Chapter 2
TWO WEEKS LATER
Gertie stood at the kitchen table peeling potatoes for dinner and trying not to worry about the lack of word from Archie.
Surely he had received her letter by now—and his reply should have arrived—if not the man himself—seeing as how urgent the topic of it had been.
She set yet another peeled potato into the bowl with the others as the door of the cottage opened and her father walked in, followed by two men she couldn’t identify at first with the glare of the sun into the darker interior of the cottage.
As the door closed and her eyes adjusted, she sucked in a breath at the sight of Reverend Goodman and a man she didn’t recognize.
“Sit, Gertrude.” Her father pulled out the chair across from where she stood. Behind him, the Reverend and the stranger took up positions on each of his sides.
Her gut twisted as she did as directed, a clenching pit in her stomach as her knees gave out, making it more than easy to comply with his demand. “What is this about, Papa?”
“It has been brought to my attention that you are in a delicate state, and so I have done the only thing I can do as a father. With the assistance of the good Reverend, I have found you a husband.” He glared at her as though daring her to argue.
Blazes! She should have known this would happen.
Resisting the urge to stamp her foot and rail at the three men before her, she drew in a calming breath.
“I am not in need of a husband. If the good Reverend sent my letter to Archie, as he said he would, then I shall have a husband and my child a father.” She looked to her father’s left, staring at the man in question, and waited.
Since her father had stalked into the cottage and announced her pregnant state, she’d assumed the Reverend had read her letter before sending it on to Archie—bloody hell, he had sent the letter, hadn’t he? Fear lanced through her heart. What if he hadn’t sent it?
“He has not replied. You must marry Mr. Thomas Sutton for the sake of your immortal soul, that of your unborn child, and the upstanding reputation of this town.” The Reverend pressed his lips together into a thin line, judgment writ plain on his face.
Doubt assailed her. Was he lying? He was a man of God.
Would he lie to her? She supposed she had to accept that, while she was aware of his disapproval of her, he was a pious man.
“I see.” Gertie took a deep breath as her mind reeled with the news, her gaze staring at the table as she clenched her hands in her lap in an attempt to cease their trembling.
“So you agree to marry Thomas?” Her father’s tone was implacable, insistent. Sober.
Shock reverberated through her bones as though she’d struck her funny bone. How had the situation gone so awry? Had she wronged someone important in a previous life? Why else would this one consist of one punishment after another?
Gertie looked up at him then slid her gaze to his right to examine the large but quiet man who apparently would be her husband. “And why would you agree to marry a woman pregnant with another man’s child?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Perhaps you’d step outside with me?”
She looked to her father and the Reverend’s faces and found neither of them pleased by this development.
If that were the case, well, then she was curious to hear the man out.
“Of course.” As she stood and walked around the table to meet Thomas by the door, one simple question pinged about in her head.
Why? Why would he marry her? Why would he raise another man’s child?
Outside, Gertie blinked multiple times as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunshine.
The man presented his arm to her. “Please, walk with me.”
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and they strolled down the front walk and into the lane. “Are you new in town, Mr. Sutton? I don’t recall seeing you before.”
He nodded. “I am. I just moved here a few weeks ago to take over the bakery on the west side of town. I was an apprentice to a baker in London but it was time for me to strike out on my own.”
“Congratulations. I hope you are finding Rivenhall a passable change from London.” She was curious about who this man was, but also afraid to learn what kind of man would marry an unwed pregnant woman. Was he running from something—or perhaps someone—back in London?
“People have been very welcoming and it has offered its share of surprises.” He smiled at her.
Despite the situation at hand, she chuckled out loud. “Yes, I imagine you had not expected to take on a pregnant wife along with your bakery.”
“Well, no. But I was referring to the many single women who have invaded my bakery in search of a husband.” His cheeks turned red as his words hung in the air between them.
A laugh bubbled up from Gertie before she could control the inappropriate urge. “Well, that makes it even more odd that you’d agree to this charade.” She stopped in the lane and looked at him. “Why? Why would you shackle yourself with another man’s child?”
Thomas cleared his throat softly, glanced down at his feet for a moment, and then looked at her.
“First, let me apologize for my role in this confrontation. I was given the impression that you would welcome my protection under the circumstances. But, to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I could follow through with this until I walked in the cottage and saw you standing there peeling potatoes.
It suddenly felt right to offer you the protection of my name, as little as there is to offer.
” He signed softly. “And I should like to think that if it were my sister down on her luck, some man she could trust would do the same for her. I know you love this man who fathered your child, but I see a kindness in you that tells me we could get on well together. Maybe even one day find a fondness for each other, if not possibly love. And honestly, running a bakery on my own is backbreaking work. Sharing the load with someone wouldn’t go amiss.
” He shrugged and then turned, tucked her hand back in the crook of his arm and continued walking.
Silence sat heavy between them for long minutes as they walked and Gertie considered what he’d said. He’d been honest with her. He needed help. He was feeling overwhelmed by the work—and by the women chasing him down in town.
Her heart cried out for Archie, but he hadn’t come for her. For them.
So she drew a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll marry you, Thomas Sutton. I promise to be a good wife and to help with running your bakery. And perhaps one day, something more will come of this arrangement.”
“I’m glad, Gertie. I think we’ll do well together. How soon would you like to marry?” he asked as they looped around and headed back toward the cottage where her father and Reverend Goodman waited for them.
She smoothed her hand over her baby bump and smiled ruefully. “I think right away. This baby is going to be showing much sooner than either of us will be prepared to explain.”
“That suits me fine. We’ll discuss it with the Reverend when we get back to the cottage. Perhaps we’ll do it this coming Saturday if he’s agreeable to a Bishop’s License which will give you time to prepare.” Thomas continued their stroll at a sedate pace.
“I can be ready by then as well. Again, thank you Thomas. I appreciate your stepping in like this.” She ignored the pang in her heart—a small useless cry for Archie.
It seemed she would wear her green dress to marry—just not to the man she’d always imagined.
Archie carried the letter that bore the Reverend’s familiar scrawl over to the window in the shared dormitory.
It was midday, and most of the other men attending the school were at lunch.
Since Archie worked in the kitchens to help pay for his tuition, he had already eaten and so had this precious moment alone.
This was only the fifth missive he had received from Reverend Goodman, his guardian only writing once a month.
In every letter he had responded to Archie had asked for any word of Gertie, but had received none.
As he rapidly scanned the page for her name, his heart skipped a beat when he saw it.
But wait—what nonsense was this? Surely he misunderstood.
His heart pounded as he quickly returned to the top and began reading the letter.
As the words flowed into sentences and took shape, his heart cracked.
Dear Archibald,
I hope this letter finds you well. It has been a busy month here as we have had several weddings and two funerals. Your schoolmaster is getting on well in your absence with the help of two boys who are assisting him with the class, but he opines your loss and all the wonderful work you did for him.
You have asked for a word about Miss Gertrude Freed, and it is with some reservation I share the news.
Not long after you left for school, a new baker came to town to take over the shop on King’s Street.
It seems that he and Gertrude became friendly and have now married.
I know you had hopes of marrying her one day, but as I tried to caution you, she was young and capricious.
I hope this can bring the matter of your affection for her to a close, allowing you to focus on your studies moving forward.
You'll find a box of biscuits from Mrs. Armstrong with this note. I look forward to hearing more about your studies as your training progresses.
Yours sincerely,
Reverend Goodman
Archie sat at the window and stared out at the passing traffic on Westgate Road.
His chest ached where his heart had once been as he tried to absorb what he'd read.
How has it been a matter of months for her to find love with another?
She told him she would try to wait for as long as she could, and while he knew she wouldn't wait forever—couldn’t wait forever—he'd believed she could wait a year.
Or nearly so.
The door of the dormitory opened, and his bunkmate approached him. “Hello Archie I heard you got another box of shortbread from home.”
Too distraught to have any interest in sweets, he waved his hand at his bed. “They are yours to take.”
“Are you quite well, man?” his friend asked.
“No. No, I don’t believe I am well, and I may never be again. The woman I love has just married another.” He sighed raggedly as another wagon laden with barrels slowly trundled by in the street below.
“Oh my dear chap, that's tough. But there's lots of lovely ladies here in town. We'll take you down to the Pig and Oar on our next night off and help you forget that faithless Jezebel.” His friend slapped him on the back in a friendly manner.
Knowing it would be expected for him to shake this off and carry on, Archie tucked his aching heart away and rose from where he sat. “I suppose I'll have to let you try.”
And so, with his chest still aching, he pretended not to care in the hope that in due course, it would be true. He'd have to write to the Reverend Goodman at some point, but he wasn't ready to face that task just yet.
After all, he wasn’t sure how he was going to carry on without Gertie.