She Will Rejoice

To
my brother, Nate,

A friend who inspire
s me, encourages

me
, and knows what it means to love

a
t all times.

S
he Will Rejoice

“Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.”

           
                                                                                    Proverbs 31:25

CHAPTER ONE

“Mama, please,” the bride remained still as her sister twisted and pulled at her copper locks. “I cannot marry him.”

              Vivian Price rested a soft hand on her daughter’s lace-covered shoulder, “I am truly sorry, Naomi, but we have no choice. Your father has chosen Mr. Haydn as your husband.”

             
Ruth gave a final pat to Rachel’s hair, “I don’t know what you are complaining about, Naomi. I know he doesn’t have a title, but he is the oldest son, so he has inherited everything. And he is unquestionably good looking.”

             
“Money and looks aren’t everything, Ruthie,” she chided the younger girl.

             
“You seemed happy enough about it when father first suggested it.”

             
“That was before I knew,” Naomi couldn’t see her own reflection through the tears in her eyes.

             
Vivian sat beside her child, “I do not think he is a harsh man, my love.”

             
“But he is a gambler, Mama, and people say he spends much time in his cups.”

             
She closed her eyes and dipped her chin, “And that he. . . he visits. . .those houses.”

             
Vivian cleared her throat, “Ruth, please excuse us for a moment.”

             
Naomi heard her sister bustle out.

             
“My, dear, do you remember what I told you last night . . . about your wedding night?”

             
Naomi was certain the memory of that particular conversation was going to be burned in her mind for all time.

She nodded.

“Some men choose not to burden their wives with this duty any more than is necessary to produce an heir.”

Naomi was not comforted by that, “He will be disregarding his vows to do thus, Mama.”

Vivian nodded.

“
It will be terribly humiliating,” Naomi insisted.

Her mother tu
rned away, “It is not discussed.”

Vivian
paced to the window and looked out over the snowy ground. “It is little comfort, I know, but your humiliation is private, at least.”

Naomi rose, “I will not do this. I cannot marry a man, knowing he will be unfaithful.”

Vivian looked up at her daughter’s face, “People will talk.”

“I
haven’t a care about that,” Naomi’s argument came swiftly.

“Mr.
Haydn will spread the word that you were afraid of being discovered. . .that you had been compromised by another man.”

Naomi’s throat closed up.

Her mother turned to face her, “You will never marry, and your father may send you away from us.”

She shook her head. Surely her grandparents would not turn her out, “I think I would rather. . .”

“Your sister will suffer the same fate,” Vivian continued, “as no man of good breeding will marry the sister of a wanton woman.”

That was all the
persuasion Naomi needed. She drew a deep breath, dabbed at her tears, and pulled the veil down over her face. Her mother moved to the door.

“I am truly sorry, Naomi dear.”

The bride nodded and opened the door.

Her father stood, stern-faced
, waiting for them, “We do not want to keep the guests waiting.”

Naomi did not respond except to take her father’s arm and allow him to lead her toward her bleak future.

CHAPTER TWO

“You look quite lovely, Naomi,” her new husband
leaned toward her as they sat at the banquet table.

She started slightly at the man’s use of her given name.
Her brother, Asa, did so on a regular basis, of course, but no other man had since her coming out. Not even her father uttered her Christian name.

He noticed and smirked, “Would you prefer I call you Mrs. Haydn?”

She looked him in the eye, “I was just surprised, Mr. Haydn.”

His green eyes did not waver from her blue ones, “I prefer you use my first name.”

              She struggled for a moment to remember what that was.

             
He angled his head as if challenging her.

             
She swallowed, “In public?”

             
The man shrugged as if it mattered little, “Very well, Mrs. Haydn. I am content to wait until we are alone.”

             
His words sent a chill down her back, but he was no longer watching her, so he did not see her reaction to his statement.

             
Mr. Haydn now had his back to his wife and was speaking to the couple on his left, so Naomi turned to speak to her mother.

             
“Thank you for the gardenias, mother. However did you manage them in November?”

             
Her mother’s reply accompanied a tight smile, “Mr. Haydn has a greenhouse. His mother provided them.”

             
Naomi had not yet been introduced to her husband’s mother as the older Mrs. Haydn was not well enough to attend the wedding and had been in Bath for the month prior to the ceremony.

             
“That was kind of her,” Naomi hoped the older woman was not a difficult person. If rumors of her deceased husband could be trusted, she would have reason to be so.

             
“Of course,” Mr. Price interrupted the conversation in a patronizing manner so common to him. “The Haydns are well-known for their generosity.”

             
Vivian pressed her lips together in annoyance, but she soon forced a smile, “Perhaps Mr. Haydn has fresh cut flowers all seasons.”

             
Naomi hardly though fresh cut flowers were payment enough for sacrificing her life to a man such as Finneas Haydn.

A
new idea formed. It was well known her new husband spent much of his time in town. Perhaps she would be allowed to remain on the family’s estate, and she would see little of him. She had always preferred the country to the confines and social restrictions of London anyway.

             
Nothing could take away the humiliation of being married to a man who had no intention of remaining true to his vows, but frequent separation would make the circumstances more tolerable.

             
Mr. Haydn touched her elbow, “My dear, you have eaten nothing.”

             
She returned her attention to the man beside her.

             
“We will be travelling for several hours this afternoon, and there is little guarantee we will find adequate meals along the way.”

             
Naomi was confused. She had not bothered questioning her intended prior to the ceremony, but she had assumed they would either travel to London or go directly to Selby. They were only two hours from town and approximately five miles from his family home.             

             
He must have seen the uncertainty in her face.

             
“We are to take a wedding trip, Mrs. Haydn,” he informed her with a broad smile. “I believe it is customary.”

             
Naomi tried not to find his enthusiasm attractive, but it was. Very.

“
I beg your pardon, sir. It had not occurred to me. Where will we be going?”

             
“The Isle of Wight. My uncle owns a small cottage there and has offered to let us make use of it.”

             
A dread began to build in her chest. How could she possibly manage an extended holiday with a man such as her husband? She had no idea what his interests were, and she doubted he would enjoy discussing the things that appealed to her. She had heard the Isle of Wight was a beautiful place, and she had long desired to go there, but there were not likely sites enough to keep the new couple occupied for long.

             
Perhaps he intended a short wedding trip.

             
She felt a measure of relief that he may only be planning a brief journey, “How long will we be away?”

             
“I have set aside the next month.”

             
Her stomach dropped.

             
“This is not agreeable to you?” a frown creased his brow.

             
She swallowed, “It is just. . .I had not anticipated it.”

             
His eyes narrowed slightly, “Is there some reason you need to return home sooner?”

             
Naomi shook her head.

             
“I had thought,” he was clearly annoyed, but he kept his voice so low that she had to lean in slightly to make out the words, “a little time away from our families would give us the opportunity to become acquainted.”

             
Naomi looked down at her plate of fruit and pastries. She could not look into Mr. Haydn’s face right now. His irritation was unexpected, but his explanation even more so. If he did not intend to have a real marriage with her, why would he bother becoming more acquainted with her?

             
“I must beg your pardon again, sir,” she finally spoke again. “It is as you say. We do not know each other.”

             
His expression softened slightly.

             
“I do not know what to expect,” she continued. “Perhaps a little time to better know each other is a very good idea, after all.”

             
Now he smiled, “Excellent.”

             
Mr. Haydn turned again from her when a man approached their table and addressed him. They did not have another moment to speak to each other until they were leaving.

             
“Are you comfortable?” Mr. Haydn addressed his wife when they were finally seated in the carriage.

             
The leather seats were well padded and deep. There was even a small footrest for her.

             
“I am quite comfortable,” she smiled across at him. “I could almost sleep.”

             
A soft rumble emanated from his chest, “Feel free to do so,” he held up a book. “I can otherwise occupy myself.”

             
She felt a blush climbing her cheeks at the thought of sleeping while in the presence of a man. It grew deeper at the idea that he might even watch her as she slumbered.

             
She reached into her reticule, “I do not know that I could actually relax enough to drift off, Mr. Haydn, but I, too, have brought a book.”

             
He raised an eyebrow at her, and Naomi knew she had displeased him once again. Perhaps he did not care for the idea of her reading while she was in the carriage with him. Her father refused to allow it, saying it was rude. Mr. Haydn had suggested it first, though, so she had assumed it would not bother him.

             
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, “You were going to use my Christian name while in private.”

             
Her eyes widened at the intimate touch, “I had not . . .”

             
He moved to her side of the carriage though he did not sit so close as to be touching her, “Is it difficult to pronounce?”

             
Naomi smiled slightly at his teasing.

             
“Because you could call me Finn, if you find the full use is overwhelming.”

             
“Finn?” the word came out in a whisper.

             
He nodded, “It is what my family calls me.”

             
She struggled to remember all the members of his family.

             
“Except my mother when she is angry, of course.”

             
Naomi bit her lip. She was well aware of how mothers lengthened their children’s names when irritated.

             
“Then it is Finneas James Haydn. That name is usually followed by a list of ways I have disappointed her.”

             
She blinked at the sudden bitterness she heard in the man’s voice.

             
He sighed and leaned back against the cushions, “I think I will sleep, Mrs. Haydn. You may keep watch.”

             
Naomi was awake for only moments after she saw her husband’s eyes close. She woke to the sensation of the carriage coming to a halt.

             
“I beg your pardon, Naomi,” his voice was very near her face. “We must change horses.”

             
She blinked to clear her fuzzy vision, “Horses?”

             
“Yes, so they don’t tire.”

             
She nodded to indicate she understood. That was when she realized her head was resting against Mr. Haydn’s – Finn’s – chest. She sat upright quickly and nearly lost her seat in the process.

             
“Whoa,” he reached for Naomi to steady her. “Easy.”

             
A surge of irritation bubbled up in her chest, “Please do not speak to me as though I were your horse, Mr. Haydn.”

             
His eyebrows shot to his hairline.

             
She was preparing to apologize yet again when he began to laugh. It was not a chuckle like before but a full laugh.

             
Naomi was torn between relief that she had not angered him and more irritation that he was now laughing at her.

             
She scooted further away from him and attempted to right her bonnet and hair.

             
“I assure you, Mrs. Haydn,” he pursued her across the bench, “I feel very differently about you than I do about my horse.”

             
She wondered if she could move gracefully to the other side of the carriage, “I am relieved to hear that, sir.”

             
“Finn,” he reminded her, not giving an inch.

             
“Finn.”

             
He smiled just before rising abruptly and exiting the carriage, “Would you care to refresh yourself before we continue on our journey?”

             
She placed her hand in his and stepped out, “Thank you. I believe I would.”

             
He brought her into the traveler’s inn and led her to a room. She took care of her needs quickly and opened the door.

             
He was standing outside, “Would you care for something to eat? It seems they have passable bread here, though I believe we should forego the meat that accompanies it.”

             
She nodded and he led her to a table.

             
Naomi found she could eat little, but he seemed satisfied with the few bites she took.

             
He glanced out the window, “I believe the carriage and horses are ready. Is there anything more you need?”

             
She shook her head, “Thank you, no. I feel quite ready to continue.”

             
Mr. Haydn was most solicitous of Naomi as she settled back in for the ride.

             
“Did you sleep at all?” she asked once the carriage was in motion.

             
He nodded, “I did, indeed. I am a light sleeper, however, so as soon as we entered the village, the voices outside woke me.”

             
She made an attempt at discovering whether he woke to her resting on his chest or if he situated her there once he was awake, “How long were we. . .?”

             
She found she could not finish the question.

             
He looked at her, clearly waiting for her to finish her thought.

             
“How far have we come?” she managed to change direction.

             
“I believe it is about twenty-five miles. Perhaps thirty.”

             
She glanced out the window. She had never been this far from home before.