Chapter 8
Eight
Marriage.
To Mr. Corbyn.
Hannah tried to speak, but her lips had transformed into useless lumps of meat. Was this another trap? It had to be. But Mama seemed perfectly earnest, fixing Hannah with a raised finger and a warning look as she outlined her plans.
“I expect him to make certain assurances to secure your hand. He’ll need to prove to me that he’s really the gentleman you claim. I want to meet him properly, without any skulking about, and hear him explain how he intends to support a family when he’s lost his livelihood.”
“Um—”
“And don’t tell me that he can go back to working at your brother’s club, young lady. That might be all well and good until he gets back on his feet, but it’s not a respectable profession.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
Her mother’s plans were so detailed, Hannah scarcely knew what to say. Mama didn’t seem to want her input anyway.
“Do you think he might be persuaded to join the army? Even if he were only an ensign, people would think him perfectly respectable then. Only don’t think for a minute that I’m giving up your dowry to buy the commission. We’ll settle all your money on your children. He’s not getting a penny.”
Children.
Her children. With Mr. Corbyn. The same man she’d begged and cajoled into helping her, who’d likely never expected to see her again.
Hannah was so agitated by this prospect, she nearly confessed the whole plot to Mama right then and there—everything from the money she’d snuck to his lodgings in payment for his kiss to the note she’d sent to summon his help sabotaging her call with Sir Richard.
This had gone too far. She couldn’t keep up the act any longer.
Wait!
Hannah bit her lip, though her secrets were burning to escape.
Was this exactly what Mama had planned? She’d been suspicious of Mr. Corbyn from the start, quizzing him on her favorite things and such. Maybe she’d decided to call Hannah’s bluff and was only waiting to see how long it would take her to crack.
And once I do, it will be straight back to Sir Richard with me. She had to hold strong, or all her hard work to escape the match would be undone in an instant.
“I–I thought you were determined to keep us apart.” Best to test the waters first. She would see how her mother reacted if she played along. “What changed your mind?”
Mrs. Williams pressed her lips into a narrow line before replying.
“If you’re determined not to listen to me, I don’t see what choice I have.
I still think you’ll regret the match, but I don’t wish to keep you cloistered away forever.
This might be your only chance to salvage what’s left of your reputation. ”
She really seemed to mean it.
No matter what I do, I’m trapped. Hannah couldn’t refuse Mr. Corbyn without exposing herself to an even worse fate. But if she agreed to the marriage, she would have to persuade Mr. Corbyn to play along until she could think of a way to escape with her freedom intact.
Hannah’s heart began to race at the thought of presenting herself at his lodgings once more, this time to break the news that her mother wanted them to marry.
You were such a help pretending to be in love with me.
Would you mind terribly if we pretended to be engaged too?
She couldn’t possibly say such a thing to him.
It was so embarrassing; she wanted to hide under her bed until sometime next year.
I have to make Mama abandon this idea of her own accord. But how?
Hannah spoke slowly, praying further inspiration would strike her soon. “What if Mr. Corbyn can’t meet your expectations?”
That should be easy enough. It wasn’t as though Mama even liked the fellow.
All he had to do was swear too often or chew with his mouth open, and the whole business might be forgotten.
It should come naturally to him. After all, he’d had trouble minding his language at the club during his astonishingly brief stint as a dealer.
“Do you doubt him? You’ve been very quick to argue his merits in the past.”
Careful. Hannah pretended not to see the suspicious look her mother shot her way.
“Of course I don’t doubt him. He’s perfectly wonderful.
” She tried to keep her tone light. If a slight tremor crept in, hopefully Mama would take it for excitement rather than abject terror at her current predicament.
“But you do seem to have set very high expectations, asking him to prove that he’s a gentleman and to buy a commission and whatnot. I only hope you won’t scare him away.”
If Mr. Corbyn openly rejected her, she couldn’t keep using their supposed romance as an excuse to refuse other suitors.
What he needed to do was fail. And not just a little bit. He needed to fail so spectacularly that Mama would have no choice but to back down.
How on earth am I going to pay him enough for all this?
Her winnings that first night at the gambling club had been a rare stroke of good fortune, but Hannah didn’t often have ready access to that sort of money.
If only there were some way she could get at her dowry.
Three thousand pounds, just sitting there uselessly in a bank when she had real need of it.
“I’m going to need new clothes,” she announced. That might serve. “If I’m to be a married woman soon, I need to look my best. And my trousseau doesn’t have more than a few linens in it. Might I have some money to go to the shops?”
Even if it was only a few pounds, it would go to show Mr. Corbyn that she could be trusted to pay him eventually. She might find a way to send little bits each week until she’d fulfilled her debt.
“Your trousseau wouldn’t be so empty if you’d been working on it like I asked you to instead of arguing that you didn’t need it. Whatever happened to that tablecloth you were supposed to embroider last winter? Did you even finish it?”
“Let’s not worry about the tablecloth now,” Hannah pleaded. It was gathering dust in their country house, along with her hopes and dreams of freedom. “Might I please have a little money?”
“I can take you to the modiste tomorrow.”
Drat. That was no good. She wouldn’t have any chance to pocket the funds and slip away to Mr. Corbyn’s house with her mother standing watch.
“Couldn’t I please go with Miss Annabelle? You haven’t let me see any of my friends in weeks.”
“You can see your friends again once Mr. Corbyn has proven he’s worthy of this family and made a formal offer for you in marriage. Not a moment sooner.” Mama frowned. “He can start by coming by the house for supper on Tuesday so that we can all meet him properly.”
“This Tuesday?” Hannah squeaked. That left her no time to plan! How was she to instruct Mr. Corbyn on his spectacular failure? What if he succeeded instead?
Wait, that doesn’t make any sense, she scolded herself.
It isn’t as though he actually wants to marry me.
The greatest danger wasn’t that he might persuade Mama that he could be a worthy groom; it was that he might grow tired of Hannah’s continual demands and expose their whole subterfuge before she’d regained control of the situation.
If only she weren’t so wretchedly dependent on him. It was her own fault for having kissed him in the office that night, but she’d never imagined how quickly that one little lie would spread. With every step, it only seemed to grow bigger, until it threatened to dictate all her actions.
“Your brother can extend the invitation.” Mama finally turned back to her floral arrangement, apparently considering the matter settled. “Do you think I’ve added too much lavender? I don’t want it to overpower the other elements.”
How could she think about flowers at a time like this? Hannah drew a shaky breath.
There was no need to panic. She could still turn things to her favor.
She would just have to find some way to get Eli to pass on a message to Mr. Corbyn along with his dinner invitation.
Some signal that would convey her desperate need for assistance without revealing anything to her brother.
After all, Mr. Corbyn had proven willing to help her so far.
Remarkably willing, in fact. Hannah might not enjoy having to rely on him again, but it was the only way to keep one step ahead of her mother.
This new turn was merely a wrinkle in her plans, not a defeat. Everything was still well under control.
* * *
“I’d like us to go to the hops warehouse this week,” Marian said over their supper of quail and fresh greens.
“We can think about our choices, once we have the funds to buy. I think it makes the most sense to focus on pale ale. We can’t afford the space to cellar much of the beer ourselves, so we’ll turn a better profit if we can ship it to India or America and let it cellar on the voyage. ”
Silas was silent as he chewed his meal. Marian’s cooking was a distinct improvement over the fare he’d been eating at the local public house before he’d moved his things over here.
Though he wasn’t sure he agreed with their decision to spend so much on rent, he had to admit that their lodgings were a vast improvement.
And Marian seemed to think that she could make valuable connections in this neighborhood, which was known for its breweries.
In the month since their arrival, they’d toured most of the larger breweries of London and invited more than one manager to dine with them.
Silas was learning a great deal. He only hoped he would get the chance to use any of it.
“When are you getting your funds, though?” James watched him expectantly. “It’s been a month and we still haven’t seen a tuppence from that chit. Don’t you think it’s time to march over there and demand what she owes?”
“How exactly am I supposed to do that without letting her family know that the whole thing was a ploy?”
The way James carried on, one would think Miss Williams owed him the money.
“I don’t see how that’s your concern,” James insisted. “You’ve given her more than enough time to pay.”