Chapter Fifteen
You doe well Sir to take your pleasure of me, (I may turne tables with you ere long.)
Benjamin intercepted his brother in the street, at the corner.
“What are you doing out here?” Austin asked. “Hasn’t my mother come?”
“She has,” Benjamin answered. “They think I’ve gone to purchase cheroots for us. For our after-dinner smoke.”
“Since when do we smoke? Have you taken it up? Maman always said she hated the smell.”
“Yes, well, I couldn’t think of another excuse on the spur of the moment. When we go back we will just say we decided against it.”
“You idiot. Why have you waylaid me, then? I assume you had a reason.”
“Two of them,” muttered Benjamin. “And there isn’t time to play Twenty Questions or to explain everything properly.”
“Who asked you to explain anything?” Austin growled, irked by his older brother’s high-handedness.
Benjamin held up his palms. “I apologize. I am under some pressures.”
“Married life disagreeing with you, then?”
“As it happens, I find I have no objections to the bride. But there remain two problems which I…would appreciate your help with.”
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Austin grinned cheerfully at this reversal of roles. “Is that so? Well, I live to please.”
“Mm.” Though Benjamin did not enjoy this turning of the tables in equal measure, he went on. “Problem the first: thinking it would make things more palatable, I told my parents that Maria and I fell in love suddenly. Beforehand. So that being forced to marry was no great cause for concern.”
“It must have been very, very sudden,” scoffed Austin. But seeing his brother’s chagrin, he relented. “But, not a bad idea on the whole.”
“Not a bad idea at a distance,” returned Benjamin. “But you know Maman—she will not be satisfied with being told we love each other; she must see evidence with her own eyes.”
Austin’s laugh was almost a bark. “No! You’re right. Which means that, for as long as Maman is here, you and Mrs. Ellsworth must fawn and slaver over each other, I suppose?”
His answer was a sour look.
“Very well, brother. I will cooperate with you in the deception. If forced to witness any tasteless displays of intimacy, I will refrain from both comments and grimaces. That’s your first problem solved. What’s the second?”
“So.” Benjamin released a slow breath. “The second. It happens that…before I did meet Maria—which means before we were married, obviously—you remember I attended an assembly or two in the autumn. There was a girl there—a Miss Verity Allen, whom I—thought I might consider marrying. Eventually.”
“Now see here, Ben,” Austin interrupted. “If you’re about to tell me you’ve made some wretched mistake, and you intend to leave your wife to run after this other girl, I tell you straightaway I’ll have nothing to do with it.”
“Wh-What?” sputtered his brother.
“You heard me.”
“I ought to knock you down for that!”
“I ought to knock you down for it!” countered Austin. “Granted, I’ve only met Maria the one time at your wedding and wedding breakfast, but it’s plain she’s a sweet girl and a gentlewoman to boot, so as you’ve made your bed, you’d better lie down on it and like it!”
Then Benjamin nearly did knock his brother down. He seized him by his black-tufted sleeves and shook him, hard. “Who said anything about leaving her, you blasted—you confounded—rogue!”
No younger brother in Christendom would stand for such treatment, naturally, and as soon as Austin could get his hands out of his pockets he gave Benjamin repayment in kind, jerking one arm up to throw about his neck and trying to punch him with the other.
The two grappled in wintry Pembroke Street, panting and muttering curses, while passersby ignored them, enured to the carryings-on of young Oxonians.
“What is this?” came a screech, accompanied by slaps to both their backs and the backs of their heads. “Imbéciles! Têtes de mules! Arrêtez ca! Stop! Stop it at once!”
Schooled by years of submission to that particular voice, Benjamin and Austin did at once cease their unseemly wrestling, and their mother shoved them apart, eyes flashing.
“I demand an explanation for this! You are no longer ten years old!”
Benjamin shot Austin a warning look, and though Austin was angry, he knew the code of honor.
“Ben told me he was buying cheroots,” he lied, straightening his academic gown, “and I told him smoking was a filthy practice.”
“Ah-ha!” cried their mother. “And so it is, Benjamin! I came down to catch you, to see if I could persuade you against it, without doing so in front of Maria. She says nothing to prevent you, but I know she will not like it. Not to mention, it is a waste of money.”
“Very well,” her older son growled. “I will not smoke.”
“Then come,” she said, appeased. “That Rumble person has begun to carry up the dishes for dinner.”
Turning, Mrs. Ellsworth marched away, her sons lingering long enough for Benjamin to growl, “I repeat: I have no plans to leave Maria. I only meant to say both she and Maman know of the existence of my previous…tendre. Not only know of her, but are acquainted with her, confound it, and it is complicating matters.”
“You might have begun with that, you oaf,” Austin muttered back, “instead of leading me to think you would dishonor your wife.” Hearing Ben’s exasperated breath gave him a measure of satisfaction, however, and he added, “But, come. Tell me what you want me to do about any or all of it.”
“I hardly know myself,” sighed his brother, gesturing for Austin to precede him into the house. “But I think it wise to make a clean breast where I can. Secrets and lies too easily grow unmanageable.”
Austin followed his brother through the dark entry, glad he did not have to make his way without a guide, lest he bang his head on some unseen sconce.
Why didn’t they get some light in here? Before they were halfway up the stairs, two women hurried from the parlor, and Ben threw back carelessly, “Mrs. Chop, Miss Pork, here is my brother Mr. Austin Ellsworth.”
Chop and Pork? Austin would have thought it a joke, but the two ladies curtseyed to him, and he was quick to still his features and nod his head.
At the top of the second set of stairs Maria Ellsworth awaited them, standing, thank heaven, in sufficient candlelight that they need not bumble around.
Austin could see her hands clasped tightly before her, and he suspected she might have been wringing them a minute earlier because she appeared flushed and nervous.
She was as pretty as he remembered, and Austin wondered briefly what Ben’s Miss Allen looked like.
No—not Ben’s Miss Allen. There must be no Miss Allen for Ben. Though an attachment of a couple months struck Austin as serious indeed, and he scrutinized his brother with suspicion. Could a man attached to another do the honorable thing by his wife, whether he loved her or no? Could he do his duty?
Only look at Ben now, so stiff and dutiful as he said, “You remember my brother Austin.”
“Of course.” She smiled at him. “Welcome.”
He gave a half bow. “Mrs. Ben.”
“Yes,” put in his mother, “that is a nice name for her. It is far too long to say Mrs. Benjamin Ellsworth Mrs. Benjamin Ellsworth all the time. Maria has said I may call her Maria.”
“But I like ‘Mrs. Ben,’ too,” said Maria.
“It’s a settled thing, then,” he rejoined. “And what do you call Ben here? ‘Ben’ or ‘Mr. Ellsworth’? I don’t suppose you could call me Austin.”
Already Maria liked her frank new brother-in-law, with his bright reddish hair and easy manner.
He was, to her mind, not nearly so handsome as her husband, and therefore he daunted her less.
“I call him Benjamin,” she answered, “so I will call you Austin. Among family, at least. When others are present I may revert to ‘Mr. Ellsworth,’ if you don’t mind. ”
Having never hosted guests before, nor been important enough to lead anyone to the dining parlor, Maria stood like a post until her mother-in-law said, “Why don’t you and Benjamin lead us to dinner, my love? You and I are both married women, but you are the bride, so I will go lower.”
At this hint, Maria peeped, “Oh, yes!” and Benjamin sprang forward to offer his arm, and the awkwardness was got over.
Maria later thought that, if they might have guests join them every day and night, she and Benjamin wouldn’t fight at all.
With other people there were plenty of other things to talk about.
Mrs. Ellsworth delighted in telling stories of her sons’ youth in Winchester and even shared some from her own life in France when Maria prodded her.
“Were you really an actress on the stage, madam?”
“Not for very long, but yes.”
“Is that how you met Mr. Charles Ellsworth? Did he see you in a play?”
“Hmm. No. Not in a play. Afterward. I met him when I was a maidservant and he a young man making his Grand Tour. It is a long story, and one my sons have heard before—”
“But only a few hundred times,” Austin interjected.
“—Therefore I will tell you another time. But for tonight we must hear more about you and your family. From what little you have already told me, I am anxious to know more. How I hope to meet them!”
Maria did not think the Barstows did anything nearly as wondrous as acting on the stage, and they certainly had no wealthy cousins like the Ellsworths did, but her listeners were flatteringly attentive, asking plenty of questions (though delicately showing little curiosity about the Barstows’ relation to the Deres, which, all things considered, Maria was equally delicate in referring to, given how her husband felt about it).
After dinner Austin produced a pack of cards, claiming Maria for his whist partner, and the foursome passed a pleasant evening.
Pleasant, at least, until Maria had served the tea and saw Mrs. Ellsworth pat back a yawn, the mantel clock chiming companionably Then the realization dawned—how could it have escaped her?
—bedtime drew near. Her first—that is, their first—
Her teacup rattled as she replaced it in its saucer.
Whether the same thought had struck her husband she couldn’t say, but certainly when it was his turn to shuffle the deck, he sent cards shooting across the table, earning his brother’s mockery.
Moreover, once the fact was noticed, it could not be unnoticed, and Maria could have sworn the hands of the clock sped up.
For it seemed an eyeblink later that Rundell came for the tray, and Austin rose to take his leave.
A second eyeblink, and they were bidding Mrs. Ellsworth good-night in the third-floor passage.
Benjamin followed his wife into their now-shared chamber and shut the door behind them.
“I was thinking,” he began, only to have Maria wheel around, pantomiming for him to lower his voice.
“You remember,” she half mouthed, creeping closer, “how well sound carries.”
If he hadn’t remembered, he did now, his awareness doubly heightened by her sudden nearness, not six inches from him, her rosy face earnest. Austin was right.
She was pretty. No—more than pretty. Her brown eyes glowed with warmth, and the peachy bloom of her complexion made him wonder what it would feel like to draw a fingertip along the curve of that cheek.
“I remember,” he mumbled inadequately.
“What were you going to say?” she whispered.
“That—er—” Great guns, what had he been going to say? His mind was blank.
“Because I was thinking it makes no sense for you to sleep on the sofa,” she continued, so low that he leaned still closer. “Because you’re too long for it.”
Only when he flushed did it occur to Maria how her words might be construed, and she gasped.
“Oh! I didn’t mean—that we—that you and I would share—anything.
I meant I had better take the sofa. By myself.
Rather than you, who would have the bed.
Because I am—shorter. And I will be perfectly comfortable, I assure you. ”
“Oh. Right. I see. But I think I had better take it, however. It would be…ungallant of me to consign you—”
“Who would know but me, sir?” she pointed out. “And if you refuse me, I would not be able to sleep, to think of you, having to fold yourself in half to fit! Please—let us not quarrel about this.”
There was no doubting her sincerity, so Benjamin relented, holding up his hands in surrender.
Having won her point, her gaze faltered.
“And I-I-I stowed blankets and such in the wardrobe,” she went on.
Blankets and an extra chamber pot furtively requested from Rundell.
Maria shut her eyes briefly. How did happily married couples manage?
She could not possibly, possibly undress with him there, much less make water!
Even had Lord Dere purchased them a screen she did not think she could do it.
As if he guessed her thoughts (or thought the same himself), he gave her arm a tap to make her look up again. “Would you like a few minutes to yourself? Unless you…need assistance?”
“Thank you. No. And, yes, a few minutes would be lovely.”
He let himself out quietly, and, after snatching the bedding from the wardrobe and making up the sofa, Maria sped through her nighttime routine as never before.
She was safely tucked up on the sofa, hair braided and capped, and the coverlet pulled up to her chin before she heard the door handle turn and her husband enter.
“I thought it better to leave the light burning,” she whispered, “that you need not fumble in the darkness, but you may put it out, if you prefer.”
He made no reply and, to her dismay, after kicking off his shoes, began to shrug himself from his coat, not even asking her to turn her head.
Should she turn her head? Roll onto her side and face the sofa back?
Was he expecting her to do so without being told?
She had never seen any grown man undress himself.
Screwing her eyelids shut, through the crack she saw him untying his neckcloth and laying it across the chest of drawers. Then he fingered his waistcoat buttons.
“Are you certain you’ll be warm enough?” he asked quietly, approaching where she lay and forcing her to screw her eyelids even more tightly shut (or, rather, to close them altogether against the sight of his bare neck rising from the opening of his shirt).
“I’m very warm,” she replied, which was true enough.
“Thank you. Good night.” With that excuse, she rolled toward the back of the sofa and pressed her nose into the upholstery to hide her blushes.
Then she could no longer watch him, though she could not stop her ears, nor her imagination.
Pantaloon-trousers, stockings, smalls. He would pull on his nightshirt and cap, if he wore a cap.
To her great relief he did not make use of the chamber pot in the other cupboard, which meant he must have braved the cold to use the privy, but he washed his face, and she pictured him cleaning his teeth.
Then he blew out the light and climbed into bed.
Just for a fortnight, both Maria and Benjamin promised themselves. Two weeks.