Marry in Haste (The Vaughns #2)

Chapter 17

“W ouldn’t this just be lovely for curtains?” Sadie held up a length of yellow wool with cream fleur de lis embroidered in a repeating pattern.

“It would bring some much-needed lightness to your parlor when they are closed,” said Mother with a nod.

Brushing a gloved hand across the bolt, Joanna tried not to worry her lip as she considered it. The cost wasn’t so very dear that she needed to agonize over the decision, and they could always be replaced if she decided they didn’t suit, but the thought of wasting the funds made her insides twist together.

So many choices.

Whilst Joanna had a trousseau of sorts, it was shabby compared to that of most brides, as she hadn’t been allotted a proper engagement during which to place the finishing touches. Granted, it was difficult to prepare for one’s future household when one didn’t know what the building looked like. And even the most thorough of preparations couldn’t grant every linen, decoration, and dish required to meet the needs of the new family.

“You needn’t decide this very moment,” said Mother, glancing at Joanna from the corner of her eye.

“But we require curtains. And pillows, dishes, furniture, wall hangings, rugs—”

“Breathe, Joanna,” said Mother with a little laugh, shifting so she stood in front of her daughter-in-law. “Your new home includes most of the important furnishings you’ll require. Anything else can be purchased at your leisure.”

The shop smelled of freshly pressed cotton, mingled with wool and the subtle scent of the lavender sachets tucked among the bolts to ward off moths. Shelves reached to the ceiling, stacked with sturdy serges and broadcloths, satins so lustrous they glowed in the dim light, and linens in crisp whites and soft pastels.

An expansive window faced the narrow high street, showcasing Mr. Arlow’s many wares, and at the heart of the display was a full skirt of crimson wool, carefully arranged on a dressmaker’s dummy with matching braid trim—which was entirely impractical in the roiling heat of summer but displayed the rich color to its best advantage. A large wooden counter stretched across the room, its surface covered with shears, measuring tapes, and spools of thread, along with the myriad of bolts they’d chosen.

Gesturing to the selection, Mother said in a calm tone, as though worried she’d spook Joanna further, “Which of these do you like the least?”

Eyes darting over the different colors, Joanna bit her lip. “The pink. There is already far too much of it in the room.”

Mother waved for the clerk to remove those, and Sadie pointed to the fabric she’d chosen.

“Yellow goes with almost any color.” Tugging at the corner, the young lady draped it over the leftover bolts of blue and green. “The buttery hue is divine, and the embroidery is understated—which suits your style but gives it an eye-catching texture.”

“And it’s a nice, heavy wool that will help keep the room warm in the winter,” said Mother with a nod.

Glancing between the options, Joanna forced herself to stop hedging and pointed to the yellow. “It is perfect, Sadie.”

Her sister-in-law beamed, and in a trice, the ladies had the length ordered, along with matching braid and cording. Before Joanna knew what she was about, Mother had the trio ushered out of the draper’s store with orders for their purchases to be delivered posthaste.

“Are you afraid I will change my mind?” asked Joanna with a chuckle.

“We’ve been there for over an hour,” said Mother, her eyes widening.

Clutching her reticule, she snuck a glance at the lady. “I am sorry for being so indecisive—”

“Nonsense,” said Mother, shaking her head. “When we settled in Thornsby, I had to arrange the entire household, and Arthur suffered through weeks of my fretting about each purchase and decision.”

That helped to ease the fluttery feelings plaguing Joanna’s insides, though as they meandered down the streets, she couldn’t release the unease that had taken hold of her since the moment it had been suggested that she and Edward ought to set up their own home.

For all that this was Thornsby’s “high street,” it felt nothing like the thoroughfares Joanna was familiar with. Sunlight poured down, casting a golden sheen on the slate roofs and bringing out the warm, weathered tones in the stone buildings. Cottages and shops lined the road so closely that they provided a bit of a shield from the sun, and a faint breeze teased the signs that hung from the shop.

The distant boom of the church bell marked the hour, and if Joanna strained her ears, she swore she heard the faint bleating of the sheep in the fields surrounding the village. For all that London prized itself as the heart of civilization, Joanna couldn’t help but note that though far smaller, the streets were cleaner without the hordes of people and animals streaming through them every hour.

As the others enjoyed some time examining the offerings in the haberdashery’s windows, Joanna’s gaze drifted to the tailor’s shop just three doors down. The rooms above awaited their new master and mistress, and though a shiver of anticipation had her imagining what it would be like when they entered their first home tomorrow, Joanna couldn’t help but wonder how this change would alter matters.

Mother turned her gaze in Joanna’s direction before noticing where her daughter-in-law’s attention was fixed. Leaning close so that Sadie wouldn’t hear, she said, “This is the right decision.”

Nodding as expected, Joanna did not voice the worries that had her shoulders tensing. Of course, this was the proper thing to do, and it was certainly good for Edward to strike off on his own. Yet…

“It is a tad small, but it is a good size for a newly married couple,” added Mother. “Arthur and I spent the first several months of our marriage under his father’s roof, and it is difficult to be on the cusp of being your own people yet still living with your parents. We couldn’t afford to do otherwise, but with Eddie’s income and your dowry, there is money aplenty for a set of modest rooms.”

Another nod and Joanna feigned a smile for the lady, who studied her very carefully. With furrowed brows, Mother waited a long moment before adding, “And of course, we will visit regularly. Every day if you wish.”

And with that, Joanna felt as though she could breathe again. Shoulders lowering, she nodded. “That does sound lovely.”

“My girl, we are not tossing you out,” she whispered.

Blinking quickly, Joanna nodded, turning her gaze to the store window as heat flickered to life in her chest. Mother stepped closer, slipping her arm through Joanna’s without a word and holding it fast. Sadie pointed out a length of crimson ribbon, and somehow, Joanna managed to answer the question before the trio continued on their way.

Their journey home took far longer than necessary as they couldn’t go past any window without one of the party pointing out something of interest, but it wasn’t long before Joanna spied Hawthorne House in the distance. Being set back from the street, the building stood out from among its neighbors, and though a wall firmly divided the public thoroughfare from the private grounds, the gate always stood open, welcoming any who required the village physicians.

The plaster gleamed white, providing a striking contrast to the timber beams and the thick ivy that crawled along the corners. Flowers sprang from the planting beds, sparkling with pinks, purples, yellows, and oranges, and climbing roses arched over the doorway, filling the world with their heavenly scent; even if it hadn’t been so very warm this spring, Joanna would’ve kept her bedchamber windows open all day and night so that she could bask in that sweetness.

Depositing their things beside the front door, the ladies took to the parlor to discuss the progress made and await the deliveries that were soon to appear on their doorstep. Just as they were settling into their respective seats, Martha entered with a bob.

“Post has arrived,” she said, sweeping into the room and offering the salver to Mother, who took the pile and handed over a single missive to Joanna.

“Is that from friends or family?” asked Sadie.

Studying the penmanship, she shook her head. “I don’t recognize the hand.”

Joanna slid the edge of her nail beneath the seal and carefully pried the wax away so as not to rip and ruin the contents. Unfolding it, she glanced at the signature before immediately flipping the page over to ensure that it was her name written above the address and not Edward’s. Why was Mortimer Bell writing to her?

My dearest Mrs. Vaughn,

I find myself compelled to put pen to paper, as the burden upon my conscience grows heavier with each passing day, and it is with profound regret that I write, seeking to apologize for the grievous wrong that was done to you. What began as a jest among friends—a foolish prank meant to rattle Eddie—spiraled beyond our intentions, leaving you and my dear friend to bear the consequence, and I shudder to think how carelessly we toyed with your life.

Straightening, Joanna stared at the words, her eyes darting back to the beginning to read them once more. A prank? Her strength drained away, seeping into the cushions beneath her, and she stared at the words, her head growing lighter as she struggled to comprehend them. There was only one prank of note that had occurred in her life, but Joanna knew that couldn’t be the one he meant because Mr. Bell spoke as though it was a bad thing.

Awareness broke through the numbing fog that had stolen away the feeling in her limbs, picking at her as she tried to cling to the lie she’d so willingly accepted—spoken from the lips of a lady desperate to be free of her chaperone duties.

No, there must be some mistake.

I should have recognized the potential ramifications of our actions, yet I allowed mirth and folly to cloud my judgment, and as I pen this letter, I feel the sharp sting of guilt gnawing at my very soul. The knowledge that my foolishness contributed to your distress is a burden I shall carry with me for the rest of my life. I am sorry for my part in your ill-fated marriage.

Cold fingers ran down Joanna’s spine, making every inch of her skin break out in gooseflesh, and her ears rang as though the church bell was clanging right beside her. Edward hadn’t wanted to marry her. The announcement hadn’t been some silly misunderstanding but a cruel joke that, no matter what Mr. Bell claimed, had been directed at her as much as it had been at Edward.

They could’ve chosen any lady, but they’d chosen Joanna Crosby. And who better to unsettle their friend but the most discomforting option for his false bride—the silly girl who fawned over him at every opportunity, whose unwanted attentions embarrassed Edward the most?

“Good heavens, what is the matter?” asked Sadie, leaning closer.

“I am well enough,” said Joanna, not caring in the slightest that it was a bald-faced lie. Forcing her legs to move, she rose from her seat, though they threatened to dump her on the ground. Unable to meet either lady’s gaze, she struggled to squeeze words past her throat. “I just need a few minutes to myself.”

Mother’s brows crinkled as Joanna stumbled over excuses and apologies, but Sadie rose alongside her sister-in-law.

“You look liable to fall over,” she said, hurrying to Joanna’s side. “Should I send for some tea?”

The letter crinkled in her fist, and Joanna forced her fingers to relax as she gave a sharp shake of her head. “No. I just… I need…”

Joanna didn’t know what to say, but she mumbled something as she tried to extricate herself from the well-meaning lady. Despite being unable to look at either, she felt their gazes boring into her skin, making the heat pulse within her.

Had they known? The only explanation she’d heard Edward give was the ludicrous tale she’d believed for so long, but had he kept the truth even from his family?

“Clearly, something is wrong—”

“Leave it be, Sadie!” The words snapped from Joanna’s lips before she could regulate her tone or meaning, and Sadie jerked away, her eyes falling to the floor. Joanna’s conscience pricked at her, prodding her to say something, but she didn’t trust herself to speak while Mr. Bell’s words rang through her mind, serving as the death knell for her marriage.

Spinning away, Joanna hurried up the stairs and didn’t stop until she was safely locked in her bedchamber. The paper crumpled in her hands as she fell upon the pillows, and tears blurred her vision as they wetted the fabric; with her free hand, she covered her mouth, stifling the heaving breaths that threatened to alert the entire household.

Thoughts spinning free of her control, Joanna’s mind filled with the past two months, replaying each moment anew without the fog of affection clouding her vision. In all that time, Edward had been kind and tender, behaving in ways that supported the lie she’d believed, lending weight to her denial that longed to cast aside Mr. Bell’s assertion.

Yet in all those moments—the intimacies, the tokens, and the heartfelt discussions—Joanna couldn’t recall a single time Edward had said he loved her. Not once.

Perhaps it had been some unconscious sense of self-preservation, but she’d never allowed herself to give more than he’d given her; Edward was always the instigator. And Joanna knew she’d never said the words to him, and now, the absence she’d ignored felt like a gaping wound, throbbing in her chest.

There was more to read, and though her heart cracked open, she couldn’t look away from the words scrawled across the page.

In truth, I am not writing to ask for your forgiveness, as I know I do not deserve it. But I am certain Eddie has never admitted the truth about why I attended your wedding, and you deserve to know how honorable and good your husband is.

In my misguided attempts to rectify my blunder and right my wrong, I offered to take his place at the church altar, but Eddie patently refused. Though he claimed it was to protect you from further speculation and embarrassment, I saw the truth beneath the polite dismissal. He knew I would be a terrible husband to you.

Protecting your reputation wasn’t enough for Eddie, and his honor refused to allow him to abandon you into the care of a man who would make your life a misery. And how right he was. The very thought of my unworthiness fills me with shame, forcing me to reevaluate not only my actions but my very character.

Though I fear I may never be absolved of this sin, I take solace in the knowledge that Eddie is a man of great character and integrity and will be as good a husband as any woman could wish, and I hope that by my sharing this secret you will find greater happiness in your marriage.

Please accept my humble apologies.

With deepest regrets,

Mortimer Bell

Heat chased away the chill, making Joanna’s cheeks blaze; it felt as though flames were licking at her skin, threatening to consume her. In a flash, she pictured the moments before their wedding; two men bickering in the nave, arguing over which of them would be shackled to such an undesirable creature.

Perhaps the knowledge that Edward had been kind enough to take on the dreaded Miss Crosby ought to ease some of the pain pulsing through her, but Joanna’s whole being throbbed anew as tears wetted her pillows. Clutching a spare one to her mouth, she stifled the sobs that shook her.