Chapter 9 #3
“So young! How could your parents bear to let you leave home?”
Mr. Corbyn seemed as if he were about to shrug, but suppressed the gesture while it was still a mere twitch of his shoulder. He really was trying to be on his best behavior tonight.
“Most cabin boys start on at about that age,” he replied lightly. “It’s not that young.”
If his naval service had been anything like her brother’s, he probably hadn’t had the chance to come back and see his family since then either.
It struck her as terribly sad. At least Eli had been a young man when he’d joined the navy, but Mr. Corbyn had been nothing more than a child.
At eleven, Hannah had still been ensconced in the safety of her schoolroom, under the watchful eye of her governess.
She couldn’t imagine being thrown into the dangers of a storm or battle at sea. He must have been so scared.
Perhaps his experiences were what had hardened him into his present, rather gruff exterior.
“The navy isn’t really supposed to take them any younger than thirteen now,” Eli added. “But exceptions are made. It helps young men get their six years of sea time faster so they can take the lieutenant’s exam.”
“Did you take the lieutenant’s exam?” Hannah asked.
“Yes.” Mr. Corbyn spoke without any emotion. “I passed, but there wasn’t a vacancy for me. The wait can be long if you aren’t well connected.”
He’d been discharged before his chance had come. How thoughtless of me. Hannah should have realized he wouldn’t want to talk about his service. She didn’t dare another comment for the rest of the main course, afraid to put her foot in her mouth again.
When the meal was done, they all retired to the parlor together, their number being too small to support the division of the men from the ladies.
Sensing her chance, Hannah contrived to place herself next to Mr. Corbyn on the settee.
All she needed now was a distraction so that she might whisper in his ear.
“Won’t you please play a song for us, Jane?” she asked hopefully. “Something lively, if you please.”
By which I mean something loud.
Jane—who regularly neglected her practice in favor of such things as caring for her daughter or earning her livelihood—shot an indignant look in Hannah’s direction. “Why don’t you play, Hannah? You’re much more talented than I am.”
“I couldn’t,” she replied swiftly. “Nerves, you know.”
Jane proved unable to find a polite way to refuse the request, rose from her seat, and marched stiffly to the instrument. Despite the occasional false note, she managed a passible rendition of a folk song by Haydn. More importantly, everyone in the room turned to listen.
“Stop trying to please my mother,” Hannah whispered quickly, while the music hid her words.
“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Mr. Corbyn hissed back, leaning in a little closer as he spoke, the heat of his breath tickling her ear.
Hannah’s skin turned to gooseflesh at the sudden nearness of him.
His familiar scent of freshly laundered sheets and something warmer.
“Why did you call me here, if not to pretend to be your suitor?”
She’d forgotten how fierce he looked when he was cross. His blue eyes were so intense that she had trouble holding their gaze for more than an instant. Just as well. It was safer to keep her attention fixed ahead; she didn’t want Mama to notice them whispering if she happened to look over.
“I need you to pretend to want to marry me, but not to win my mother over,” she explained quickly. “She has to be the one to refuse the match. If I do it, she’ll only try to pair me with someone worse.”
Corbyn shot her a look.
“That came out wrong,” Hannah amended. “You’d be a wonderful match for some other lady.
I’m sure there must be plenty of women who’d love to—” Oh dear.
She was babbling. And now her face was turning red.
“Never mind that. Just act like you’re in love with me, but then do something to make her hate you again.
It shouldn’t be hard. Just swear a bit or spill a drink on her and this can all be over with before the evening is out. ”
“So you want me to make a fool of myself.”
Oh dear. This wasn’t going well at all. Mr. Corbyn’s jaw was tight and his eyes had taken on an icy chill. She hadn’t meant to insult him. Surely he must be able to see that this was a matter of dire necessity, not a comment on his character.
“Of course not,” she tried to reassure him. “I’m not asking you to look foolish, only…”
Rude? Low-class? Completely unacceptable as a husband? Nothing she might say sounded any better.
Corbyn seemed to realize that she was at a loss, for he cut her off without compunction. “I expect you’re willing to pay?”
It sounded almost menacing when he said it in that low, even rumble.
But she didn’t have time to fret over Mr. Corbyn’s mood. Jane’s song was ending, and their conversation was about to be cut short.
“Yes,” she whispered. Then, in a louder tone, she issued a quick “Brava!” to her sister-in-law.
“That was lovely, Mrs. Williams.” Mr. Corbyn’s smile was tight. Without deigning to look at Hannah, he spoke in a low tone from the side of his mouth. “I want two hundred this time.”
She swallowed.
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Hannah’s mother had finally noticed their tête-à-tête, now that the music was no longer there to distract her.
“Nothing, Mama.” Hannah tried to look innocent, though she suspected she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
The truth was that her exchange with Mr. Corbyn had left her shaken.
She was fairly certain she’d offended him with her clumsy instructions.
Why had she worded it that way? If only there were some way to turn back time and do the whole thing over.
But of course there was no chance to explain herself, now that Mama had fixed her full attention on them again. Her gaffe with Mr. Corbyn had already done its damage. He thought that she looked down on him, and there was no way to persuade him otherwise.
“I don’t want to see any more of that sort of behavior. It’s time we had a frank talk about what I expect from you both if we are to proceed any further.”
Jane cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Corbyn, my husband and I need to step out for a moment.
We left our daughter at my cousin’s house for the evening so that she wouldn’t interrupt our dinner, but we need to collect her before it gets too late.
Please carry on without us. We’ll be back in a quarter hour. ”
No doubt they had planned things this way to give them some privacy. Eli and Jane looked perfectly happy to escape the awkward conversation as they hurried from the room.
Hannah sat up stiffly in her chair, bracing for the lecture to come. She had the absurd desire to hold Mr. Corbyn’s hand for strength, but caught herself before she could act on it.
Maybe you should act on it, a traitorous thought crept into her head. After all, you’re supposed to be pretending you’re in love.
She couldn’t. He was cross with her and she simply wasn’t brave enough. She would just have to ignore these troublesome impulses. Imagine what the weight of his hand in hers might feel like instead of reaching for it.
“Now.” Mama’s expression was stern as she looked from Hannah to her would-be suitor. “If you mean to marry my daughter, I expect you to do things properly this time. Half the ton heard about your…indiscretion”—her face soured on this word—“at my son’s club.”
“Jane’s club,” Hannah corrected softly.
Mama drew a swift breath at the interruption.
“As I was saying, I expect you to repair the harm you’ve done to my daughter’s reputation.
You will announce your engagement. You will announce your intention to join the military.
You will make an appearance at a few social events where you will be on your best behavior and impress upon everyone your good manners and fitness to participate in polite society, and you will do nothing else to cause a scandal.
” She paused for a moment, thinking. “We should perhaps make it appear that the engagement took place some time ago. People would be more forgiving of what they observed if they believed you were already promised to each other when it happened.”
Mr. Corbyn spoke very carefully, lingering on each syllable. “You were beating me over the head with your reticule, madam.”
“Well, I didn’t know about the engagement yet, obviously,” Mama replied. “It was a love match, concluded in secret, but I’ve come around to the idea now that I can see what a fine gentleman you are.”
She was trying very hard not to grind her teeth, and it showed.
“What about Papa?” Hannah interjected. “Have you received any reply from him yet? Won’t he want to come here and meet Mr. Corbyn for himself?”
It didn’t feel right to agree to an engagement—even a fake one—without his blessing.
And if she could get her parents in a room together, why, they might find a way to make peace again! If Mama was too stubborn to return home, this was the only other way to repair the rift between them.
“He’ll arrive in town presently.” Her mother didn’t seem to feel the need to elaborate any further.
It was perfect, now that Hannah thought about it.
What was more likely to bring her parents together than the engagement of their only daughter?
That was exactly the sort of thing that made people remember why they loved each other.
Hannah would just have to slip word to Mr. Corbyn to put off his spectacular failure until after their reconciliation took place.