Large, calloused hands explored her ribcage, and she felt the prickle of long grass pressing against her bare thighs. She giggled as his stubble tickled her neck and he laughed, his breath hot of on her chest.

"I shall have to leave off shaving while I am away," he said and rubbed his chin on her ribs, making her squeal and reflexively reach to push him off. He grabbed her wrists and pushed them back against the tree trunk, and his strength exhilarated her. "When I return, I will have a full beard." He ran his chin down from her ribs, across her belly, sending her into a giggling fit. Then he started kissing his way back up the way he had gone, and she pushed her body against him, wanting to hold him, but he held tight to her wrists. She would never let anyone else control her the way she let him do. She had never trusted anyone enough before him.

She panted as he trailed kisses along her collarbone, and she had had enough. "George, let me hold you," she growled. He grinned up at her and she did her best to glare menacingly. "Come here."

He let go of her wrists to cup her cheeks, kissing her deeply in the dappling sunlight of the forest. She wrapped her ankles around him and held firmly to his waist, pulling him towards her, moaning happily as they were connected. He murmured her name, over and over, and she clung to him as for her life.

"Don't go…" she gasped, pulling him close, wishing they could always stay like this, locked together in this perfect moment, this precious memory. "Don't go!"

Marina woke to a salty taste on her lips, and warmth between her legs that she worried might be urine, but a quick check assured her was arousal. She licked the tears from her lips. "That was the day you were conceived," she whispered, willing it to be true. It could have been one of several times she and George had made love, but she hoped it had been that day, that beautiful day they had spent picnicking in the forest between their houses, exploring the woods and each other.

Her reverie was interrupted by a polite tapping at the door. Marina pushed her face into her pillow, wishing she could go back to sleep, back to the dream. "I am awake," she called out, and a moment later she heard his footsteps retreating down the stairs. She dressed herself, happy to leave off the form-crushing stays that had dominated the last month of her time in London. She did put on a flowing gown and a high-waisted jacket, so that her belly wouldn't be obvious to the casual observer. She took the dowry envelope off the armoire and slid it into her jacket before heading downstairs to meet her husband for breakfast.

He had set out a simple breakfast already – bread and preserves and milk to drink. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, and she wondered if she had cried out in her sleep, and if he could hear her through their adjoining wall.

"You needn't have made breakfast," she said instead, preferring not to talk about her night. She sat down at the table and he seated himself opposite.

"I'm used to serving myself. It hardly makes sense not to put out a second serving at that point."

Marina raised her eyebrows. 'So you don't trouble yourself for me then?' She forced her bitterness to the side. It would do her no good, especially given she was forced to live with this man. She opted for silence instead, which seemed to suit him just fine.

They headed out after breakfast on foot. "It isn't too far to the bank. I hope you don't mind walking?" he asked, indicating the direction they would go up the street.

She shook her head and stepped out, breathing the morning air into her lungs. She knew it was silly, but she could almost feel the difference out here. She felt she had been cooped up in that house for too long. "It will feel good to stretch my legs."

They walked in silence through the town, Philip tipping his hat to people as they passed, though no one stopped to wish them good morning. Were people giving them queer looks, or was she being overly sensitive? She had never spent much time in Hampstead, preferring to spend her time roaming the estate on foot, or on horseback whenever possible, with her siblings her closest companions. She vaguely recognized some faces from church, but she couldn't put names to any of them.

"Philip Crane! Good morn to you!" Marina turned to see an older woman – she looked to be several years older than George's mother – with a young lady on her arm walking towards them. Philip's back stiffened, and he bowed to them.

"Mrs. Carmody."

"I see you are on your way somewhere, so I won't bother you, but I thought, when I saw you walking down the street there, that this must be the new Mrs. Crane, and I simply had to get a look at her, if you'll forgive an old woman her curiosity." She laughed, and Marina detected the faintest eye roll from her companion.

"Certainly. Mrs. Carmody, my wife, Mrs. Marina Crane." It was so strange, still, to hear her name called thus. She had dreamed of it for so long, true, but not like this. "Mrs. Crane, this is Mrs. Carmody, and her niece Miss Elena Smith."

Marina nodded to them, and Elena performed a nice little curtsy. She was a plain faced girl, with broad cheeks generously sprinkled with freckles, and grayish tinted brown hair. She was dressed in a simple style that suited her looks, and utterly contrasted with her aunt's ostentatious display. Marina thought the finery looked foolish on the old woman, especially so early in the day.

"Well, isn't she a beauty? However did you manage to catch this one?" Mrs. Carmody asked Philip, laughing waspishly. "I heard you are one of the Thompson girls, from that farm to the East?"

"My father owns property there, yes," Marina answered coldly.

Mrs. Carmody squinted at her. "How odd, that I can't recall seeing you around… Well! You Thompson children were always going about in a big gaggle anyhow; how am I to pick any one of you out?"

Marina was quickly growing to dislike this old woman.

Mrs. Carmody turned her attention back to Philip, to Marina's relief, and his evident discomfort. "Well! Perhaps now that you are married yourself you will give up this foolishness with Mrs. Patterson? You would not want his nightmare to happen to you, would you?"

"Certainly not," Philip said, somehow sounding even stiffer than usual. "I wouldn't want it to happen to Mrs. Crane either." He bowed to Mrs. Carmody and her niece. "We really must be off. Good morning ladies." He strode away, Marina stepping briskly to keep up, ignoring Mrs. Carmody's indignant noises. Marina reached out and held Philip's elbow, partly to keep him from walking away from her as well, and partly from a feeling of solidarity with him against that terrible woman. He slowed his pace a bit so she could walk comfortably next to him, and she sneaked a sideways glance at him. He looked perhaps a bit gloomier than normal.

"Well, that was rather unpleasant," she commented lightly.

"I apologize. I did say I am not popular in town…" He looked down at his feet, as though he had reason to be ashamed. Perhaps some people would chastise him for his rudeness to the old lady, but Marina was not among them.

"Her poor niece. Does she have to spend much time with the woman?" Marina asked.

Philip blinked at her, and then he smiled a little. "Unfortunately yes. Mrs. Carmody has taken Elena in as her ward. The Smiths haven't any money, and Mrs. Carmody has no children."

"Well thank heaven for small mercies," Marina said with a snort. "Still. No amount of money would make living with that woman bearable."

Philip smiled. "Indeed. So few of us live in our ideal conditions…" He looked up at the building to the left. "Here we are." He opened the door to the bank for her, and she stepped into a dimly lit room with two counters set against the back wall. Philip went to one of the men behind the counter and said, "We are here to open a new account."

"Very good sir. Please wait a moment. I will fetch Mr. Glassen to help you." He rang a bell on the back wall and turned back. "Have a seat, if you like."

Marina sat in one of the chairs offered, and had to stand only a moment later when a short bespectacled man appeared from a door to the left. "Good day to you Mr. Crane. How can I help you today?" he asked.

"We are here to open an account for my wife," Philip said.

Mr. Glassen glanced furtively at the other two men, as though nervous that they should have heard what Philip said, but they both had their heads down, busy with their work. "Please, let us talk in my office." He ushered them in and indicated for them to sit, then settled himself behind his large desk. "You wish to open another account Mr. Crane?"

"No, my wife is opening an account." Marina took the dowry money from her jacket, expecting this to be her cue, but Mr. Glassen barely acknowledged her presence.

Instead he laughed nervously. "Are you telling me you wish to start a new – separate – account for this woman? For her own income? With what money?"

"With this money," Marina said, holding out the envelope, but Mr. Glassen ignored her still.

"Would you perhaps like to speak alone with me?" he asked Philip, beginning to sound desperate.

"Why should I? It is her account."

Mr. Glassen snapped. He threw his arms up in the air and declared, "What is the purpose? Mr. Crane - I know that you are a so-called 'modern man', but this is as good as asking your wife to run away!"

Marina was feeling ready to snap herself. "Is there a problem?" she asked, leaning forward. "Are you unable to open a new account or simply foolish enough to turn away new customers based on your own insecurities?" Mr. Glassen did look at her then, looking satisfyingly shocked. "If you do not want my business, I am certain I can find another bank that does. I am also certain I can convince my husband and my family to place their funds in the hands of someone less… spineless." Marina got to her feet, and to her relief Philip did as well. If he had chosen to go against her then her bluff would have utterly failed.

"Mr. Glassen, we have done business for many years," Philip said. "I would hate to have to end all that because you don't respect my choice to let my wife run away from me." He spoke the last so mildly, so unexpectedly, that Marina had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter and ruining the effect their anger was having on Mr. Glassen.

"Wait! Please sit down! This had gotten all out of proportion," Mr. Glassen said, smiling ingratiatingly at them both. "I merely wished to protect you Mr. Crane. If my concern offended you, I apologize."

Marina scoffed at his weak apology, but she sat back down, and Philip did as well. Mr. Glassen cleared his throat and pulled a piece of paper from his desk. "Now then, here are the terms and conditions for you to read and sign before we get started…" He held the paper out towards Philip, and Marina grabbed it from him. "If you have any questions about the terms…"

"I'm quite capable of reading them, if you will let me," Marina snapped, and he withdrew, sulking. Philip was silent, letting her read, and once she had finished she held out her hand to Mr. Glassen. "I just have to sign here?"

He handed her a quill and slid an ink pot towards her. "Yes. And then you must make a deposit to initiate the account."

Marina nodded and signed the paper, then handed him the dowry money he had ignored earlier. His eyes widened when he saw the amount. "And we are depositing… the full amount… in her account?" He asked Philip, who simply nodded. "You know," he said, giving it one last try, "we can set up a couple's account, with husband and wife both having access…"

"Mr. Glassen…" Philip warned, and the other man lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"Yes, yes, of course. You have decided. Give me a moment. I shall get this set up for you, then she is ready to spend her money." He went back to the front room, closing the door behind him.

When he had gone Marina looked over at Philip, expecting reproach perhaps, for being so aggressive, but he just nodded to her. "You handled him very neatly," he said softly, and Marina couldn't help laughing a little, trying to be quiet so Mr. Glassen would not hear.

"And you! 'Respect my choice to let my wife run away.' Ha!"

He grinned. "He was being ridiculous."

"Ah yes – he is the ridiculous one."

"I don't know what you mean," Philip said. "Every woman should have the right – and the means – to run away from her husband."

Marina had to turn her wheezing laughter into a cough as the door opened and Mr. Glassen returned. "Mrs. Crane, I have opened your account. Here is your account book. You may use it to keep track of your spending and your account balance." He handed her a small, palm sized book. "You may approach the teller at the front of our bank to withdraw funds."

Marina stood and nodded to him. "Thank you for your co-operation today Mr. Glassen." He smiled at her somewhat queasily. "Good day sir."

"Good day Mrs. Crane. Mr. Crane."

Marina stopped by the teller to withdraw five pounds before leaving, making a note of it in her book. It was extremely satisfying – for many reasons – to have the teller hand her the money, and to write the balance of her account – her own money – in her little book. She slipped her arm through Philip's elbow as they left, feeling buoyant with their small victory. "That was fun!"

Philip smiled slightly. "I'm glad you think so."

"Do you not? Did I go too far?"

"Not at all. I am simply unused to such spirited encounters."

"Aren't you a lawyer? Isn't that what you do?"

"Legal arguments are very different. Quite boring in comparison, I think you would find. Besides, most of what I do is not litigation. Our bread and butter at Locke and Crane is contract law."

"Hm." Marina had been unimpressed with what she had heard of contract law thus far.

"I must return to the office," Philip said. "Will you return with me, or did you want to spend some of your five pounds before returning to the house?"

She didn't miss that he avoided calling the place her home. She let go of his arm and stepped away. "Yes, I think I will do a little shopping this morning."

"Then I shall leave you to it," he said, doffing his hat to her – she would have to tell him to stop acting so formally towards her – before leaving. "Good morning."

"Good morning Philip." She watched him striding away for a moment, then shook herself and looked around. She was a married woman now, and one with her own money to spend too. She could get what she liked – when was the last time she had had a chance like this?

She first went to buy fabric, buying a good length of white for a baby's smock, and then realized she needed to buy the needles and thread as well. She had none of those things with her anymore. She saw a pretty set of embroidery thread and bought that as well, and when she left the store she was quite weighed down already. She would have liked to have a beau with her to help carry everything.

"I've got you instead," she murmured to her son, resting the soft bundle of fabric over her belly. She stopped by the bakery as well, to buy some fresh bread and sweets to share with Mrs. Crane when she came by in the afternoon. On the way back to Philip's house (if he did not want to call it her home, then she would not either) she passed a man selling roasted chestnuts from his cart and bought a bag to snack on. She thought to herself that if she ended up spending her entire dowry on food, it would be money well spent.

She went in through the back lane, visiting the privy and filling a bucket with water before going in. By the time she had put her purchases in her room and sat down in the parlour she was feeling pleasantly exhausted.

She spent another enjoyable afternoon with Mrs. Crane, snacking and trading stories of George, planning the future for his child. Marina asked Mrs. Crane to keep an ear out for any good maids looking for part time work. "I can handle most things, but I would like to have someone come once a week maybe, to help with the laundry and the heavier chores, especially as my condition progresses."

Mrs. Crane seemed to like this idea immensely, and congratulated Marina on her good thinking. This was a little bit odd, Marina thought, as she had heard Mrs. Crane telling Philip that she would hire a maid herself if he didn't, not three days ago. "I shall write to all my friends as soon as I return home. We shall find you the best woman for the job!"

"Thank you."

"I really must go now, but we shall take care of your problem!" Mrs. Crane said, getting up and heading for the door. She was the kind of woman who always seemed to be moving, always seemed busy. "Oh! I almost forgot – I brought you a gift today."

She pulled a small frame out of her bag and handed it to Marina. She took it and looked down at a small portrait of George, looking out at her with a slight smile on his lips. Marina felt tears prick her eyes suddenly, seeing him again like this.

"I have mourned twice for George," she said, touching his face lightly. "Once when I thought he had abandoned me, and again when I learned of his death. I wish I had known him when we were younger. I feel that I knew him such a short time, but now I shall love him and miss him the rest of my days… It hardly seems fair."

Mrs. Crane moved closer, placing her hands on Marina's shoulders. "It is not fair, my child," she said, and pulled her into an embrace. "Nothing is fair, when a bright young man is lost in the prime of his life. It isn't fair, for a mother to mourn her child, or a young wife to mourn her husband."

Marina looked up at Mrs. Crane, surprised to hear her call Marina George's wife like that, so easily. If only saying it could make it true.. "Thank you. It's beautiful," she said emphatically.

"I didn't know if he had ever sent you a portrait to remember him by, but I thought you should have this," Mrs. Crane said. She noticed Marina's tears and embraced her. "I miss him too."

"Every day…" Marina whispered, clinging to Mrs. Crane. Somehow time was not healing her wounded heart, only making the loss harder to bear.

"He is always close to my heart," Mrs. Crane said. "He is always with me." She kissed Marina's cheek and patted her hand. "I will return soon."

"Please do," Marina said. Thus far, she was her only friend in Hampstead.

Once Mrs. Crane left, the house felt very empty and lonely and Marina went out into the back yard to avoid the creaking quiet there. She sat in the sun and stared at George's portrait. He was so handsome, with that devilish little curl at the corner of his mouth. They hadn't got his eyes quite right – he was missing the mischievous look he always sported. The George in this portrait was a proper young man, in his prime, ready to take on the world, and fight for his country.

Ready to die in a foreign land.

Philip met her out there, coming out of the kitchen with a pot in his hand. "Ah, there you are," he said, putting the pot down by the pump. "How was my mother's visit today?"

"It was good. She gave me this." Marina showed him the miniature of George, she wasn't sure why. Hoping to get a rise out of him maybe, some emotional response to prove he had feeling.

She was disappointed in that hope. "Ah yes, she had that painted just before he left for the military academy," Philip said, nodding slightly. "It is a good likeness." He went to the pump and started to fill the pot with water.

"Mm, very." Marina looked at the portrait again. "So this is from before we met…" She looked up and watched Philip at work. Once he had finished pumping the water he nodded to her and went back inside. She followed him, wondering at his behavior. He was so different, now that they were alone again. He had been amusing, almost charming that morning at the bank, but now he was stiff and awkward again.

"I asked her to help me find a maid to hire," she said, returning to business. "Just once a week, to come help with certain things. I shall pay for it from my own funds, so you needn't worry about the expense."

"I never said I could not afford it…"

"No matter – I can afford it. At least until the baby is born. It will be good to have some help."

"As you like." She watched him move about the kitchen, getting himself dinner. He didn't look at her. This was his house; he was perfectly comfortable in it without her.

She wondered if he hated her, for her part in all this.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" Philip asked, not so much an invitation as a disinterested inquiry.

She suddenly felt that she couldn't stand it, to spend another dinner with his indifference. She had had a man who loved her - she had been so close to living in a home full of love - and now there was only Philip, who had never asked for her either. "No, I… I'm quite full still from tea with your mother. I think I shall go lie down for a bit."

"Are you unwell?"

"No, not at all. Just a little tired."

"Ah. Very well." He turned away, no longer interested.

Marina went upstairs and placed the miniature of George on her bedside table, so that she could fall asleep looking at his face. 'Please, let me dream of him,' she prayed. 'Please let me meet him again.'