Page 15 of When We Touch

“I said, which would you prefer? Fish, or pheasant? Or perhaps both. The nuns always titter so over your arrival, Jamie. They’ll surely give you both.”

He forced a wry smile. “Fowl,” he said.

Foul. The world had gone foul.

It wasn’t right that such an exquisite young woman should be wed to such a very old man! That she should love him . . .

And yet, she had best love him, and only him, Jamie determined grimly. Charles absolutely deserved no less. She had appeared to recognize that Charles was refined and cultured, that he had once been a soldier, that he had moved in the world of the highest authority of the land, and still did. Surely, she would see all things, and be a good, loyal, and faithful wife.

Or else?

She would answer to him, and she would not be pleased to do so.

Chapter 3

In the days that came to pass, Maggie truly came to terms with her decision to marry Charles.

He was an amazing man. His stories about the world, his travels, the Queen’s little wars, his service to her, all were quite fascinating. He was modest when talking about himself, eloquent when talking about the Empire, and understanding when she chimed in to say that it was all well and good that they should create an Empire, but shouldn’t they be looking to some of the wretched poverty and violence within their own country?

He agreed, and she was delighted to learn that he had several of her own same interests, that he supported rebuilding in the East End, and found some of the situations beneath their very own noses to be intolerable, indeed.

He took her to the Crystal Palace to see a concert, to the theater, where they saw an amazing, frightening version of the play The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. They went to the Royal Opera House, where they had seats in the balcony next to those of the Prince of Wales and his wife, Princess Alexandra. They went on walks through St. James Park, and rides out to the country. Equally, he allowed her the private time she had always so cherished, nights with her poetry reading group at the restaurant in the Strand, social time with her small circle of friends, and more. Her “charity” time as she called it.

She had talked to him about some of her activities. Not all. There were a few events she attended that no one knew about except for Mireau. Charles might not know the actual extent of her work in the East End, but she did brush upon it.

As to the séances she attended . . .

Everyone knew about the first one she had gone to. The papers had been filled with news regarding her involvement.

Since then . . .

She didn’t dare admit that she was determined as ever to stop some of the charades taking place, when she could.

But she didn’t think that she’d ever tell Charles the truth about those nights.

And still, she grew to like him more and more.

He was quite a capable man, as well, having served the Crown in India, and he was equally happy to hop on public hackney cabs, and tell her how London had changed, just in his lifetime. The sewer system begun in the middle of the century had truly improved all their lives, he assured her, and the train had made distances shrink.

He shared her love of reading, and they found they could spend pleasant afternoons together just reading, from the works of William Shakespeare to Dickens, and the American, Mark Twain, and the newer works of men such as Arthur Conan Doyle. They argued Darwin’s theories, and every manner of new-ism of the nineteenth century, hypnotism or mesmerism, phrenology, and spiritualism.

She learned, as well, that he had a daughter, beloved, who was in school on the Continent, coming of age that year, and headstrong and rebellious.

“Of course, she has lacked the gentler ways of a mother. I know that you will become such a dear friend to her, and guide her in all things,” Charles told her confidently.

Maggie wondered if it would be quite so easy.

She learned that in his family, he had but his daughter and Sir James, who was actually his great nephew. Charles’s cousin, Jamie’s father, had served in India, and been knighted, and like his father, the son had gone into the Queen’s Service, and helped settle many an uprising in the Empire. He’d left the military, but been knighted as well, and often carried messages of the utmost importance to various ports around the world. Sometimes, Charles admitted, he worried about Jamie. He, too, seemed to have something of a disregard for the expectations of proper society. He’d fought in one too many skirmishes abroad, woke too easily in the night at the least sound, and expected danger behind every tree. When he wasn’t carrying messages or carrying out an assignment in a foreign port, Charles was pleased and relieved.

Jamie saw to the family estates, which were numerous, and Charles was sorry that he could not travel to them himself as he had done in his youth. “Young people leave the fields in droves, seeking wealth in the cities,” he said sorrowfully. “But in the north country, and in Scotland, there are still vast acres and we’ve many tenants raising fine herds of cattle and sheep. We grow what crops we can, as well. Sad to say, I can remember the time of the great famine, striking Ireland like God’s own hammer, but affecting us all. A sorrowful time it was, indeed. We must always take care that such hardship doesn’t come again.” And he had sighed. “Ah, but the world is changing so radically. Soon, mark you, the horse carriages will be a thing of the past, and I tell you, those machines, those automobiles will be everywhere. Technology and law have given us so much—and such unrest, as well. Radicals out in the streets, protests here and there, the poor invading even the finest neighborhoods, looting and robbing at times. Ah, well... there’s still so much to be done in the home country, eh? But as to Jamie, he does well, seeing that the rents are fair, our own stock is properly tended, and all is well. Still, he was saying the other day that he is growing restless, anxious to be about the world again.”

“He is off and about. You said he was bringing news of the wedding to Arianna.”

“Ah, yes, well, that’s barely a hop, skip, and a jump for Jamie. France is a ferry ride away, and the little town where Arianna goes to school is just a few miles from the coast.”

Maggie gave him a smile, but heartily hoped that Sir Jamie would be sent to the farthest reaches of darkest Africa when he returned from France.

But Charles was delightful to her brother, and enjoyed the company of Jacques Mireau, as well. He promised to help Jacques with his dreams of a writing career.