A Convenient Arrangement
Christine stood in the foyer of her childhood home and untied the ribbons of her bonnet. She had just returned from spending the day at the school and wanted nothing more than to change before her mother returned home from her shopping. And perhaps a nice long hot bath…
Christine had been in London for two weeks and had been to numerous parties, balls and breakfasts. Being surrounded by her friends and handsome gentlemen eased the pain of her husband's apathy. It turned it from a stabbing pain to a dull ache that would never leave. True pain. At least in London she was able to keep busy.
It was when she was lying in bed in the wee hours of the morning that she realised just how much she missed her husband. There was something comforting knowing that Erik was in the next room. But with hundreds of miles distance between them, that small comfort and the hope that they would be able to mend their marriage was almost nonexistent.
"Has my mother returned?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Christine, I thought I heard you come in!" Mrs Daaé frowned at her daughter. "Where on earth have you been all day? None of the staff knew where you were. Dear, I know that now you are married, you are allowed a little more freedom, but you really should inform them and take a footman with you."
Christine silently cursed her mother's timing. It was true she had spent longer at the school than she had anticipated, but she had also expected her mother to take tea out.
"You're right, of course, mama. I suppose I just lost track of time; I spent the day reading in the library," she informed her mother with a smile, assuring herself that it was only a part untruth. She had spent most of the day reading letters and the children's work – and some of that was done in the library at the school. "I found the most fascinating book there." Christine paused. "I think I had best go upstairs and dress for tea."
She smiled sweetly at her mother before running up the stairs.
"What have you been doing, Christine?" Mrs Daaé asked later as she handed her a cup of tea. "You have been here for a fortnight and I have hardly seen you."
Christine offered her mother a shrug. "I have been very busy; I have had meetings to attend. I am in the process of redecorating the house at Cornwall, so I am always looking out for something that will suit. Why only yesterday I found the most attractive table that will go perfectly in the Chinese drawing room."
Maria stared at Christine for a few moments as she contemplated her response. It seemed that every waking moment Christine was rushing around to some meeting or a party and never allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection as she so often used to. She sighed and sipped her tea in silence.
Christine spent the following week just like the previous two – doing everything she could to forget about her husband. Most afternoons, Raoul would take her on a drive through Hyde Park at the Fashionable Hour. The handsome bachelor at her side did little to ease her sadness – or the gossip. It did not take long for the enjoyment Christine typically felt to fade. Christine had tried several times to play the pianoforte she had spent many hours at as a child, but in the end had surrendered. The memories of the short-lived joyful time with the attentive Erik at the Cotswolds were too fresh in her mind.
Once a week, she would attend the literary meeting with the ladies who stayed in London for the Little Season. There were charity events. Balls and parties and dances in the evenings. Any free moment was spent wandering down the streets of London searching for furniture and dressings to send back to Cornwall or at the school supervising classes.
With the number of men who had failed to return from the war against Napoleon, there were a large number of children desperate for a home. Christine could not turn her back on them. Letters were exchanged between Christine, Daphne and their lawyer as they considered moving the school to a larger building.
Daphne and Ashlyn joined Christine in London for a few days as they assessed the two properties that Christine thought suitable.
"I was hoping we would carry out this transaction as we have all others," Christine commented with feigned calm as she glanced around at the room they decided to use as the meal hall. "The fact that I am now married does not need to change things."
Daphne stared at her friend. "You wish for the house to be in Ashlyn's name? I assume then that you have not discussed buying this house with your husband?"
She knew something was amiss with her friend – the dark circles gave away her anxieties that had caused her sleeplessness. Knowing her, Christine was throwing herself into her social life. Daphne had the distinct feeling that whatever she had seen between Lord Erik and her friend at the house party had vanished.
Christine forced a laugh. "Haven't you? I have the money to fund this venture, but not my husband's approval." Christine silently begged Erik to forgive her lie. She was certain she had his full support, but to achieve that – and for him to sign the contract – she needed him to come to London. She was not willing to risk that. "You on the other hand, have your husband's approval – but not the money." She paused. "Are you ready to see the lawyers?"
Daphne smiled nervously and nodded. Whatever was going on between the two was best kept that way. She did not want to get in the middle!
Following the signing of the contracts, Christine headed to the school to sit in on a few of the classes and to inform Mrs Otis of the new building for the growing school. As she expected, the headmistress was overjoyed at the news.
"Oh, Lady Erik, you are a wonder!" the older woman cried, forgetting herself for a moment. She paused to collect herself, her hands folded primly in her lap. "The children will appreciate the extra space and a garden!"
Christine smiled weakly. She should be happy – she was happy – and yet she did not feel as generous as she normally would. Only a few months ago she had ordered lemon ices for the children as a special treat. The next day they had filled her ears with stories and excited chatter about their dessert. She could not help smiling for several hours. Surely buying the children a larger house should have delighted her more than buying them an ice?
No matter how much money she spent, she would never be happy. There was only one thing that would make her happy, and she could not buy that. Christine sighed sadly, tears burning her eyes.
"Lady Erik, is there anything I can do for you?" She had noticed the shine of tears in the younger woman's eyes.
"Thank you, no, Mrs Otis." In an attempt to redirect the conversation to safer and less personal areas, Christine began to quiz the headmistress about the children. "How is the new accounts teacher settling in?"
Mrs Otis smiled. "Miss Mills is working wonders in her classes; the girls are making very good progress. The students seem to admire her greatly."
Christine nodded her approval. "And how is Jenny coming along?"
"Jenny Black? She is now one of the best in her class."
Christine smiled when she heard that one of her favourite students was making such an improvement.
"I would very much like to meet Miss Mills. She sounds like a remarkable woman. Mr Compton has not come round to my way of thinking has he?" Christine asked, already knowing the response.
When she had approached the Latin teacher three weeks ago about teaching the girls the language he had simply laughed at her. It was outrageous even to suggest such a thing. The girls were already learning French; to expect them to learn such a difficult language was outside of enough!
"No, Lady Erik, he has not. Perhaps given time, he will adjust to the idea," Mrs Otis tried to sooth Christine. She too knew it was a losing battle.
Ten minutes later, Christine and Mrs Otis were sitting in on Miss Mills accounts class. Christine liked the way the woman did not disrupt her teaching to greet the guests. The only form of acknowledgment was a slight incline of her head. Miss Mills encouraged the girls to ask questions and explained at a level suitable for young children.
Miss Mills left the children to complete their task and joined Mrs Otis and Christine. After talking to the teacher for a few moments and praising her hard work, Christine began to move about the class.
"Miss Daaé! I mean Lady Erik," Jenny corrected herself contritely when Christine joined her at her desk.
"I hear you have been improving in your accounts class, Jenny," Christine said with a smile. "You should be very proud of yourself; I am very proud of you."
Jenny grinned.
"Why did you change your name? It is very difficult to remember to call you after a boy."
Christine offered the girl a sad smile. It had taken her a while to become accustomed to being called Lady Erik. "I have recently married and have taken my husband's name."
"His name is Lady Erik?"
"No, he is Lord Erik. His father was a marquess, and he is therefore given a curtsey title. Since I am his wife, I too have his curtsey title. I am known now as Lady Erik. It is very confusing and took me a time to adjust to my new name."
Jenny frowned as she tried to make sense of the peerage. "Is he handsome?"
Christine paused as she considered the girl's question. "I suppose you might call him handsome."
"Is he here with you in London?"
Christine shook her head and willed the tears not to fall. "No, he is at his estate in the country. He would not like London."
"Are you missing him, Lady Erik? Is that why you are so sad?" the girl asked innocently.
Christine looked at the girl in shock. Yes, she wanted to scream. She missed her husband and found the distance between them almost too much to bear. It was all her fault. She had run away from the man she loved, and yet was too scared to return to him. The tears fell down her cheeks.
Drake entered the library to announce dinner. In the three weeks since Lady Erik had left Cornwall for London he had seen a very rapid decline in his employer. It was obvious that during their first month of marriage Lord and Lady Erik were trying to keep out of each other's way and not change their previously unmarried ways. But despite that awkwardness, Drake had seen a desire and love that the couple were trying to deny. He had only to look at Lord Erik to see the way his eyes would soften as he watched his wife, or the way his lips would turn up into a rare smile as she spoke. But now, the light that had once been there was fading to be replaced by the young brooding man that he vaguely remembered.
Only last week while supervising a footman's work, Drake happened to hear Lord Erik's conversation with his steward. Jackson was informing Erik of the difficulties he had just encountered while trying to collect rent from several of the tenants.
"Sir, this is the third time in as many years that Gordon has not paid his rent! I have received no satisfaction talking to the man. I feel that perhaps it is best that you speak to him and see if you can reason with the man. I should hate to see him evicted from his home."
Jackson sighed impatiently when Erik did not respond. He watched Erik, noting the way he twirled his pen restlessly. In the short time Jackson had been acquainted with the new owner, Lord Erik had never given any indication of his feelings towards his steward or his role on the estate.
"Lord Erik?"
Erik quickly glanced at the steward, drawing his attention away from the neatly arranged shelves of books. He was well aware of the amount of time his wife had spent working in the room to restore it to its previous order. Like the rest of the house, she left her impression in the room which clearly was her favourite. Every change Christine had made to the house was a vast improvement that Erik found himself appreciating. Only yesterday an Aubusson rug arrived from London with instructions that it was to be placed in front of the fire of the library. Christine had a knack for knowing exactly what was required to make a room feel comfortable and homely.
"I will call on Mr Gordon presently and see if we can come to an arrangement. After that, I will oversee the harvesting."
For the past week, overseeing and assisting in the harvesting consumed every waking moment of Lord Erik's day. At dawn Erik would wake, and after a quick breakfast he would work with the farmers in their fields until sunset. The physical labour was no different to what Erik was accustomed to during his life as a Rifleman. In fact he found the work a welcome relief. Following a bath and dinner, Erik would retire to the study and work until as late as ten o'clock.
"Lord Erik, dinner is served," Drake announced.
His lordship glanced up at the butler, his eyes slightly unfocussed before returning his attention back to the decanter of brandy.
At first he could not approve of a Heaton – one of the wealthiest families in England – marrying a merchant's daughter. However during the short time he had to become acquainted with the Lady Erik, he was reluctant to admit he liked what he saw. He liked what she did to her husband. The results would be much more obvious if they were talking.
"Have you had any news from her ladyship, sir?" Drake asked gently prying.
He was risking his job by his plans to interfere in Lord Erik's personal life. Hell, he was not supposed to know anything of Lord Erik's relationship – or lack thereof – with his wife! Drake smiled mentally; a butler must put his employer's needs before his own. Was that not what he was doing?
"No – you damned well know that, Drake!" Erik snapped.
Drake paused as he weighed up his next words. "It is typical to hold the fete in October, sir. It has been some time since we have held one here at Heaton Mansion. It would be an opportunity for both yourself and her ladyship to become better acquainted with the tenants."
Erik looked up at the butler for a moment before returning his attention back to his drink. He sat there staring into the amber liquid as he considered his words. It would be an opportunity to get Christine back from the capital – and to meet his tenants. He could ask her to come home without asking her to come home.
"Dinner is served, my lord," Drake announced again as he quit the room.
He smiled when he saw the calculating gleam in Erik's eyes.
