In the end, their departure had only been delayed by a day. Rhys was a little unsure about Belle accompanying him to London, but he wasn't going to let her know that. In the worst case, she could always go back home if it proved too much for her and she was in a much better position than she'd ever been before. She would have her maid and her dog, and she'd received a promise from her Miss Lucas that they would correspond frequently. There was nothing else he could offer her to make this easier, and she seemed to have set her mind on it.
She was petting the puppy idly as it napped in her lap, and he wondered if she'd be twisting her handkerchief lace in her fingers as she'd done after their wedding. It was impossible to read her mood in her face as she watched the countryside through the window, but he wished he could. More than that, though, he wished that he'd not had to return to the city. There was no telling what could happen and that, more than anything else, scared him.
"I used to take this road several times a year, you know," she said at last. "We would go to London for the summer and then I'd return for the Christmas holidays."
"Did you?" he asked. He'd known as much, but if she wanted to talk, he wanted to hear her.
"It was always my favorite thing," she replied. "I used to love the trip. Just the anticipation of it all was so delicious. I'd be wondering which balls I'd be invited to and planning who to call on first."
He couldn't help but smile at the image of her as a young woman flitting about in pretty dresses without a single care in the world. He wished he'd known her better then, honestly. What sort of life did he really have to offer her compared to that? She was going to be completely outcast, and they both knew it. She sighed and went back to petting the puppy in silence, and he returned to watching her.
If it had been anyone but Isaac Heller, he never even would have come into the city in the first place; he'd have stayed in the country with Belle where it was safe. The other man required a lot of personal attention, but he was a good distributor with a lot of contacts and a strange affection for Rhys. But with Neal wanting to open up new markets, Isaac would be an instrumental part of this plan. If he was going to demand dealing personally with Rhys, then that's what he'd get.
It was a two day trip to London, and by the time they arrived at the inn that evening, Rhys was already exhausted and sore. Belle was still lovely, but perhaps a little wilted as she set the dog on the ground. Rhys slipped one of the stable lads a few coins and the boy gladly took the puppy and led her off to exercise while Rhys led his wife inside.
"Will she be all right?" Belle asked before they were even into their room.
"I'm sure she's fine," he replied. "And besides, the boy could probably use a little extra money."
She nodded and went to the basin and began washing her face and hands.
"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I can order supper to be brought up, or we can go downstairs to eat if you'd prefer."
"No," she said. "I think I'd rather eat up here. I'm tired and I just want to rest."
He was of much the same opinion, and it was only a matter of minutes to call for the maid and have her sent to retrieve dinner for them. Rhys tried to find something to distract himself with while his wife let her hair down and started braiding it for the night. He'd always found this process to be fascinating, though Belle had only just begun to feel comfortable with him watching her. He wondered if it hurt to have her hair in pins all day, because she always seemed to relax after she took it down each night, but for some reason he didn't really want to ask. It was a strange little bit of intimacy that he hated to ruin by asking things.
She was tying a ribbon around the end of her braid when there was a knock at the door. He went to it, letting in the maid he'd sent down for food along with another one who was leading Rose into the room after her walk with the stable boy. The puppy was happily tugging at the end of her lead, seemingly unable to decide if she was more interested in returning to her mistress or following the maid carrying food. Rhys opted to make the decision for her, scooping the dog up and holding her as the girl with the tray set the food carefully on the table and left. It looked like they'd be eating lamb and potatoes, and the girl had even brought a plate of scrap pieces for the dog.
"It smells good," Belle said once they were alone, coming to take her pet from his arms. "Hello sweetheart, did you miss me?"
Rose wagged her tail and licked Belle's face excitedly. They made a pretty picture together, and he felt like an outsider in this little tableau but somehow here he was. Belle had come along solely because she hadn't wanted to be away from him. It was mind boggling, but it was true. She was smiling at him and he went over to kiss her cheek and hopefully break himself out of some of his odd mood.
Rose squirmed a little and Belle set her down on the floor with her dinner before sitting herself.
"We should be in London this time tomorrow," he announced as he joined his wife at the table for lack of anything better to say. "I'll be with you the first day, but I don't know how much I'll be working after."
"I'm sure I can find something to keep me amused," she replied easily. "There's plenty to do in London."
He wasn't sure exactly what she had planned, but didn't know how to gently question her about it. He didn't really know what her usual amusements had been before, or which ones would be available to her now. Belle likely knew that, though. She'd probably been through all the variables over and over again already.
"Who will you be meeting with?" she asked him.
"His name is Isaac Heller," Rhys said. "He sells fabric abroad and now that Neal is expanding the business we need to ensure that his distributors will be selling the new fabric. Isaac specifically requested to discuss it with me."
"Oh," she said, seeming to consider this information for a bit. "Should we invite him for dinner, then?"
He hadn't really considered that, but of course his wife would. She'd hosted more than a few dinners in her father's house, at least two of which he'd been in attendance for. She was a brilliant hostess, and he wished she had more chances to show it.
"If you think you'd like to have him over," he replied. "I'll leave that decision to you."
She nodded and went back to her food for a moment, and he thought the conversation was over until she looked back at him and spoke.
"I'd like to," she said. "It might help, and I can manage well enough."
"All right," he said. "I'll make the arrangements as soon as we get to town."
The rest of the meal was small talk, and by the time they'd eaten both were too exhausted to do much more than collapse into bed and get whatever sleep they could before climbing back into the carriage.
oOo
Not a week after Belle and her husband went to London, Ruby hosted her first tea. Gaston had decided to make himself scarce. He had never been one of those men with an easy charm who could keep a room enthralled with his witty conversation, and tea with veritable strangers had never been a particular hobby of his. Instead, he had gone out riding while Ruby met the village matrons.
While he could be awkward around people he didn't know well, Ruby was brilliant in conversation with nearly anybody. She was witty and charming and could hold the attention of a room. So it had come as a bit of a shock to find her in the parlour on his return visibly angry and swearing under her breath as she stabbed a needle into what was probably once an embroidered handkerchief.
"Did I come at a bad time?" He asked her, wondering what could possibly have upset her so much in a single afternoon.
"Those women are harridans," Ruby spat. "Just awful, the whole lot of them."
He'd known to expect some judgment about Ruby's nationality, but so had she. What could they possibly have said to her?
"What happened?" He asked, sitting next to her and " he said, sitting next to her. "Are they upset because you're American?"
"What?" she said, looking at him in confusion for a second. "Who said anything about me being American?"
Gaston had no idea what to say to that. She was obviously in the middle of a conversation he hadn't been present for the beginning of.
"Start over, please," he said at last. "Why are you upset?"
"Those…" she said before being reduced to growly noises as though trying and failing to find an epithet. "They politely suggested I might want to reconsider my friendship with your cousin because with my social limitations, I shouldn't add to them by associating with women of loose moral fiber. Those hideous shrews!"
She stabbed her needle into the embroidery again and tossed it onto the table. He didn't know whether he was more upset that she'd been subject to that or overjoyed that her concern was for his cousin and not the neighborhood. He'd always liked her grit and he was now learning there was more of it to like.
"Do we really have to have them at the wedding?" she said in a huff. "I don't need them there and I don't want them there."
"I'm afraid it might be too late to uninvite them," he said. "At least without causing an even bigger scandal later."
"You're sure?" she said with a pout. "At least now I know why Belle was so reticent about coming."
"Belle isn't always reliable around crowds," he explained. "But you're right that she'd have been the subject of a lot of attention."
"We could just elope," Ruby replied. "Honestly, at this point I just never want to see them again."
"You're serious?" he asked. "The wedding is in less than a month."
"It doesn't have to be," she said. "There's still time to send out announcements afterward and I just don't think I want to have these people here for it. I don't like them and I don't think you do, either."
"I don't," he admitted. "But what about your grandmother?"
"Oh she'll be fine," Ruby replied. "Anyway, you're not marrying her."
She had a point, and he wasn't even sure why he was arguing with her. He didn't want a big wedding any more than she did. They'd only really been going along with a wedding because it was what they'd been expected to do. But they didn't really have to do it, did they? He'd been doing things he didn't want to do for his entire life, but he had a choice this time and she was right. He'd never wanted a big wedding, and if Ruby didn't either then what was the point of going through with one in the first place?
oOo
Belle had settled nicely into Neal's house. In the mornings, she woke early with Rhys, and when he left with Neal to do whatever it was they did at the factory, she would take Rose for a walk. The fashionable people would be asleep for hours yet, but she wanted to avoid her old friends as long as she reasonably could. However, there were parts of her old life that were not totally lost to her, and she fully intended to reclaim whatever bits of herself she could.
Hyde Park had always been a particular favorite of hers, and as long as they were in London she might as well take the dog for her walks here as anywhere else. Lizzie stayed by the carriage with a footman while Belle strolled nearby with the puppy. Belle hadn't let the maid too far away from her maid for much of this trip. She hadn't wanted to be alone since they'd arrived in London, and Lizzie was the only person she knew in town anymore, but being outside had always helped calm her and this was no exception. It was so easy to pretend that she was a debutante again, wishing to be seen and talked over, and not a young bride who just wanted to be ignored.
Rose was definitely going to need more training about not pulling on her leash if she was ever going to pass as one of the pampered lapdogs of the city and not a half wild country pup. She was bred for this, though. Belle had every faith that the puppy could manage learning city manners. Perhaps Belle should have taken a firmer hand with her, but there was nothing for it now.
There was so much that Belle missed of the city, but she was at least glad that she'd discovered the joy of walking in the park in the early morning. Whenever she'd been in town before, she'd been one of the fashionable people staying out late and spending her mornings in bed. London was a very different place in the morning. There had been people travelling to work as her carriage had taken her to the park. Belle hadn't ever really thought about how many children in the city had jobs, but then she'd never thought much about the children in the country who were already in apprenticeships. Even Rhys employed a stable boy, and little Grace had been doing mending when she came to stay with them. And Belle did nothing. She'd never done anything of use or had a job of any sort. She could discuss the finer points of a dress and make conversation during a quadrille, but she had no real purpose in the world beyond that.
Lizzie rode with her in the carriage as they returned to Neal's house. Belle was watching out the window as they drove through town. They were on the outskirts when she noticed a woman standing nearby and clutching a basket in her hands. She seemed torn between heading into the crowd and turning back, and there was a brittleness in her posture that Belle felt deep in her soul.
"Stop the carriage," she blurted out, and before Lizzie even had time to respond, Belle was banging on the roof.
The carriage came to a halt and Belle practically lept out of it in her haste to get to the other woman. The girl was perhaps Belle's age, with dark hair and wide brown eyes that flinched the moment she registered Belle's approach.
"Excuse me, Miss?" Belle said, hoping to stall the inevitable retreat.
"Beg your pardon, m'lady," the woman said, ducking her head and moving back quickly. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm sorry for startling you," Belle said, stopping a bit away. "What's your name?"
"Gwen," the other woman replied. "Short for Guinevere."
"That's a lovely name," Belle said. "I'm sorry, this must be terribly unusual. I just...saw you standing here and I realized all of a sudden that we need to hire a maid for our home. It's not in the city, you see. My husband and I are staying with his son in London for a few weeks but when we get home we'll need to replace the one we lost and I don't know anything about you but I do know that the country is a good place for starting over."
She tried to give her whatever meaning she could into the last two words. She didn't know a damn thing about this woman, but she knew what a lost soul looked like, and she knew what it felt like to have that darkness behind your eyes.
"Of course, I don't expect an answer right now," Belle continued when Gwen did nothing but stare at her dumbfounded. "Like I said, we'll be in town for another week or so. And even after we leave, my husband's son knows how to reach us," she fished into her reticule and pulled out her calling card and a pencil so she could scrawl Neal's address on the back before handing it out to Gwen. "Here, please let me know your decision."
"I will," Gwen said, taking the card with a shaking hand and glancing at it. "Thank you Mrs. Gold."
Belle could have collapsed with relief at the little note of hope in her voice. She nodded politely at the other woman and somehow stumbled back into the carriage where Lizzie was looking perplexed.
"Is everything all right?" Lizzie asked.
"Yes," Belle replied. "It's fine. I just...we never filled your old job, you know."
"I know," Lizzie said wryly. "I've been doing both."
"She's as good a candidate as any," Belle said.
"You can't save every broken soul," Lizzie said. "There's always going to be another one."
"Maybe so," Belle replied. "But I might be able to save that one."