Page 4 of A Marriage of Convenience with a Rake
“She heard about it from the witch in the woods,” Rebecca said, her voice a shrill squeak.
Eleanor chuckled but the two older children gazed up at her in fear.
“A witch?” Johnny asked. “Really?”
“Um...” Eleanor tensed. She hadn’t really intended the children to believe her story—witchcraft was an uneasy topic, and she didn’t want them to be too convinced of the existence of a witch living nearby. She swallowed uncomfortably, trying to think of a way to both refute the statement and keep on telling the story, but she was saved from the awkwardness by her mother coming down the path from the house.
“Eleanor! Children! It’s time for tea. Go inside, children! Look at your hands! They’re filthy!” Mama chided gently. “You have to go and wash straight away.”
“I’ll take them, Mama,” Eleanor assured her, looking down at her own hands, which were not much cleaner. Her mother sighed. “You’re not exactly presentable either, Eleanor.”
Eleanor smiled. “It won’t take me two minutes to tidy up, Mama. I promise. I just need to wash, tidy my hair and put some proper shoes on.” She glanced down at the outdoor boots she’d hastily pulled on, the soles of which were buried half in the mud.
“I know,” Mama sighed. “You’re a good girl, Eleanor.”
Eleanor felt herself relax. Rebecca wriggled in her arms, and she hoisted her a little further up on her hip. She looked around the garden, her gaze moving from the stand of chrysanthemums in the corner, their bright blooms a splash of color against the tall grass of the lawn, to the herbs that grew beside the patch of vegetables by the kitchen. She loved plants and worked hard to make the garden as beautiful as she could.
“I’ll take you up to wash now, Becca,” she promised. “We’re going to have some nice cake. Aren’t we, Mama?” She smiled at her mother, who ran a hand through her graying blonde hair.
“Yes. Yes, we are,” she assured the child. Eleanor, glancing at her, could see how tense she was. She rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder, trying to put her at ease.
“I’m sure we’ll all have a fine tea, Mama,” she said, sure her mother was worried about hosting five more people. The household was small—Papa was a prosperous industrialist, but, after all the other expenses like the carriage and the horses, they could only afford one housekeeper, two maids, and a man who came in once a week to tend to the gardens. Much of the work about the house she and Mama did themselves, including tending the kitchen garden.
“You’re a dear,” Mama murmured, as they reached the house. “And look at you,” she said with a sigh, glancing down at the child on her hip, who was sleepily chewing her thumb. “You have a talent with children.”
“I like children,” Eleanor admitted. She kissed Rebecca on the head and lifted her so that she could wash her hands in the kitchen sink.
“I know. I hope you have plenty of children of your own soon,” Mama said seriously. Eleanor tensed, little Rebecca’s hands still in her own.
“I don’t think I shall, Mama,” she said carefully, setting Rebecca down on her feet. “After all, I am unwed. And it’s not soseemly to have them without being so.” She giggled.
Her mother sighed, looking serious. “Of course, Eleanor. But were you to wed, I mean...”
“An unlikely occurrence, Mama,” Eleanor said lightly. “I am one-and-twenty, and, as yet, I have found no man who appeals to me in the slightest. They’re all drunkards or fools—I mean, besides Papa and Jonathan, that is.” She blushed.
“You often say so,” her mother said dryly. “But, my dear, if you were to wed, I mean...” she began, drying her hands on her apron. Eleanor frowned.
“Mama, I don’t know why you say that. As I’ve said, I want a man like the ones in the novels I read—someone adventurous and bold, someone who’ll sweep me into a life of unpredictable delights. And I don’t think they really exist. I can’t marry a man who only exists in my head.” She chuckled at that.
“Eleanor...what if Papa found you a suitor?” Her mother’s eyes held her own. “A serious one?”
Eleanor frowned; her mouth dry. “Papa wouldn’t do that,” she said at once, dismissing the unpleasant thought immediately. “You know that you and he have always said that you wish for me and for Jonathan to marry for love. You did, you always said that. Since we were tiny.” she felt tense suddenly, without knowing why.
“Sweetheart...he has no choice.” Mama’s voice was serious. She looked up at Eleanor. She drew in a breath. Her mother’s eyes, the same green as her own, were tight at the edges with worried lines. Her stomach twisted and she leaned back, gripping the table.
“What, Mama?” she whispered. “What do you mean?” She tried to hold herself upright, feeling dizzy. The world suddenly made no sense. Her father, her dear, funny father who had always wanted the best for herself and Jonathan, would never do that. He would never force her into anything, she knew that.Nothing made sense to her, and she gripped the table, holding onto the firm solidness in a world that had suddenly become shifting and unpredictable.
“He had to, daughter. The judge left him no other choice. He had to.”
“The judge?” she whispered. “What in...what’s happening, Mama?” The tension of the past day suddenly made sense, but she would never have guessed that it had something to do with her. Nothing made sense.
Her mother drew in a breath. “It’s difficult to explain. I wish your father was here,” she added, looking around tensely. “But it’s Jonathan. Something he did in the business—I don’t know what it was—but it caused a lot of trouble.”
“Trouble?” Eleanor asked with a frown.
“Yes. He was up before the court, and he would have been sentenced to a long time in prison. He was terrified for Rachel and the children—what would happen to them, without his income? It would be the workhouse for them.”
“No!” She stared at her mother in horror, imagining the three little children trapped in the workhouse, starving to death while they were forced to sort rags or pick oakum.
