Chapter 16
Sixteen
Hannah awoke the next morning feeling utterly miserable.
She’d hardly slept a wink all night, though it was hard to say whether the blame lay with that utter disaster of a supper or her mother’s ice-cold feet kicking her every time she’d almost drifted off.
Then she’d woken so late on account of her poor sleep that she found the room empty and the sun streaming in through the windows when she called for her breakfast.
I’ll have my bed back when Papa returns to Devonshire without us, Hannah thought grimly. Without her engagement to keep him in town, she didn’t see how she could persuade him to stay.
Maybe he would take her with him. There was nothing left for Hannah in London now. Or more accurately, there had never been anything for her in London. It was only that sometime over the past few weeks with Mr. Corbyn, she’d grown too preoccupied with their scheme to remember that.
After he’d left last night, Hannah had calmly informed her family that her engagement was off.
No one had protested. How could they, after the spectacle they had just witnessed?
Though Jane and Eli had fussed over Hannah and seemed reluctant to leave her alone, she had assured them that she was perfectly fine, and only wanted to retire in peace.
The only person she’d expected might have some words about it was Mama, but she’d been strangely silent for the rest of the evening, not even saying a word when she’d slipped into bed beside Hannah a little while later.
Whether Mama felt a certain righteousness at being proven right about Mr. Corbyn all along or whether she was disappointed to see Hannah relegated to perpetual spinsterhood, it was impossible to say.
Papa had posed no such puzzle to read. He’d gone to his bed still muttering indignant commentary on Mr. Corbyn’s morals, parentage, and Mama’s utter failure to find an appropriate match for their daughter despite the fact that it was her only real responsibility in life.
He’s a browbeater, Hannah. He enjoys making other people feel small.
She wished she could shut the accusations out of her head, but they echoed again and again, complete with Mr. Corbyn’s final look of pity as he’d left her in the entryway.
Why couldn’t she stop seeing his face, and why did she feel so horrible?
Corbyn was wrong about them. He didn’t know her family. Yes, Papa hadn’t been at his best last night, but anyone would be short-tempered if their wife ran off. If Corbyn hadn’t called attention to it and started a row, they might have patched things up.
Hannah found herself inexplicably close to tears, but shook the feeling off with a rough toss of her head. She couldn’t afford to give in to self-pity. She had to figure out her next move.
Once she’d eaten and dressed, Hannah went to her father’s room. She knocked, received a gruff, “What is it?” and tiptoed inside.
“Oh, it’s you, poppet.” Her father didn’t smile exactly, but he didn’t seem displeased to see her. That was a good start.
“I wondered if we could talk for a moment.”
His eyes grew guarded. “There’s nothing else to say about that ruffian. You were right to cast him off. Your mother should have known better than to allow you to form an attachment to someone like that. A midshipman! Honestly!”
“Not that,” Hannah assured her father quickly, before he could work himself into more of a state. It wasn’t yet ten in the morning. “I meant about what your plans are now. I hope you might stay in town a little longer. I’m sure that Eli and Jane would love to have you.”
That might not be strictly true after how badly supper had gone, but there would be no chance to repair the damage if he left on a sour note. She had to convince him to fix things.
“Oh.” Papa was visibly taken aback by this. “I might stay a day or two, but you know I can’t abide the city. I don’t know why your brother insists on living here year-round. The air isn’t fit for anyone, least of all a baby. That girl will grow up with weak lungs, mark my word.”
Hannah was used to Papa’s little ruminations on whatever subject took his attention.
It was just his way. They generally faded into the background of her notice—like the sound of carriages rolling past or crickets chirping or any other sound one heard so often that it ceased to be audible at all, but now Hannah couldn’t seem to ignore them.
She kept imagining what Mr. Corbyn would think if he were here.
“Let’s not talk about the air,” Hannah pleaded. “I’m only trying to say that I want to see you.”
Papa scoffed. “You’ve seen me now. I can stay out the day if you like, but I really must go back tomorrow. I have obligations waiting for me.”
It was hard not to let her disappointment show. “Might I come back home with you, then?”
If he’d been surprised before, Papa grew downright uncomfortable at this.
“You know I love to see you, but Jacob and I had planned a foxhunt with the McAllisters before the season ends. You always say you don’t like to watch those.
And then it will be the spring planting.
We’ll be too busy to entertain you. Besides, it’s not seemly for a young woman to be alone with a bunch of men.
You’ll be happier here, where your mother and Jane can keep you occupied and see about finding you a husband. That’s women’s business.”
“Why can’t Mama come home with me?” If Hannah couldn’t persuade her mother to see reason, maybe Papa could help.
But he soured at this, suddenly irritated.
“I never said she couldn’t. She’s the one who insisted on running off to town, saying she could find you a husband more easily here, and look how that turned out!
I don’t see why you couldn’t just marry Mr. Keane’s eldest boy, from over near Hemerdon.
He never would have spoken back to his elders like that fellow you brought here last night. ”
“I don’t want to marry George Keane.” Hannah couldn’t take any more matchmaking.
It was even worse coming from her father because she hadn’t been expecting it.
Or maybe it was worse because she couldn’t think of her pathetic string of suitors now without comparing them to Mr. Corbyn and feeling the sting of his sudden departure afresh.
“I just want us to go back to the way things used to be. If you would talk to Mama, maybe you could—”
“Bah. It’s too late for that. She’s made her decision, and she’s welcome to it. I’m not going to beg my wife to stay in her own house. If you want to try to talk some sense into her, you can go right ahead, but I have nothing to apologize for.”
Hannah flinched away from the anger in his tone. I didn’t ask you to apologize.
Now he was all worked up again. She hadn’t made things any better by talking to Papa; she’d only made them a thousand times worse. She should have known better.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah found herself mumbling automatically, though she didn’t know what she’d done wrong. “I’m going to go downstairs. I’ll see you in a little while.”
She blinked back tears as she hurried away. Even Papa didn’t want her back home. What had it all been for, then? She’d worked so hard, she’d convinced Mr. Corbyn to do so much for her, and she’d promised him an impossible sum that she still hadn’t managed to pay, and for what?
Hannah paid no mind to where she was going, wanting only to put as much space as she could between herself and her father before she could do anything else to spoil things. When she rounded a corner, she nearly crashed into Eli and Jane.
“Careful,” he admonished, then took in the distress on her face. “Are you all right? Is it about Mr. Corbyn?”
“It’s not Mr. Corbyn, it’s Papa.” Hannah sniffled. She hated how utterly pathetic she sounded. “I want to go back to Devon but he says I have to stay with Mama, except she’s not going back home, is she? Not ever.”
Jane, who was holding her daughter in her arms, cast a worried look to Eli. “Would you like me to give you two a moment in private?”
“No need,” Hannah answered for him. “Everybody knows. I’m just the only one who cares.” Belatedly, she realized that there might be one other person in the house who cared, and lowered her voice. “Wait, where’s Mama?”
“Out on a morning call,” Eli assured her. “But why don’t we all go into the study where we won’t be disturbed?”
How can Mama be out on a call at a time like this?
Hannah followed them down the hall to a little green room filled with books and an oak table. Eli pulled out two chairs for the ladies, but Jane didn’t take hers, instead kneeling down on a nearby patch of empty carpet where she could set Gloria on her belly to wiggle and grunt.
“I do care.” Eli’s voice was gentle. “I’m sure Jacob must too. But you can’t say it was unexpected, Hannah. They’ve been unhappy for years. Just look at what happened last night.”
“That was Mr. Corbyn’s fault! If he hadn’t made such a fuss over it—”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Eli said firmly. “Papa was rude to half the people at the table: Mr. Corbyn, Jane, and especially Mama. I should have put a stop to it myself before Mr. Corbyn had to say anything.”
Hannah bit her lip. Coming from Eli, it was a damning condemnation. He’d always been the peacekeeper in the family, trying to distract their parents from their quarrels with some bit of news or a joke. She couldn’t imagine him talking back to Papa as Mr. Corbyn had done.
“I don’t want to interfere in your life if you’re sure of your choice,” her brother continued.
“I expect you have enough of that from Mama. But if the only reason you rejected Corbyn last night is because of what he said at dinner, then I hope you’ll think it over a bit longer.
It’s the sort of thing you should be sure about. ”
Hannah wasn’t prepared for this. Was she really the only person who objected to Corbyn’s behavior? Well, her and Papa, of course. And possibly Mama, who cared more for manners than for motives.