The Six Month Marriage (28 page)

Madeline
woke to find Philip sitting in a chair beside her bed. As she saw the rhythmic
rise and fall of his muscular chest she realised that he was asleep. And no
wonder, she thought; he looked tired. There were dark circles beneath his eyes
and he was unshaven, something she had never known before. But his presence was
comforting, and as weakness overtook her she slipped back into sleep, made easy
now by the knowledge that he was by her side.

She woke again sometime later, feeling stronger. She was
able to make sense of her surroundings and realised that she was in her bedroom
in
York
.

The events of the last - day? week? - came flooding back
to her: Letitia’s visit, their walk through the snow, and the splintering of
the rotten foot bridge. She shivered as she remembered how she had hung
helplessly from its support, and her panic as she had finally lost her grip.
And then her memory dissolved into a confused jumble of images: the icy water
and her desperate struggle to keep afloat; and then her relief as someone had
caught hold of her, and her joy as she had realised that that someone was
Philip.

‘Well, well,’ said Philip, seeing she was awake. Leaving
the chair in which, had she but known it, he had kept a constant vigil for the
past five nights he went to sit beside her on the bed. He took her hand and
then, bending over her, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘It seems I can’t let you
out of my sight for a minute! You gave me quite a fright.’

Madeline sensed that his words were deliberately light.
She may have regained consciousness but she could tell she was far from well.
She had only a hazy memory of what had happened, but she remembered enough to
know that she had been ill following her plunge into the icy river. Seeing how
drawn his face was, and realising how worried he had been about her, she
wondered whether it was possible, as Letitia had claimed, that he was in love
with her? Or had she just imagined it? Had her fevered mind invented that part
of the conversation? Until she had heard the words from his own lips she could
not be sure.

‘I feel a little strange,’ she said, trying to echo his
lightness.

‘You will do. You’ve been running a fever, but it’s
broken now. All you need is plenty of rest. And I mean to make sure you get it,’
he said, tucking her hand back under the covers.

His touch was strong and comforting. Madeline smiled at
him and then drifted back into sleep.

Madeline’s
convalescence was slow. To begin with she was content to lie in bed, drifting
in and out of sleep, but by and by she became stronger, and at last was ready
to go downstairs.

Philip carried her down himself, setting her gently on
the elegant
chaise longue
in the sitting room. She was able to read and,
later, to enjoy receiving visitors; as many as the doctor - and Philip - would
allow. He stood watch over her, and if he saw that she was tiring he brought
the visits to an end.

Sarah, Old Ned’s wife, was Madeline’s first visitor. She
refused to sit down, despite Madeline’s entreaties, and said she’d just called
to deliver a jar of calves’ foot jelly.

‘Turnabout’s fair play,’ she chuckled, referring to the
time in the autumn when Madeline had taken her a jar of the same jelly to help
her get over a nasty cold.

Madeline thanked her, and as she did so she caught sight
of Philip’s pleased expression. He had always been glad that she had got on so
well with the tenants and labourers on the estate, and Madeline herself was
pleased, too. She was very fond of the "
Yorkshire
folk" as Jenny called them, and she was interested to hear all
about Sarah’s Christmas, and to learn that Old Ned’s rheumatism was responding
well to the new ointment he was trying.

Clarissa and Jason were the next to call. Over the
ensuing days, as Madeline gradually regained her strength and vigour, they were
frequent visitors to the house in
York
. They kept her entertained with stories of their Christmas and New
Year, never over-tiring her but lifting her spirits and making her feel how
fortunate she was to have such good friends.

Towards the end of January, when Madeline had almost
fully recovered, Clarissa and Jason paid another visit, and this time there was
an air of suppressed excitement about them.

‘You’ll never guess,’ said Clarissa, beaming at
Madeline.

Madeline looked from Clarissa to Jason, and back again.
They had become almost inseparable over the last few weeks, and seeing Clarissa’s
beaming face Madeline guessed what she was about to say. ‘You mean . . . ?’ she
began.

‘Yes,’ burst out Clarissa, proudly displaying a ring, ‘Jason
and I are to be married!’

Madeline had begun to suspect an attachment on seeing
the two of them together during their visits to her and was overjoyed that her
suspicions were correct. A few months ago, the idea that Clarissa was about to
be married would have horrified her, but now she was delighted to know that
Clarissa was going to become Jason’s wife.

She congratulated her friend with a real and genuine
warmth. It seemed strange to her now that she had been so afraid of marriage.
She had come to realise that it held joys as well as terrors, and to realise
that happy marriages existed, so that she was able to give Clarissa and Jason
her heartiest congratulations.

‘And just when I had resigned myself to being on the
shelf!’ said Clarissa.

‘Love is no respecter of age,’ remarked Philip, his eyes
fixed warmly on Madeline.

Clarissa looked from Philip to Madeline and back again,
and with a pleased smile playing around her lips she took her leave. ‘For I
have a hundred and one things to do. We mean to be married as soon as possible,’
she said as she parted from them.

‘And what about
our
marriage?’ asked Philip, when
Clarissa had left.

‘
Our
marriage?’ asked Madeline, feeling her pulse
begin to quicken.

‘I have not spoken of it to you before now,’ said
Philip, sitting down beside her and taking her hand in his. ‘You were ill, the
doctor had ordered you complete rest, and I did not want to unsettle you in any
way.’ He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Madeline. I don’t want our
marriage to end.’

Madeline caught her breath. She thought of what Letitia
had said on the bridge, that Philip loved her, and wondered if it could be
true. But Philip himself had not said anything to her of love.

‘Why is it you fear marriage?’ he asked. Adding, ‘You do
fear it, don’t you?’

She nodded.

‘Won’t you tell me why you are afraid?’

‘My parents’ marriage was not a happy one,’ she said
slowly. ‘My father treated my mother very badly. He belittled her at every opportunity,
particularly in front of other people. It was as though he wanted to show
everyone how much power he had over her. And of course he had. He was her
husband; she his wife. He made her life a torment. He contradicted her at every
turn. He pretended to want to know her opinion and then if she dared express it
he treated it with contempt. He bullied her unmercifully. He never let her go
out and did not allow her to have any friends.

‘And she warned me - over and over again she warned me -
never to marry. Marriage, she said was a trap.’ She shuddered. ‘What I saw and
heard in my childhood, together with my mother’s warning, made me determined
never to marry. Once a husband has control of a wife he descends into cruelty
and she is lost. Or so my mother said.’

‘Is that what you think would happen if our marriage
became real?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘I cannot believe it.’

‘But still you fear it,’ he said, as if sensing it was
so and wanting to help Madeline overcome the last of her fears. And he knew
exactly how to do it. ‘Has our marriage descended into cruelty over the last
few weeks?’ he asked.

She looked puzzled. ‘No. But then ours is a sham of a
marriage.’

‘No. Not any more. For the last three weeks it has been
real. You have lost track of time, Madeline. It is almost the end of January;
it is 1813 no longer, but 1814. I claimed my inheritance weeks ago. Because of
your illness the lawyers came over to the house on the appointed day, instead
of expecting us to go to their offices, and, bearing witness to the fact that I
was married, and had been so for six months, they made the
Rochdale
fortune over to me. So you see,
Madeline, for the last three weeks our marriage has been real.’

‘Real,’ she said.

‘Yes. Real.’ He took her hand. ‘Has it turned into a nightmare
because it is real?’ he asked her, looking deep into her eyes.

She shook her head as she felt a warm glow stealing over
her. ‘No, it hasn’t.’

‘And it never will. Because I love you, Madeline,’ he
said.

‘As I love you,’ she returned, feeling a great surge of
happiness. But then an unwelcome thought occurred to her. ‘Letitia . . . ’

‘I was never in love with Letitia. Ours was nothing but a
suitable match. But when I realised I loved you I told her I could never marry
her. I would have told you at the time, but I did not want to cause you
anxiety. I knew you felt safe with me because you thought our marriage was
temporary, and I did not want to take that feeling of safety away from you.’

‘So that is why she tried to kill me,’ said Madeline.

‘Yes. I should have guessed she would do something like
this. I thought at the time she seemed to take the news too calmly. I had
expected her to rant and rave. But instead she said that she knew I loved you,
and that she was not surprised I wanted to bring our - hers and my - agreement
to an end. I was amazed at her coolness and even commented on it but she said
there would be no use her making a fuss as it would not change anything and so
she would wish me well instead. I should have suspected she had something planned,
but I honestly believed that she had accepted the situation.’

‘You couldn’t have known,’ Madeline said.

‘No, you’re right, I couldn’t have known. If I had
thought about it I could have guessed that she might make mischief, but I could
never have guessed she would try to kill you. I knew she wanted to be a
countess, but I never suspected that her ambition would carry her so far.’

‘She thought that, if I was out of the way, you would
return to her,’ Madeline explained.

Philip shook his head. ‘I would never have done so. I
had realised my mistake in thinking I could every marry her. It’s strange, I
think my father knew I would. I think that’s why he put the awkward clause in
the will, stipulating that I would not inherit the
Rochdale
fortune if I married her. He wanted me to have the happiness he had
had in life, you see, and to experience a love-based marriage, and he knew that
with Letitia I could never do that.

‘And so he made it almost impossible for me to marry
her. He knew I would never give up the fortune willingly in order to marry her,
because I needed it to improve the estate, and so he reasoned that I would find
a way round the awkward clause. And I think he knew that this would be the way
I would find: that I would take a convenient young lady as a temporary wife.

‘But knowing me as he did, I think he also knew that I
would never go through with a sham of a marriage unless somewhere, deep at the
heart of me, I knew it to be real.’

Madeline nodded. ‘I knew it, too. I didn’t realise it at
the time but I could never have made those vows if I had not, somewhere deep
inside me, known you were the man I wanted to spend my life with,’ she said
nestling into his arms.

He kissed her softly on the top of her head.

‘Do you know?’ he said, ‘I think I’ve loved you from the
moment I first saw you at Lady Appleton’s ball. That night, although I didn’t
know it then, was the start of my life. I was so proud of you when we came to
the Manor. You seemed to belong there, as though you were a part of the estate.
And you seemed to belong in my arms. Despite the fact I wasn’t meant to be
touching you, I couldn’t help it,’ he said with a smile. ‘You were just so
beautiful. And then when Stuart had the audacity to suggest you should become
his wife . . . ’

Madeline looked at him in surprise.

‘Aunt Honoria told him that our marriage was a sham,’ he
said. ‘And suggested he marry you when your marriage to me was done.’

Madeline was amazed. ‘So that is why he paid so much
attention to me. I never knew.’

‘She did it on purpose, of course, to make me
acknowledge what I felt for you. And it worked.’

‘So that is why Stuart never visited us again!’ laughed
Madeline.

‘I’m afraid I sent him off with a flea in his ear.’

He held her close.

‘But I didn’t want to tell you of my feelings until the
six months had run their course,’ he went on. ‘I knew you were happy and I did
not want to do anything to spoil that. I thought if I could show you how warm
and fulfilling marriage could be then I could overcome your aversion to being
my wife.’