Chapter 6

Phileas quietly joined Melody in the parlor several days after Jules left. The house had been subdued since then. Looking about, Phileas acknowledged the improvements she had made. Melody had made this her own sanctuary since entering the house. It now had fresh flowers in it all the time and some of the furniture had been moved for better effect. A sewing table had been brought down from its exile in the attic and set by the window where she could have the best light.

He found her sitting on the edge of the sofa beside that sewing table, working away at a lace piece that got bigger with each passing day. It now covered her skirts completely. He had not asked yet how it would be used.

He settled beside her on the sofa and took away her sewing to get her full attention. He talked of plans they might make for the little season coming up. Melody said little through the one-sided conversation. That seemed strange, as most women considered this more intimate social season the better of the two. Melody wouldn't know that. She hasn't been here since girlhood.

"Melody, I don't think you have said two words," Phileas said. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, but that is several months away, and you haven't told me how–how our marriage is to be." She stumbled over her words. Melody had been grateful for his kindness. Phileas had tried to make her feel comfortable in his home. She had been moved into the mistress's room. Servants had been hired for her and the house's care. They had gone out occasionally, and Phileas had been very nice to her. But nice wasn't enough. Not after what they had shared at sea.

And Phileas's refusal to announce their marriage was upsetting her. That could also be because of her brother's foot dragging. He had yet to call on them or say Phileas's references were to his satisfaction.

We have been married for over a month now. This can't go on. Besides, the occasional meeting with Phileas's town friends, and getting introduced using my maiden name, is an embarrassment. I should never have agreed to that. Most mistook me for a cousin, like Rebecca. Unable to explain, I can't correct them.

I'm in no danger of public censor. If anyone is, it will be Phileas. I am his wife and have the proof of it. But his reluctance to acknowledge it, his continued loss of memory, and his formal manner give me no hope to hold on to. The stress of it is giving me a nervous stomach.

"Do you remember our wedding day yet?" She said.

"No, tell me about it," Phileas said.

"You made a promise to me after the wedding banquet," she said. "I had been worried… afraid that our marriage would become a thing of convenience based on nothing. My parents had that and had grown to hate each other. I couldn't bear to repeat that tragedy in my own marriage. You promised me the arrangement would end once we reached England. You have been very kind to me since we came back, but…"

Phileas's smile disappeared.

"You made it quite clear on the last day of the voyage that you regretted what we had done. You were completely horrified by the idea of being married. I just think it would be easier on both of us if we didn't pretend anymore. I've come to realize you don't want me and I don't want to stay where I'm not wanted. My brother told me he could see our marriage annulled, no matter the circumstances. We should go to him and…"

"Melody," Phileas said, cutting her off. "I don't know what kind of marriage your parent's had and don't particularly care. We are married in every sense of the term and there will be no release from it. Your brother may not like the way we were married, but not even he will make me turn from my responsibilities to you."

"We have already established that an annulment isn't possible under English law," Phileas said. "A formal divorce would be the only alternative, and that, I will not under any circumstances put either of us through. Our beginnings may have been less than ideal, but it can be improved on.

Phileas realized his tone was less than helpful. He took a breath and reached for her hand, took it into his and gave it a squeeze.

"I would suggest you accept the way it is and work with me to improve it. Any thoughts to the contrary are useless. I am prepared to give you time to accept our marriage and I promise to be good to you and care for you as a husband should. But there will be no more talk of promises made when I was too addled of mind to know what I was saying."

"Then what are you going to do with me?" she said, losing control. She had heard his words. No release–my responsibilities–accept, and shuddered at the formal way he said them, as if he had taken on an onerous duty.

Do with her?

"What do you expect me to do with you?" He said.

Melody looked away. "Mother and father never got along well. Mother told me she had left their estate to go to London on her own when father was away on business. Old friends in the city had invited her to a party. When she arrived, she found father was invited, too. He took her back to the country that night. He ordered that she never leave it again without his escort and ordered the majordomo to see that she didn't."

"Mother wasn't addled of mind or short on social graces," Melody said. "She came from a good family and was well liked. They didn't want to be married when their parent's arranged the match. She said cloistering her in the country had been his way of maintaining his freedom."

Phileas stopped her there before she could speak more. The fears he heard so clearly showing in her face were too close to those he had already wrestled down. He didn't want to be trapped in a loveless marriage of convenience, either. His parents had not hated each other. There had been love, and Phileas wanted the same.

"Did you tell me any of this during the time I have lost track of?"

"Some of it, but not all," Melody said, forcing unshed tears back. "I was upset at the time because of the suddenness of it all. I'm afraid I spent more time in tears than words. How I stayed calm once I realized that the ceremony had been real…"

"You remained calm because I held your hands and made you look at me through our vows," Phileas said.

The memory came to him in a flash, a slightly painful sudden vision of a nervous young woman standing before him, stumbling on her vows. The emotional background of that vision told him clearly he had not been coerced. He had said his vows willingly and had lent his bride the strength to get through hers. A teary-eyed Melody replaced that vision as she had been during their first talk in his cabin. She had been in a state of panic that burst its dam within minutes of their leaving the banquet.

Phileas remembered.

He remembered seeing her breakdown coming and moved his young bride to privacy before she lost control. It had not surprised him. The whole thing had been a nightmare. Any woman would have been distressed at being rushed up the aisle as she had been. Phileas had sat her down and had reminded her then that their sham marriage would be history as soon as they reached London to calm her.

That had been before whatever happened in the time between then and their dismemberment. Somewhere along the way, Melody's terror of marriage had gone away. And if Phileas could trust the disjointed impressions he was recalling, he had been actively responsible for it.

Melody was looking up at him in surprise at his sudden recollection.

"It's coming back to me in pieces," he said. He took a long breath and set himself for a fight.

"Melody, you need to consider seriously what I said just now. I made you that promise before we consummated our vows. Had we not done so, I could have annulled our marriage easily. Somewhere along the way to England, you gave up your fears and allowed this marriage to become real. I think you should try to remember how that happened so you can do so again."

It was on Fogg's tongue to ask her to tell him about that, but he decided against it. Not now. He was not sure he was ready to hear it.

"I understand," Melody said. "And until then?"

"Until then, I will make no demands on you, and you will forget about being cloistered," Phileas said in a gentle but firm command. "Actually, I wouldn't mind if you were to remove it from your vocabulary. I have no intention of shutting you away. I want no panicking when we visit Shillingworth Magna next month. It is the place where I grew up. It holds many splendid memories for me. I plan on giving you such experience from living there, too. I know what a good, happy marriage looks like. We can make this work."

Melody smiled sheepishly, trying to rein in her heart. This formal considerate Phileas had just given her a bone of hope. He had remembered their wedding vows. If he could remember that, he could soon remember the rest. Perhaps my Phileas isn't completely lost.

"I will think about what you have said," she promised, dropping her eyes. "I'm becoming a terrible nuisance to you, aren't I?"

"You have become a challenge, yes," he said. When he saw the wariness come back into her face, he said, "I like challenges."

Phileas smiled to cover his confusion, wondering where that had come from and if he had really meant it.