She woke feeling bleary and still tired the next morning, but the pressure of her bladder would not allow her to go back to sleep. Once again she rushed past her belongings in the hallway – she had been too tired to even think of unpacking last night – and out into the back. She sighed with pleasure at the sweet release of emptying her too-full bladder. She thought bitterly how she ought to enjoy it – it may be the only pleasure left to her in her life.

Afterwards she stood in the shaded back yard and tried to decide what to do with her day. She thought of her trunk in the hall and sighed, and then jumped a little when she remembered that George's mother was to visit that day. She splashed her face with cold water from the pump and hurried upstairs to dress.

She opened her trunk in the hallway and found herself agonizing over what to wear. She knew it was silly – George's mother would no doubt despise her, no matter what she wore – but she discovered she still wanted to try to make a good impression. She reminded herself that it was George's mother's idea for her and Philip to marry, so really, it was she who had decided to bring Marina into her family. Although, perhaps she had only done so for the opportunity to have a grandchild, and would want nothing to do with Marina herself. Marina only hoped that thing would not go too horribly, and she might at the very least not be hated by Mrs. Crane.

She grew increasingly frustrated with her own indecision, until she grabbed the nearest dress and resolved to put it on, no matter what it was. She stuffed the rest of her clothing haphazardly back into the trunk and hurried back downstairs. She really ought to make some biscuits to go with tea at least.

Her stomach growled at her as she built up the stove fire, reminding her she had not eaten since last night's dinner, and she tore off a hunk of bread to chew while she worked, the bread hanging from her teeth as she scrounged around the kitchen for a mixing bowl and ingredients. She wound up mixing the dough in a large copper pot, as she couldn't find a bowl. "Why should there be bowls here?" she muttered to herself, taking out her frustration on the dough. "Do you suppose that Philip has ever baked biscuits in this kitchen?"

She sat down and ate some cheese and meat while the biscuits cooked, and a pear she had found during her search for flour. She poured herself a cup of milk too, craving the mild, frothy flavor on her tongue. She thought she should make a list of the things she would need for the kitchen. There would be no money for a maid – she would need the money for mixing bowls and sugar.

She fell to thinking of her own mother, how she had never seemed to stop moving, to stop working, always caring for one child or another. Always caring for her fairer skinned husband. Marina wondered if that was to be her life as well. Well, wasn't it only the life of every woman, after all? Only those rich enough to afford it could spend their time in parlors, visiting and gossiping, eating pastries made by the hands of another woman in the background, never to be seen. She sighed heavily. She had been so close to that life…

She was thinking of her own mother when George's mother arrived.

Philip entered with her, announcing their arrival softly, as though worried he might spook her, as though Marina was some kind of skittish animal. His mother however, was quite the opposite.

"Oh my dear you've been baking!" Mrs. Crane swatted her son on the arm. "Shame on you! Putting her to work like this!" She shook her head, the ostrich feather in her cap waving excessively as she did. She was a rather handsome woman, and smartly dressed, and Marina was conscious of her own haphazard look.

Philip let out an almost imperceptible sigh and looked apologetically at Marina. "Mother, this is Marina. Marina… our mother."

Marina stood, trying to surreptitiously wipe flour off her skirts as she did, and trying to curtsy nicely at the same time. She was afraid she didn't do a very good job of it. "It is a pleasure to meet you madam."

She was quite shocked to be engulfed in Mrs. Crane's ample arms. "I'm so sorry my darling. This all must be so dreadful for you." She patted Marina's back, and Marina blinked against the other woman's chest, too surprised at the moment to feel her grief. Mrs. Crane turned to Philip and waved him off with a dismissive shooing gesture. "You may leave us now Philip. We have much to talk about, and I'm certain you want to return to work."

Philip ignored his mother, looking to Marina for confirmation instead, and she found the gesture oddly touching. She smiled and nodded at him – this was already going so differently than she had feared – and he bowed out and left the two women alone.

When he had left, George's mother took Marina by the hands and held her out at arm's length. "Here now, let me look at you." She looked Marina up and down, smiling. Marina took the chance to observe Mrs. Crane in turn, noting her resemblances to George. They had the same round chin and wavy chestnut hair, and she had a wide face and shoulders like George, unlike Philip's narrowness of physique. She had the same quickness of expression as George as well, that was so lacking in Philip. "Well, my George certainly had fine taste in women," Mrs. Crane said and hugged Marina close again. "I am glad you are here."

Marina blinked at her when she was freed from her grasp, and managed a shaky smile. "Thank you. Would you – would you like some tea? We can sit in the other room…" She had already put out the teapot and some cups, and now she looked around for a tray. "I, ah…" She blushed. "I don't know where the serving tray is."

"Oh my dear, don't worry yourself! You have only just arrived, and besides, I doubt if Philip even has such a thing. We shall simply carry our own teacups." She took up two teacups in one hand and the tray of biscuits in the other and grinned at Marina most charmingly. Marina took the teapot and a pot of milk and mentally added another thing to her list of purchases.

"Philip told me not to come so soon," Mrs. Crane said as they set down in the sitting room, "but I just couldn't wait to meet you! I hope I haven't put you out."

"No, not at all. I just – as you say – I haven't settled just yet."

"No, of course not." George's mother poured the tea and passed a cup to Marina. "I wonder, would you mind telling me about your time with George? How did you meet?"

Marina tensed, wondering if this was a trap after all, but Mrs. Crane reminded her so much of George, with the same easy, unassuming countenance, that she wanted to make a connection with her. "We first saw each other in church…"

She told her story to Mrs. Crane, finding her to be a very good listener, interrupting only to comment how very like George it was to bring food to church, or to laugh and clutch Marina's hand as she spoke.

"Thank you my dear! It does my heart so much good to hear about George again. I hope you will tell me more stories of your time with him."

"Certainly. We should see each other as much as you like," Marina said, meaning it with all her heart. She had passed such a pleasant afternoon with Mrs. Crane, much more pleasant than she had imagined. She had spent so much time in London trying to pretend her connection with George had never happened, that it was so freeing to be able to speak of him openly again, and to do so with someone else who loved him too was a delight.

Mrs. Crane laughed and raised her eyebrows at Marina. "You may regret that offer one day," she said, and got to her feet. "But I should leave you today. I have taken enough of your time, which I am certain you have other plans for."

Marina got up as well and went to the front door with her. As Mrs. Crane was settling her jacket on her shoulders she happened to look up the stairs and saw Marina's trunk sitting in the hall. "Oh my dear – are those your boxes? Out in the hall still?"

"Oh! Yes… I haven't quite got to it yet."

"Then I shall help you!"

Marina reacted with embarrassed horror as Mrs. Crane started up the stairs with a determined step. "You needn't-"

"Nonsense! What is a monstrous task for one becomes easy work for two." She was already at the top of the stairs, with Marina following behind. "I can not believe Philip – leaving your belongings out in the hall like this!"

Marina felt a little twinge of guilt on Philip's behalf. "Well I was very tired last night. I believe he didn't wish to disturb me…" Marina wasn't sure how much she should say to Mrs. Crane. This marriage had been her idea, so she knew that there was no romantic feeling between Marina and Philip, but had she known how very separate they would be – how business-like their relationship truly was?

"This one is yours?" Mrs. Crane asked, opening the door to Marina's room. "Yes, you will find Philip will leave you to your privacy. I am certain he will not bother you," she said as they worked together to pull the heavy trunk through the doorway. Marina blushed a little at her bluntness. She appreciated honesty, but she wasn't used to women – especially women of Mrs. Crane's generation – speaking so plainly. Mrs. Crane went on, "My youngest has always been quite reserved, a little odd, to be honest. So very different from his brother."

"He did mention they didn't always get along."

"Get along! Heavens no!" Mrs. Crane laughed heartily. "They barely spoke to each other without screaming for years before George joined the army. Well – George screamed. Philip had always expressed his displeasure more quietly."

Marina didn't know what to make of that.

"Things had been getting better between them. I do believe they had patched things up, and were getting along. They might have been friends again, if only…" George's mother set down a box and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry for being foolish."

"I am just as foolish, if you are to call it that," Marina said, wiping tears from her own cheeks.

"It is the worst thing, to lose your love so young, while still so precious." Marina found herself in Mrs. Crane's arms again. She returned the hug, having missed this maternal embrace. Meeting Philip, she had begun to wonder if George was the odd man out in his family – he had talked of feeling stifled at home – but here with his mother she understood where George had gotten his warmth from.

"There." Mrs. Crane let her go and looked around. "That is all your boxes in your room at least. Would you like help unpacking your things or have I intruded enough for one day?"

Marina smiled. "I believe I can manage the unpacking much more easily. Thank you for your help." She meant it more deeply than for the simple act of helping her move a few boxes. Mrs. Crane had saved her from a life with Mr. Rutledge or someone similarly awful, and she had saved her from a life of loneliness too, by being so welcoming to a girl who had complicated things so much by her own foolishness. She was conscious of owing much to Mrs. Crane.

"Hm. Well, I really ought to be going. I made dinner plans with an acquaintance in town. May I call on you in two days time? I'll let you settle in properly. Now that I have assured myself you are here and safe I don't feel quite so uneasy."

"Certainly. You are welcome here any time you like." Marina walked Mrs. Crane back downstairs to the door, Mrs. Crane looking around and fingering the wallpaper as she went.

"I could help you with re-decorating when you are ready. Now that it isn't only Philip living here we must brighten up the house! We wouldn't want my grandchild being born in such a dreary place!"

Marina laughed, though she felt a worried lurch in her chest at the thought of said grandchild. She wasn't so sure about the re-decorating either, if what Philip had said about his finances was true.

Mrs. Crane kissed her goodbye and was out the door, leaving Marina feeling a bit like a whirlwind had blown through. A very pleasant, charming and kind whirlwind, of course, but once she was gone Marina was aware of how much energy she had been expending in matching Mrs. Crane's emotional state.

She was turning back to the stairs when she heard Mrs. Crane's loud voice through the door, upbraiding Philip for not taking proper care of his wife. She could hear Philip's softer voice answering, but couldn't make out the substance of his reply. Whatever it was, it did not satisfy Mrs. Crane, who could be heard repeating his offenses. Marina crept closer and opened the door a crack to try to hear what he said in response.

"….don't want to, but I haven't been able to take on many cases other than Mrs. Patterson's. Once it is settled, perhaps-"

"Then I shall hire a maid myself!" Mrs. Crane replied.

"I can't ask you to spend your money-"

"Oh shut up!" Mrs. Crane interrupted again. Marina put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing and giving herself away. "I am not hiring a maid for you; I'm hiring one for Marina. It was my idea to bring her here, and I can certainly afford it."

"Truly?" Philip sounded skeptical of her assessment of her finances. Marina wondered at her having her own finances at all.

"Of course, you silly man. Things are never as bad as you seem to think they are," Mrs. Crane chided her son.

Marina heard Philip sigh again, then Mrs. Crane said, more quietly, "You worry too much…"

Marina shut the door quietly and stepped back, not meaning to intrude on a private moment between mother and son. She put her hand on her own belly, and then went back upstairs to her room, looking around at the boxes now in her room. Feeling energized, she opened up the large wardrobe in the corner of the room and started unpacking her trunk into it. She fingered the fine dresses Mrs. Featherington had ordered made in that last desperate push to find Marina a husband. She wouldn't fit into those again for several months now. In fact, once she removed all the dresses that had been made for a trim, non-pregnant young lady, she barely had four dresses to wear for the next four months.

She opened the window, letting in the sun and taking a deep breath, her hand naturally coming to rest on her belly. Her son – for she thought of the baby as a son, a little baby George – was growing well, and she had a healthy roundness now that was hard to mistake when she wasn't wearing any shape wear to hide him. She smiled down at her baby. "I promise I will not squash you anymore," she said. "At least, not until you are in my arms. Then I will squish you close all the time!"

She laughed and lay down on her bed, warmed by the afternoon sun, and curled up around her belly. "Things could have been much worse," she told him, "we could have ended up with Lord Rutledge."

She woke in dim light, the sun setting behind the trees out back, with her stomach rumbling. Since breakfast, with Mrs. Crane's visit, she had eaten only a couple biscuits and tea. She rubbed her cheeks and shut the window to the cool evening air before heading downstairs to make herself dinner.

Philip was just coming up the stairs as she left her room.

"Ah, good evening," he greeted her, bowing awkwardly over the candle and cup of tea he held.

"Good evening." Marina rubbed her skirt, aware of her rumpled state of dress.

"How was your visit with mother? She didn't bother you too much?"

Marina smiled at his misplaced concern. "Not at all. We got on very well."

He looked around at the landing, noticing how empty it was. "Did she – did you unpack your things?" he asked, a slightly panicked note to his voice. "So you are staying here?"

Marina frowned. "Where else would I go?" She hadn't been aware that she had any other options. It was the whole point of their marriage after all.

"She didn't…?" Philip shook his head. "Mother and I had talked – only briefly, mind you – about whether you might be more comfortable staying with her at the estate."

"Oh?"

"Estate makes it sound grander than it is, truly, but…" Philip waved his arm, sloshing a little tea into his saucer. He stilled himself and cleared his throat self-consciously. "She did not mention it to you?"

Marina shook her head. "She didn't." Perhaps the visit had not gone as well as she had first thought. Perhaps Mrs. Crane had decided she didn't want to live with Marina because of it.

"I'm certain she was distracted by other things. I shall speak with her tomorrow. That is – if you have an interest in moving to the estate?"

Marina wondered, was that a glimmer of hope in his voice? A wish for her to move in with his mother, leave him to his solitude again, so he could pretend to be unmarried? "I think it would be wise for me to live with you, at least for now, given that we are newlywed, no? What will people say if I leave you to live with your mother barely a week after our wedding?" She tried to tell herself her response was based on reasoning, and not because she resented his desire to be rid of her.

Philip nodded slowly, and his face showed none of the disappointment she may have been secretly hoping for. "Yes… yes, you are correct. The entire point of this marriage is to shield us all from scandal, so I suppose we ought to at least do that." He smiled a little, and he had the same lopsided dimple as his brother, so that Marina felt her heart stutter in her chest. He nodded then, and stepped away from the stairs. "Were you going downstairs? I made a pot of tea; it is on the stove if you like."

Marina forced her confused feelings down and retreated behind a polite mask. "Oh, thank you. Were you going to bed?" 'Or just trying to avoid me?' she wondered.

"Yes. Well, I have some reading to do first, but to my room, yes." They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and Marina became acutely aware of the pressure building in her bladder.

"Well, goodnight then," she said abruptly and hurried down the stairs. Philip bowed again, nearly bumping her shoulder as she passed, and then turned to his room, shaking his head.

There was just enough light for her to make her way safely to and from the privy, but she ate her dinner by candlelight, alone in the kitchen. She kept seeing George's smile in her mind, his memory brought back to the surface by her time with his mother, and then Philip's smile, too much the same. She tasted the salt of her tears as she ate, and felt frustrated with her own emotions.

"Are you crying in there as well?" she asked her son. "Missing the father you never knew?" She sighed and speared a piece of cheese, glaring at it before stuffing it in her mouth. "I suppose I shall end up talking to you all the time, as it seems you're to be my only dinner companion here."