to the people and places you encountered abroad? A tone in your letters that veered from dejected in one paragraph to stridently cheerful in the next? You have many gifts, but being a good liar is not one of them. Besides, you should know that bishops have eyes and ears in every parish in the kingdom—and a few on foreign soil too, for that matter.”

  She blinked at him. “You knew?”

  “I never learned precisely what happened to cause such a falling-out between you, but I knew that you and John were estranged. Didn’t it seem suspicious to you that my health should have taken such a dramatic turn for the worse almost the moment John returned to England, and that none of your brothers made the journey to see me? Didn’t you think it odd that I should’ve traveled to Leicestershire to begin with, if my constitution was so weak? I wished to give you and John a compelling reason to spend time in each other’s company. If you couldn’t work out your differences, I would’ve accepted it and gone on loving you both, but I had faith that if the two of you would only talk, you’d quickly discover the good in each other.”

  Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Then...does that mean you’re not dying?”

  He smiled. “We’re all dying, my child, and I have no fear of going to a blessed and uninterrupted communion with the Almighty. But I don’t expect to die today or next year or anytime soon.”

  She blinked at him. “Does Uncle Geoffrey know?”

  “Yes, he knows, and so does your aunt, though we thought it better to leave Sophia out of our little conspiracy. You mustn’t blame them for keeping my secret. I told them I had an excellent reason for the subterfuge, even if I was careful not to go into the particulars.”

  Caro listened, dumbfounded. “Papa, I don’t know what to say. I’m glad—so glad!—to learn you’re well, but at the same time, I’m shocked that you would put me through so much worry.”

  “I’m heartily sorry for that, and I had a long talk with the Lord about the vanity of presuming I knew what was best for you, as well as the wickedness of deceiving you and telling myself it was for your own good. It really was most high-handed of me, and even worse of me to ask your aunt and uncle to cooperate in my deception. But I have perfect faith that God understands and forgives me, and I can only hope you will, as well.”

  She was too happy to stay upset with him, and besides, she could hardly climb up on her moral high horse when she’d been telling him lie after lie for more than five years. “Have you forgiven me?”

  “Forgiven you for what? I’ve never felt anything but love for you, together with a sadness that you didn’t have enough faith in yourself and in me to realize that—if I may borrow a line from St. Paul—neither ‘things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth nor any other creature’ could possibly come between us.”

  “Oh, Papa,” she said, between laughter and tears.

  “I tried dropping hints to that effect in my letters, and providing you with any number of openings in case you should wish to confess the truth, but you weren’t ready. I even considered visiting you at Halewick, unannounced and uninvited, but you seemed so determined to keep the state of your marriage private, I feared it would only upset you—and, not knowing the details of your falling-out with John, I had to consider the possibility there was some compelling reason for the subterfuge.” He tilted her chin up to study her face. “So you wish now to reconcile with him in earnest?”

  She nodded and broke into a watery smile. “I love him, more than I ever expected I could.”

  “Then why the tears?”

  “Because...Oh, because while I was pretending for you, I was pretending to myself too. I told myself he’d forgiven me, and even come to care for me again. But now that honesty seems to be the order of the day, I have to face facts. He’ll always be angry with me, and his regard was only part of the acting I’d asked him to do for your sake.”

  “Only part of the acting?” her father said. “Cara mia, what can you be thinking? Don’t you know that young man is half-mad for you? Why, the day he came to ask me for your hand, I’d never seen any fellow so head over heels. I’ve known him for years, since back when my old schoolfellow William Goddard was headmaster at Winchester and John was only a boy there, and he’s never been the sort to take marriage lightly.”


  Caro’s heart took a hopeful and unexpected bound. “Are you sure, Papa?”

  “Do you imagine I would have given him my blessing to propose to you if I weren’t?”

  “But that was a long time ago. Before I—before I ruined everything. He received a letter from the Foreign Office today offering him a new post, and he never asked whether I’d like to go with him. How can I be sure he still feels the same way?”

  “I suppose you could do something truly revolutionary,” her father said with a fond smile. “You could ask him.”

  She laughed and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa. Oh, I do hope you’re right.”

  It took Caro some time to find her husband. He wasn’t in their bedroom, his dressing room, or the morning room. She even checked the cloakroom, though she felt silly for imagining he would return to the scene of their tryst.

  She found him in the drawing room, standing in front of the hearth, warming his hands at the fire. “John?”

  He turned toward her, a sad, almost haunted expression on his face.

  “I don’t know how much of all that you heard, but I told my father everything—well, nearly everything.” Suddenly she couldn’t think what to do with her hands. She clasped them together in front of her, though she sensed it made her look more nervous than earnest. “I told him about Vienna, and the five years I spent inventing falsehoods. He didn’t take it nearly as badly as I feared he would. In fact, it turns out his health isn’t failing after all.”

  John’s lips curved in a melancholy ghost of a smile. “I did wonder. He seemed stronger every day, and that isn’t the usual way with dropsy and a weak heart.”

  “I also told him that I love you.”

  Her husband’s face went blank with surprise.

  * * *

  She loved him? Well, that had come out of nowhere. The last thing he’d heard her tell her father was that they’d only been pretending they were happy together. “You don’t have to say that—”