Chapter 10 A Rehearsal And A Kiss #2
Georgie was shocked at how small Oakfordham Cottage was.
When it had been her home, and especially when she lived there alone, it had seemed perfectly adequate.
Two small parlours downstairs and a good sized kitchen, and a pair of bedrooms tucked under the eaves upstairs — what more could anyone need?
Henry’s exuberant presence had seemed to fill every corner, but after he had gone, she felt like a lonely pea rattling round in a large jar.
Now she saw how small it truly was. Staineybank had accustomed her to vast saloons, high ceilings and many staircases.
And the cottage was shabby, she noticed, the paint starting to peel on the sunny side of the house, the rugs worn and the windows made with poor quality glass.
But Betsy had been in to clean and polish, there were vases of dried flowers everywhere and all her friends had gathered to welcome her home.
Mr Childs, the rector, came with his sister, Mrs Burnley, as well as the widow from next door and her lodger, Mr Clark, and several friends from church.
They all greeted her with smiles and hugs.
There was just a brief moment of awkwardness as she introduced Jamie — ‘Mr Hammond… my future husband…’ — before there were cries of delight, and another round of hugs.
Jamie seemed rather bemused by it all, adjusting his spectacles frequently, and not saying much.
Before too long, he made his escape to his friends’ house, where he was to stay, and most of Georgie’s well-wishers drifted away, too, leaving her with just her neighbours and Betsy, who seemed inclined to linger.
Georgie had not the energy to resist them, so they settled down in the back parlour and Betsy made tea and cut a cake that someone had left, while the others plied Georgie with questions about her romance with Jamie.
She was glad they had worked out the details beforehand, for it would have been awkward to scrabble round for a believable story on the spur of the moment.
Now the words tripped easily from her tongue…
working side by side for some weeks… getting to know each other better…
an unexpected declaration last night… her own reciprocation.
The lies came effortlessly, and although she felt some guilt, the truth would have been too shameful to reveal.
The sudden rush to marry was harder to explain, but happily they were too pleased to discover that they would be able to attend and Mr Childs to officiate that they failed to ask any difficult questions.
“We always hoped you would find someone,” Miss Childs said, wiping away a tear.
“Poor dear Mr Hastings was taken from the world far too soon, and he would not have wanted you to be alone forever, I am sure. And now you will have a dear little baby of your own at last. By Christmas next year, you will be a happy mother, I am certain.”
Or a little before that, Georgie thought. By the end of summer, and it would have to be passed off as an early arrival. Still, that was a problem for another day.
By the time her visitors had all left, the light was fading and she had barely time to change and walk next door to Mrs Burnley’s house, where she was invited for dinner.
Jamie arrived a little late, having got lost on the walk from his friends’ house, but no one minded, since he brought a bottle of claret with him, and the evening passed off in a haze of pleasant reminiscences.
Jamie walked her the ten yards to her front door. “Do you want me to check the fires for you?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I am used to closing down the house for the night. But thank you for offering.”
“I am going to try to get our licence tomorrow, so we might be able to marry the day after that… if that is not too soon for you?”
“The sooner the better,” she said. “Mr Childs will marry us whenever we wish it. He is quite excited at the prospect.”
“I am glad you will have your friends with you,” he said. “I suppose you will not return to Oxford very often once your cottage is let.”
“Not at all, I imagine,” she said. “I shall spend tomorrow packing all my remaining worldly possessions, everything that will not stay with the house, and after that I shall have no reason to come back here.”
“There is no cause to rush back to Staineybank, so we can stay here as long as you need to settle your affairs. Will you have time tomorrow to see the attorney? I should like to talk to him before we marry, just in case there are any unexpected clauses in the settlement from your first marriage.”
“Unexpected clauses?”
“The house and your fifty pounds a year. If that came from your husband’s side of the family—”
“It did not. My uncle gave me the house, which is in my name, and the fifty pounds is from my mother. Henry had to sign to say that he would not touch any of it, and the attorney keeps the title deeds. I do not foresee any difficulty.”
“Your uncle was a sensible man,” Jamie said. “Nevertheless, I shall be glad to know the exact terms, and to sign whatever is necessary to ensure that what is yours remains so after our marriage. Goodnight, Georgie.”
“Goodnight, Jamie.”
He turned away without a kiss this time, and she was surprised how sharply she felt the disappointment. She was not in love with him, nor he with her, but a kiss would be a small sign of husbandly affection, and would be welcome.
She went inside, locked and bolted the door, banked the fires and went to bed thoughtful, wondering just what sort of husband Jamie would be. Even though she told herself she would have the answer in two or three days, still she lay awake for half the night pondering the question.
***
Jamie made his way slowly back to Holywell Street, where his friends lived.
Dr Louis Brannon was an academic and provost of his college, and his wife Helen busied herself with charitable works.
Their other guest, Dr Joe Ingleton, was a clergyman who had been tutor to Richard Merrington for many years.
Having an ample independent income and being well able to afford a curate for his parish, he had devoted increasing amounts of his time to his great passion, which involved drawing up family trees for all the great families of England, and tracing the multitude of connections between them.
This work had proved invaluable to Jamie and his father as they attempted to interpret the myriad references in the Duke of Brinshire’s diaries, many such references being no more than initial letters or cryptic pseudonyms, which even the duke himself could not explain after so many years.
Joe had brought several family trees with him, and he and Jamie had already spent some time poring over them, until Jamie’s head was spinning.
He had been glad to leave the family trees behind and join Georgie for dinner.
The Brannons had both been out all day, and now, having dined well with friends, they were agog for the details of Jamie’s sudden betrothal.
He stumbled through his explanation, feeling despicable for lying to his good friends, even though he knew it had to be done.
But when the Brannons had gone to bed, and Jamie enjoyed a final brandy with Joe, he had the feeling from Joe’s knowing smile that he understood a great deal that had not been said explicitly.
But all he said was, “Marriage will suit you, Jamie. It will do you good.”
“I think so, too. I certainly hope so!”
“Your Mrs Hastings sounds as if she has had a hard life, and she is too young to be left a widow. Is she pretty?”
“Very.”
Joe chuckled. “Said without hesitation. Excellent! But you are not in love with her. No, no! I do not mean to pry. It is your own affair, the business of choosing a wife, and practical considerations must come into it, too. So tell me how your father is getting on with investigating the Wyatts.”
Relieved at the change of subject, Jamie refilled their glasses and settled down to a long, meandering chat.