A Regency Officer's Wedding: The Admiral's Penniless Bride / Marrying the Royal Marine. Carla Kelly
behind her head, relishing the quiet. She was hungry, but without the familiar anxiety. She sniffed. Etienne apparently didn’t let his Gallic origins get in the way of an English breakfast. Of course, he had been cooking in the fleet since Trafalgar. She could dress at her leisure, and go downstairs to breakfast on the sideboard. There were no demanding old ladies, no employers to dread, no fears of being turned off and no quarrels about her begrudged wages.
She lay there, knowing she would give it all up for one more moment with Andrew, before the Lords of the Admiralty hounded him to death; another chance to walk with Andrew, Peter between them, as they held his hands and skipped him across puddles. She thought about the two loves of her life, then did something she had never done before: she folded the memory into her heart and tucked it away. There was no pain this time, only a certain softness in knowing how well she had loved, and how hard she had tried.
Sophia dabbed her eyes with the sheet and sat up, listening to voices on the lawn. She went to the window and threw open the casement to look out on the glory of the ocean. She rested her elbows on the sill, eyes merry as she watched Lord Edmonds—looking small and frail in the morning light—and her husband walk among the overgrown bushes, stopping now and then to retrieve keys.
What had frightened her so badly last night made her smile this morning. ‘You didn’t really have to sleep outside my door last night, Charles,’ she said out loud, knowing he couldn’t hear her. ‘But thank you, anyway.’
She turned around and stopped, while the tears came to her eyes again. She must have slept soundly, because the blanket she had tucked around her husband was draped over the foot of her bed. The cutlass lay inside the entrance to her room, as though daring anyone to disturb her. She put the blanket around her shoulders, wishing for that elusive scent of bay rum. All her thoughts yesterday had been of how foolish, how weak she had been to allow a good man to feel so obligated that he would marry her, when he probably could have done so much better.
Her thoughts were different this morning. She relished the notion that of all the people in the world, she had encountered someone who cared enough to help her.
She went to the window again, this time to look at her husband only, walking and listening to an old man. She closed her eyes and opened them. He was still there; she hadn’t imagined him.
Lord Edmonds would probably have stayed all week with very little encouragement, but he was gone before lunch, sent on his way in a post chaise which Starkey had engaged, after a short walk to Plymouth.
Bright escorted Lord Edmonds to the chaise and helped him in. He returned to stand beside her on the step, put his arm around her for obvious show and waved to the old bounder.
‘That’s it, that’s it, go away, Lord Edmonds,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth as he smiled and waved.
‘You’re quite good at that,’ she commented. ‘You know, looking as though you are sorry to see him leave.’
‘I’ve had plenty of practice with any number of members of parliament and lords in their chamber who thought they knew more about the management of the fleet than I did,’ he told her. ‘And lately, my sisters have given me ample reason to wish them to the devil.’
She turned to go back inside and stopped. ‘I can’t face that hallway again.’
‘I can’t, either. Let’s go down to the beach.’
She went with him in perfect agreement. He helped her down the wooden steps to the sand below, where the tide was out. As she watched, perched on a well-placed rock, he went to the edge of the tide and threw in ten keys, one at a time, sending them far out to sea.
‘They’ll sink in the sand or be carried further out,’ he told her, wiping his hand on his trousers. He sat beside her on the rock, waiting a moment before he spoke, as though choosing his words. ‘During our walk in the garden, I had told the old rascal that we were newly married. He wondered why we were sleeping in separate chambers.’
‘Oh, dear,’ she murmured.
‘I politely told him it was none of his business. Still…are we going to lie to my sisters? I own it makes me uneasy to prevaricate any more than I already have. Any thoughts?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him her real last name, and what had caused her to use her maiden name. One or two breathless sentences would explain the matter, except that she knew the moment for confession has passed. Anything now would paint her as the worst sort of opportunist, and she couldn’t face more recrimination, not after the last five years. ‘No thoughts, really,’ she said, feeling the blush and slow burn of the hypocrite scorch her breasts and face. Maybe he would put it down to the delicacy of the subject.
‘I had planned to tell Fannie and Dora precisely why I was marrying The Mouse, but that would have caused The Mouse humiliation. I know. I know. I should have thought of that before I hatched this silly scheme. Maybe it shows you the level of my desperation.’ He turned to look at her directly. ‘So what are we? Long-lost lovers, or a marriage of convenience? Do we lie or tell the truth?’
She wondered if he was reading her mind, because his eyes had hardened in a way that gave her the shivers. She couldn’t look at him.
He sighed and returned his gaze to the ocean. ‘I just gave you my admiral look, didn’t I? I fear it is second nature, Sophia. If I tell the truth, that’s just humiliation for you, isn’t it?’
She nodded, thinking of times in the past five years she had been humiliated, from the ringing denunciation of her late husband by the Admiralty lords, to the quick glances of former friends, only to have them avoid her, until she disappeared into cheap lodgings.
He was waiting for her to say something. ‘I think you should tell the truth,’ she said, her voice low. ‘Just get it over with. Maybe they will leave you alone then. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?’
He seemed struck by that notion, which surprised her. ‘I suppose it is,’ he said finally, and he sounded disappointed, as though something had changed, but she couldn’t see it. ‘I’m sure you are right. Still…’
After a long, long silence, he nudged her shoulder. ‘Maybe I can manage one more lie,’ he said at last as he stood up and offered her his arm again. ‘Why should you be embarrassed again?’
‘I don’t mind,’ she told him.
‘You should,’ he said. ‘After all, you’re the wife of a retired admiral now and someone of consequence.’
‘I’m a penniless lady’s companion!’ she said, feeling anger flare, where before there had been embarrassment. ‘Who are we fooling, when it is just the two of us?’
He stopped then, took her hand from his arm and clapped his arm around her shoulders for a brief moment, as though trying to squeeze a little heart into her. ‘No, you’re Lady Bright. Humour me. Lady Bright. Sounds perky, doesn’t it?’ He grew serious, matching her mood. ‘We’ll think of something.’
When? she wondered as they went into the house. She made a point to look up at the ceiling, with all the naughty cupids. This kind man has married me. I need to start proving my worth, she told herself. She returned her gaze to the man beside her. ‘Charles, it is time we took the bull by the horns. This house must be painted, and soon.’
‘I know. The neighbours, is it?’
‘The neighbours. We will visit them and ask for advice. We will throw ourselves on their mercy and see if we can poach a bailiff.’
‘Madam, why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Simple,’ she told him. ‘You are used to commanding people. Now it is time to grovel and plead for help. I am going to change into my one other dress and my ugly but serviceable walking shoes.’