Page 5 of The Banished Bride
The arrangement had suited Aurora perfectly, for not only was she poor, but a bit bored as well. After all, she had always possessed a keen intelligence, a practical mind and a skill for organization. Now she had a chance to exercise all three, as wellas satisfying her sense of compassion. It didn’t hurt that she knew first hand what it was to suffer a gross injustice at the hands of the opposite sex. Such degree of empathy no doubt contributed to her rapport with those who sought her help, no matter what their station in life?—
Another bout of coughing interrupted Aurora’s musings. Struggling to suppress the nagging tickle that had crept back to her throat, Miss Robertson went on in a slightly raspy voice. “Yes, even without taking into account Her Grace’s recent remuneration, we have turned a bit of a profit for the first time in ages.”
“Well, there was that little matter of Mrs. Wilkes wondering how on earth the profits from her husband’s tavern seemed to be draining away as quickly as tankards of ale on a Saturday night.” Aurora chewed on the end of her pen. “She was most grateful to learn about the mistress tucked away in High Wycombe. And then there was Mrs. Nevins, the dressmaker from Abingdon whose supplier was charging double the true cost of Chinese silk. We saw a handsome portion of what she saved, as I recall.”
“We did.” Miss Robertson paused to blow her nose. “And a good thing it was, because of late we have also had more than the usual number of requests for help from women like Mary, who cannot afford to pay even a modest fee.”
“You surely would not have me turn them away.”
“Of course not,” she sniffed. In an undertone she added, “Not that it would matter a whit if I did.”
That brought a faint smile to Aurora’s lips. “Am I that stubborn?”
“Let us say that most of the time you are quite sure what it is you want.”
A duet of laughter, its harmony tuned by years of companionship, echoed through the cozy room. As the last notes died away, Aurora set aside her jottings and cupped her chin inher hand. “Well, I am quite sure I want to help Mary. She is by far the worst off of our clients. Indeed, I even fear for her life if we don’t act soon.” Her fingers began to twist at one of the coppery curls that had escaped from the simple arrangement coiled at the nape of her neck. “I had hoped to pay off a number of back bills with our current windfall, but I suppose the butcher and the candlemaker can be convinced to wait a bit longer. The trip to Scotland cannot be put off, Robbie.”
The other woman drummed her fingers on the open ledger. “We should be able to manage without having to resort to cold porridge and shoe leather.” Sneaking a peak at her former charge, she added in a low voice, “And on the first of the month, we should be receiving the quarterly payment from Wickford. That will help tide us over.”
As expected, the mere mention of the place brought a fiery light to Aurora’s emerald eyes. “I would prefer it if we didn’t have to touch a farthing of that dratted man’s money.”
“Why?” countered Miss Robertson. “I think you deserve every bit of it for the monstrous wrong you have suffered.” She drew in a deep breath. “At least he displayed a shred of decency in providing a modest stipend for you to live on, something neither your father nor his can be accused of possessing.”
That was perhaps true, thought Aurora, though the admission was a grudging one. The dratted man—she refused to think of him as her husband—had sent word that as of her sixteenth birthday, the time designated for her removal to his estate, a small quarterly stipend would be forwarded to the village post nearest Rexford. And that, he had made quite clear, was to be the full extent of his attentions, both monetary and physical.
Till death do them part.
Well, that suited her just fine. She didn’t want his money. And she most certainly didn’t want his?—
“It was a stroke of luck that I found that letter crumpled up in your father’s study,” continued the former governess after a wheeze. “Else we should never have known of the arrangement. The fact that he bothered to send it before he left with his regiment, however curt and unflattering the words, shows that of all the gentlemen involved in that shameful affair, he is perhaps the least reprehensible.”
“That is hardly saying much.” Aurora’s lips had curled in contempt, but the flames of her anger quickly died down, replaced by a spark of wry humor. “Though to be fair, I suppose I have to admit he has shown a shred of decency by staying half a world away from me. Just as I suppose I should be amused that after all these years, the money still arrives like clockwork. I can only assume that no one has ever bothered to inform him that I never showed up at his godforsaken estate.”
Another thought seemed to come to mind, one that lightened her expression even more. “Or perhaps he’s had the decency to stick his spoon in the wall.”
Miss Robertson tried to look stern but the effect was ruined by yet another violent sneeze. “It is quite wrong to wish for anyone’s demise.”
“You’re right—wishing rarely works. Maybe I could hire someone to do the job. In India there are certain sects?—”
The other lady waggled a warning finger.
“Just jesting.”
Far from eliciting any chuckle from her former governess, Aurora’s teasing words caused the older lady’s hands to clasp together in her lap and a pained grimace to crease her brow. “I shall always regret that I was not able to protect you from such a horrible fate. But your cursed father gave me no warning. I was just as surprised as you when he demanded I dress you in your mother’s old wedding gown and have you ready to depart for the church in ten minutes.” There was a protracted sniffling, andnot merely on account of the incipient cold. “Now here you are, a beautiful young lady robbed of the chance to fall in love and marry the man of your dreams.”
“Oh come now, Robbie. There is no need for weepy sobs.” Aurora’s mouth hovered somewhere between a scowl and a smile. “Honestly, I think you must give over reading those books of Mrs. Radcliffe—it appears all that melodrama and nonsensical notions of romance are beginning to addle your usually unimpeachable reason.” She let out a harried sigh. ”You may be quite sure that even if I were free to do so, I would not have the slightest inclination to contemplate marriage.”
“But you haven’t had the chance to get to know a proper gentleman.”
“And why would I wish to do that? Gentlemen do not seem to have much to recommend them. Only look at the one I am legshackled to! Lord, it was a true godsend that you inherited Rose Cottage and the means to allow us to escape from my father’s clutches. Otherwise I should merely have been exchanging one drunken lout for another.” She shook her head vehemently. “Mark my words—I shall never, ever, seek another husband.” Any hint of smile had long since faded. “Not that I sought the one I have now.”
The sigh that filled the little room came from Miss Robertson’s lips this time. “A shame he was not more worthy of regard, for the man was a most a handsome devil, tall, with those broad shoulders and thatch of dark hair.” Then a most ungoverness titter escaped her lips. “Even if those long legs were a trifle unsteady.”
“Unsteady? Why the man was by all accounts completely jug-bitten.”
“Don’t use cant, my dear. It isn’t ladylike.” Miss Robertson’s voice quickly recovered its schoolroom decorum. Still, for all itsproper tone she couldn’t help but sneak in another question. “Do you not remember him at all?”
“I could barely see a dam—dratted thing through all that gauze of my veil. Nor, if you will remember, was I tall enough to regard much more than the gentleman’s waistcoat. Which was of an unobjectionable material, unlike my legal spouse.”
