When Marina woke the next morning she could hear Philip downstairs in the kitchen, moving around. She lay in her bed and waited until she heard him go out the front door into the office before going downstairs herself. She didn't want to see him anymore; if she wasn't going to be able to get on with him, then it was best to see him as little as possible.
She managed to completely avoid him for the next few days. She spent her time visiting with his mother, or reading in the parlor, listening for his footsteps so she could retreat to her room. He stayed out later than usual for the next few nights. She thought he must be avoiding her as well; she had certainly been unpleasant enough to him.
She became quite friendly with the baker and the woman at the grocer, as she visited them nearly every day, shopping for her own groceries. She found she greatly enjoyed being able to choose all the food she would eat, to make all her decisions for herself. Who knew that marriage would be so freeing?
Philip must have noticed that she was bringing home all the groceries, because he started to leave pocket money on the kitchen table when he left for the day, so that she barely dipped into her own bank account, though she was always viciously happy to visit the bank and force the tellers to give her her own money. She made sure to give Mr. Glassen a cheerful little wave when she went in, and was pleased with the shudder that passed through him.
It had been a month and Mrs. Crane had not passed along any recommendations for a maid, so Marina ended up asking the grocer woman – Mary – if she knew anyone who was looking for work. "I'm only looking for a little extra help for now… with the little one on his way." She had been married to Philip for nearly two months now; she hoped it was acceptable to start mentioning a child on the way. Her son would make his own announcement of the fact soon enough anyway.
Mary paused in packing the eggs and greens into Marina's basket and looked at Marina with wide eyes. "Truly? Congratulations! And so soon!" She winked at Marina. "You two must have been very busy."
Marina laughed at how wrong she was. Well, about Philip. She and George had been quite 'busy'… She found herself blushing, and Mary understood it as embarrassment. "Oh listen to me! I'm sorry I'm so crude – five brothers you know! And in fact, I do have a niece who might do for you. She's plenty strong and hardworking, and her family could use the extra income."
She was in the kitchen the next morning when she heard the front door opening and Philip's soft voice talking to someone. She came around the corner and saw him leading a young woman into the house.
"-the house is back here." He turned and saw Marina standing in the hall and stiffened. It was at that moment that she realized she hadn't actually seen him in person for nearly two weeks.
He looked tired.
"Ah, here she is," he said, and then gestured to the young woman. "This is Harriet; she says she is here for a job."
Marina nodded and smiled at the young woman. She was big – taller than Marina, with wide shoulders. She wore her dark hair in two long braids and her broad cheeks were heavily freckled. She looked like she had spent her life outdoors, doing heavy lifting. Marina liked the look of her immediately.
"Hello ma'am." Harriet bobbed an awkward curtsy to Marina.
"I will leave you then," Philip said, and bowed out, eager to be away. He avoided meeting Marina's eye, ducking out without acknowledging her existence.
Marina tried not to glare after him too much, aware that Harriet was waiting for instruction from her. She smiled and waved her into the kitchen. "Nice to meet you Harriet; you can call me Marina." She led Harriet into the kitchen. "I just need some help with the heavier chores, maybe a couple days a week. Just until the baby is born."
Harriet nodded, her cheeks pink. "Yes ma'am." She kept her eyes down, not meeting Marina's eyes.
"You don't need to be nervous with me," Marina said, fed up with being avoided. She had enough simpering and cow-towing from Philip. "My parents are farmers, and all I want is someone to help me do laundry – I don't need you to stroke my ego."
Harriet smiled shyly. "Alright…"
They spent some time together, working side by side. By the end of the day Harriet was a little easier in Marina's company. Marina hoped she would relax – Harriet was making her feel like a Featherington, tiptoeing around her like she was a high class lady.
She gave Harriet her pay as she was leaving for the day. "Well? Will you come back next week?"
Harriet smiled. "Certainly ma'am. I think I can handle the work. Thank you."
"You can come through the back yard next time – not through the office out front."
Harriet quickly became indispensable to Marina. She was a good, practical sort, with an earthy sense of humor that reminded Marina of home, of the farm hands who had joked with her as a girl. Marina was tempted to ask Harriet to come help with the house work more often, just so she could have someone friendly to talk to, but she couldn't afford to bring Harriet on for more work. There wasn't much more work Marina could ask her to help with anyway - she dealt with most of it herself. Philip's presence was hardly felt in the house, so Marina really just had to clean up after herself.
Some weeks later they were out in the back yard together, Harriet hanging the laundry, and Marina sitting nearby shelling peas. She looked up and smiled at the sight of Harriet, tall with the sun shining behind her. Water droplets sparkled on her cheeks, bright freckles opposite the darker ones on her cheeks. Marina thought she looked like some sort of pagan goddess, an elemental creature of nature.
"I'm glad you hired me," Harriet said softly.
"Me too," Marina agreed, smiling.
Harriet smiled at her, then turned back to her work, clipping the sheets up on the line. "My pa wants me to get married," she went on. "He thinks I'm a burden, and now that I'm old enough… Working for you, at least I'm bringing home some money, to offset my costs." She blushed a handsome shade of red. "Not that I'm saying there's anything wrong with marrying. Only, I'm not ready for it yet."
Marina smiled grimly. "I understand that." She also understood how it felt to be considered a burden by your own parents, and it made her as angry as ever. "I'm not sure I was ready either…"
"How do you like it? Being married?"
Marina scratched her brow, considering. "I don't mind it. It's… quite comfortable, really. There was so much worry before I got married, and now it's…. it's almost boring, most days." She laughed and Harriet joined her, her deep chuckle filling the yard.
"I think you are lucky, with Mr. Crane," Harriet said. "He has always seemed very gentle, to me. I worry my husband will be a brute. You hear stories…"
Marina was quiet, imagining Philip from Harriet's perspective. How would she have seen him, if their relationship had not been coloured by the tragedy of losing George, and of forced marriage? She resented his soft manner and his avoidance behavior, but he had promised not to interfere with her life, and he had kept that promise. He could have forced himself on her, tried to control her life, but he had always left her to do as she wished, within the constraints of their marriage. Was he gentle? She imagined his face, smiling benignly as his friends made jokes at his expense, carefully considering her arguments around her dowry… Yes, she supposed he was gentle. Only, she had never looked for a gentle husband. George was not a gentle man – he was adventurous, teasing, exciting! That was what she had wanted…
She thought again of Philip and felt the usual irritation. Was she supposed to be grateful to him, just because he wasn't abusive? Did she have to thank him for simply being a decent human? She snorted to herself.
"Why do we have to have such low standards?" she growled. "Do I have to be happy just because my husband doesn't beat me?"
Harriet turned and frowned at her, and she realized what she had just said aloud. "Are you unhappy?" Harriet asked.
Marina laughed, trying to cover her tracks. "No, it's not that… I just get frustrated sometimes, by what women have to live with." She burst out in a sincere chuckle suddenly, realizing, "It's partly Philip's influence, with his drive for women's rights…"
That night she lay in bed, thinking about her husband. Her thoughts drifted to George, and she wondered for the first time about whether she would have married him, if she hadn't gotten pregnant. She loved him, yes, and the letters they exchanged were real, but had she been ready to be married? She wasn't much older than Harriet – she wasn't ready to give up her life to take care of someone else's. She felt tears welling up, and a pressure in her chest – the pressure of all the choices she had never been allowed to make for herself.
She heard Philip moving around in his room next door, getting ready for bed. She wished again that she had a real husband – someone she could talk to about her feelings, someone who would comfort her, someone who would care.