Page 59 of The Lady's Companion
She smiled to herself and thought of Lady Bushnell. I will devote myself to my employer and become proficient at the piano if it kills me. I intend to be a very good Wiggins, even if it is a borrowed name from an English village. If it was good enough for the king and his shillings, it will do for me.
After midnight, she heard David and Joel come up the stairs, laughing and then shushing each other outside her door until she had to cover her mouth to keep from betraying her own amusement. David’s room was next to hers and the walls were thin enough for her to hear him whistling. The ropes creaked, so she knew when he got into bed. To her additional amusement and frustration, she heard him begin to snore. The sleep of the innocent or the thoroughly experienced? she asked herself, while I toss and writhe about and contemplate what mysteries tomorrow night will uncover.
She was dressed and downstairs for breakfast before the men. Mrs. Steinman worked in the kitchen with her scullery maid, and Susan joined her, happy to finish the recipe for plum cake while the other woman prepared eggs for baking.
“You couldn’t sleep?” Mrs. Steinman asked.
Susan shook her head and peered closer at the recipe, hoping to hide what she knew was a red face.
Mrs. Steinman sat at the table, her eyes focused on distantscenes, the eggs forgotten. “I remember my wedding day. I had never laid eyes on my husband before.”
“Never?” Susan asked, stopping the dough in mid-stroke.
“It was not our custom, little one,” she replied. “And when I first saw him, it was through a thick veil.” She turned her attention to the eggs again. “I didn’t get a really good look at him until after the ceremony.” She chuckled. “And then a much better look.”
Susan brought the bowl to the table and sat down. “You must have been terrified,” she said as she continued stirring.
“Why?” Mrs. Steinman asked, surprised. “You see, my dear, I trusted that my father would arrange well for me, and he did.”
How fortunate you are, Susan thought. My father’s ideas of arrangement generally involve telling stories only he can believe, and smiling big enough to cover the worst shortcomings. She looked down at the bowl, sighed, and redoubled her efforts.
“My dear, it is plum cake, not whipping cream,” Mrs. Steinman said, her voice gentle. “Perhaps your father will come to the wedding and make amends.”
I do not think there are words enough in this entire universe to apologize for last night’s display of family love, she thought, even as she smiled and nodded. “Perhaps he will. Here, Mrs. Steinman. Is the oven ready?”
She thought that breakfast would taste like ashes and bone-meal, but she surprised herself by consuming the largest share of baked eggs and looking around for more, to the bailiff’s amusement. Perhaps it is not so surprising, she thought as she went to the sideboard for warm plum cake. I didn’t have the heart for dinner last night.
The bailiff joined her there. “I don’t know, Susan,” he began, shaking his head. “I don’t remember your eating so much before for breakfast.” He winked at Steinman. “Joel, didn’t you assure me that two can live as cheaply as one, but only half as long?”
They ate quickly, with an eye on the clock. “I suppose we will not see you after the ceremony?” Joel asked as he pushed himself away from the table.
“No. We leave immediately for Quilling,” David replied. He glanced at Susan. “We leave it to you to tell that nice widow who wants a governess that the incomparable Susan decided instead to marry a Welsh thief, poacher, veteran, and...”
“... future proprietor of Waterloo Seed Farm,” she interrupted, dabbing at her lips with the napkin. “While I do not expect us to be rich someday, we will be adequately respectable. Come on, David. Let us get married.”
The wedding was quickly performed at St. Andrews Church. She clutched the bailiff’s hand, whispered her responses in a terrified voice, and only stopped shaking when he clamped his hand around her wrist to hold it still and slide on the wedding band.
She couldn’t remember a word the priest said; she might as well have been married in Hindustani. She stood and shook, and knelt and shook, and barely recognized her signature after she signed the registry. Mrs. Steinman cried, Joel grinned, and Colonel March looked as relieved as when General Blucher arrived in the eleventh hour on Waterloo’s field. Beyond a somewhat bemused drunk in a back pew and an old lady who talked to herself, there were no other wedding guests.
Well, I did not expect more, Susan thought as she raised her cheek for Colonel March to kiss, and followed it with the warmth of Mrs. Steinman’s embrace. “May you be as happy as I was,” the woman said, then whispered. “From my mouth to God’s ears.”
Then there was only time to say good-bye to everyone, laugh at Joel waving his empty sleeve again, and catch the mail coach at its nearest location. She sat close to her husband and admired the ring. “When did you find time to get this?” she asked as the mail coach started.
He took her hand and ran his fingers over the ring. “When I went to Chipping Norton for the cattle fair.”
She gaped at him. “David, I had turned you down only days before! You were so confident?”
“I was so confident,” he replied simply.
She slept most of the way to Oxford, her hand resting on his thigh, his arm about her shoulders. After Oxford, she stayed awake for the rest of the trip, too shy to speak, but content to tuck herself close to him and watch the mile posts come and go. The bailiff didn’t seem to mind her silence. He dozed, resting his head on her shoulder and relaxing completely. When he woke, he told her his plans for the Waterloo Seed Company, and then maintained a conversation with the farmer seated on his other side. Susan listened to traded experiences of scours, joint ill, and whether to sow barley in the full moon or the new moon, and wondered what her former friends would make of such talk. I have much to learn, she thought, and it goes so far beyond what I will discover tonight. My genteel upbringing has prepared me for nothing.
“You have a quizzical look on your face,” the bailiff commented after the farmer left the coach at a crossroads and they started again.
She smiled at him. “I am thinking how ill-prepared I am for life with you.” It was so honest that she blushed.
The bailiff glanced around to see if the other passengers were sleeping, and kissed her quickly. “You only have to remember two things, Suzie,” he murmured, his lips close to hers.
“Just two?” she whispered, wanting him to kiss her again.
