Marina fumed in silence, walking next to Philip.
This was the third dinner they had been invited to in as many weeks, and she wasn't sure she could handle any more.
It wasn't the company – the company was fine. The first dinner the Tuttle's hosted for her was a quiet affair, just the two of them and Mr. Locke and another older couple, the Dewberry's. After that dinner, the Dewberry's hosted a larger dinner, inviting several families for dinner, including Mrs. Carmody and her niece, and while Marina still found the old woman insufferable, she had spent some time talking with the young Ms. Smith and found her to be perfectly charming. Her sympathy for the young woman grew.
That night she also met Ms. Gloria Braithewite, who came from one of the richest families in the area. She was not nearly as rich as some of the families Marina had been hobnobbing with in London during the Season, but her family was well-respected across the county, and it had been quite a coup for the Dewberry's to procure her attendance, and Mr. Dewberry had said as much during the first course.
"I admit, I am not above the curiosity to see Mrs. Crane," Ms. Braithewite said, shining a mischievous smile at Marina. "You see, I have known Mr. Crane all my life, and I admit, I never expected him to wed."
Marina turned to look at Philip to see how he was reacting to this teasing, but he was straight faced as always. His only reaction was to cough a little when his neighbor Mr. Hilgarden nudged him in the arm, expecting a response.
This was enough of a response to amuse the group. Ms. Braithewite continued, "Not that I don't believe him capable of making a fine husband – only, he never showed any interest in any woman other than Lady Justice. Even as a young boy; he used to walk around the fields with his nose in a book. I have seen him fall on his face more times than I can remember!"
Marina couldn't help laughing; she could just see it in her mind. The group burst out into laughter, but Philip only smiled that vague smile and sipped his soup. Marina felt obliged to cut her own laughter short and change the subject.
Mr. Hilgarden invited them to their third dinner in town. It was a smaller affair, but Ms. Braithewite came to this dinner as well.
"I was quite charmed by your pretty little wife," she told Philip when she entered, and took Marina off his arm to chat privately with her. They talked of inanities; beaus and fabrics, social events and scandals. Ms. Braithewite asked Marina to share all the gossip from London, and Marina did her best to recall the juiciest bits for her. She enjoyed herself immensely with Ms. Braithewite – she felt like a young woman again, someone entertaining. She had missed gossiping and just talking of nonsense with someone who was as interested as her. And Ms. Braithewite was a clever woman, well bred and educated, with a sharp wit of her own. She was two years older than Marina, but had no designs on marrying as of yet. She had time though; she had a fortune to attract suitors, and the looks and intelligence to choose well.
Only, during dinner Ms. Braithewite poked fun at Philip again. Like Marina, she seemed to be looking to get a rise out of him, and his lack of engagement only served to encourage her. Marina started to look between the two of the, wondering if there had been something between them once; if that was why Ms. Braithewite seemed so intent on teasing him. It seemed wholly unlikely – even if a beautiful, sparkling woman like Ms. Braithewite was interested in Philip for some reason, they could never have married; he was beneath her in every way.
It was a younger group who gathered for dinner at Mr. Hilgarden's house that night, and Marina enjoyed the lively assembly, except that the high energy and conviviality of the group only served to highlight how dull Philip was. How he barely spoke two words together, even when his peers were talking of him, trying to draw him out. She felt embarrassed to be married to him that night.
They said their goodbyes – Ms. Braithewite promising to invite Marina to visit her soon – and walked home in silence. Marina couldn't help remembering the sight of Philip, silent and dull amidst a jolly party. She couldn't help reliving the sound of laughter as he smiled into the distance.
She looked at him as they walked, and though she could barely make out his face in the dim light, she knew his expression. It was always the same expression with him.
Only, she knew it wasn't. She knew he was capable of joking, of laughter. She had seen he was capable of wit, when he allowed himself. He wasn't stupid, not even close, so surely he had to know he was being laughed at, yet he did nothing in response. He was utterly frustrating.
He cleared his throat, and she hoped he might comment on the evening. Had he noticed how ridiculous Mrs. Carmody had looked tonight? She would have loved to rip into her with him, but he remained silent during the rest of their walk.
Once home, he helped her out of her jacket, hanging it in the hall. She thought he looked supremely tired by the evening's entertainment. "You don't have to come with me to any more dinners," she said, finally expressing the words she had been holding onto for days.
He paused in taking off his own jacket for a moment, and then looked at her hopefully. "Would that be alright?"
She suppressed a sigh and forced herself to simply nod. She couldn't deal with this frustration – she had hated seeing the way his acquaintances poked fun at him when he wouldn't fight back, but she felt inclined to agree with them on many points, and that made her angry with herself. Which only made her angrier with him, and his eagerness to withdraw from society made it even worse. She wanted to be his friend - she wanted to have some kind of relationship with him at least - but he seemed determined to have no relationships with anyone at all.
Still, she wouldn't win him over by forcing him to take her to parties he didn't want to attend. "We've been seen together enough," she said, climbing up the stairs. He stayed at the bottom, so she stopped and turned back to face him. "And it seems everyone in town knows you don't enjoy dinner parties."
He smiled mildly and she wanted to slap him. "Are you not angry?" she asked instead.
He tilted his head slightly. "Angry? At what?"
"They all sit around and laugh at you and you say nothing," she said bitterly. She hadn't intended to bring it up, but she had never been any good at controlling her temper. "You sit and smile and let them make a fool of you – you make a fool of yourself."
He shook his head. "They mean no harm by it. Why shouldn't I let them have fun?"
"They are having fun at your expense!" she snapped.
"What does that matter? There are other, more important things, that I would prefer to direct my energy towards rather than my 'manly pride'."
Marina snorted. "Ah yes, your 'more important things'. Your Mrs. Patterson, I suppose."
"Well, yes, for one thing," he said, and she felt her hackles rising that he had not denied that she was 'his' Mrs. Patterson. "You of all people should see the importance of this work."
"Me?" Marina asked coldly.
"Yes. By the luck of the law you were never born into servitude because of the colour of your skin, but still you can not be free because you were born a woman."
"I see. So it is I who am the fool," she said, feeling angry snakes coiling in the pit of her stomach. "I, who managed to escape one type of bondage only to jump into another type of bondage, throwing myself at George, asking to be trapped!"
Philip frowned and took a step up the stairs but she glared at him, and he stopped, deterred by her anger. "That's not what I-"
"You're the fool Philip Crane!" she yelled at him, stepping back up the stairs. "You don't know what you are talking about – and why should anyone listen to you? You're a spineless idealist who doesn't understand the world you think you're improving! Don't try to tell me how to live my life! Don't tell me what I should feel!"
"Please, Marina…"
"Don't talk to me!" she snapped and rushed into her room, slamming the door behind her.
The nerve of the man! Was she supposed to feel indebted to him? To thank him for 'fighting' for her while he looked down on her? She paced her room angrily for a while, then felt her son rolling uncomfortably inside of her and lay down on her bed. "I'm sorry," she murmured to him. "I don't mean to get so angry… I don't mean to upset you."
Part of the reason she was so mad at Philip was because she knew how she really was indebted to him. She was constantly aware that she owed her current security to this marriage – to Philip, for giving up his own life to take care of his brother's mistake. When she felt embarrassed of him during dinner it was accompanied by a feeling of self-loathing, for being embarrassed of the man who had sacrificed his own freedom for her comfort. She was tired of being reminded that he was only here because of tragic circumstances, because he felt guilty for his brother. She was tired of being reminded that the man who had loved her was dead and she was not.
She was just so tired.