Page 40 of To Marry and to Meddle
“What is it, dearest?” Violet asked, a concerned glint in her eye. An effect of Violet having so recently and happily reconciled with her own husband was a strong desire to see her friends equally happily settled. She had been successful in this endeavor with Diana—though Emily personally wasn’t at all sure that Violet had had anything to do with that—and now seemed to have turned her attention to Emily. And Emily, while appreciative of the concern, was not certain she wanted it.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, and then instantly regretted it, seeing both Diana’s and Violet’s gazes sharpen on her, clearly sensing that there was a story to be told here. This, Emily reflected, was the difficulty in having friends one had known for nearly half of one’s life. Realizing that any attempt at evasion would be futile, she capitulated.
“It’s just…” Emily started, trying to work out how to articulate precisely what she was feeling. “It’s just that I suppose I thought being married to Julian Belfry, of all people, would be a bit more exciting?”
“I tend to think that the less exciting a marriage is, the better,” Violet said with the wisdom of a woman who had spent a solid fortnightthat summer coughing into a handkerchief, attempting to convince her husband that she was at death’s door.
“In some ways, yes,” Emily said, “but in others… I don’t know. I’ve spent my entire life paying calls on ladies of thetonand discussing the weather and the latest society gossip. I’ve spent years on my very best behavior, afraid to put so much as a toe out of line for fear of it ruining all of my family’s hopes. And now, I’ve married a man who was disinherited by his own father, who owns an infamously scandalous theater, who causes gossip whenever he puts in an appearance at any sort of society event… and yet, it doesn’t feel terribly different. He expects me to be perfect, proper Emily, and go about much as I always have, courting the favor of women whom I find tedious at best. He won’t even take me to the theater yet, because he wants to be sure that I’m presenting the image of a perfect society wife! So, really, what was the point of all of this, if I’m just to live the same life I’ve always lived?”
She broke off, breathing a bit quickly, and realized that both of her friends were staring at her, dumbstruck. She thought that that might have been the longest monologue she had ever spoken before them—while Emily did not hesitate to speak her mind when in Violet’s and Diana’s company, she was still not prone to speeches of that length or passion. But the past month, on top of the past six years of her life, seemed to have been some sort of breaking point for her, and now she could not keep back the sudden rush of feeling. Of frustration.
She was ready for her life to be something different, and had hoped that marriage to Julian would be the first step in making that happen.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried. Many evenings, when Julian returned home from the Belfry, they shared a cup of tea—or often, in Julian’s case, brandy—in the library, and he had not been hesitantto discuss with her the many frustrations at the theater. He wasn’t thrilled with the actress who had taken Miss Simmons’s place, she knew, and he was worried thatMuch Ado About Heavenwould not prove enough of a departure from the Belfry’s usual fare to send the message he wished it to.
“I would be happy to come watch one of the rehearsals,” Emily had ventured tentatively the week before, in the midst of one of these discussions. “If you’d like a lady’s opinion on the matter.”
Julian had surveyed her over the rim of his glass, and she’d tried to look casual, to ensure that none of her curiosity, her desperate wish to be a part of this aspect of his life, showed on her face.
“Emily,” he said after a pause, “we need to ensure that everything about our marriage appears above reproach. You’ll undoubtedly raise some eyebrows if you are seen popping in and out of the theater constantly.”
“But,” Emily said and then hesitated, weighing her words. She hated pressing—hated feeling that she was being a nuisance. “But I think I could help,” she said a bit uncertainly. “If you are preparing for a show that aims to attract respectable ladies, then why not allow me to offer my opinion? Let me come watch a rehearsal—take me on a tour of the theater.” She took a breath, realizing that she was speaking too fervently, her eagerness evident in her voice. “You married me because I am exactly the sort of lady you wish to attract to the Belfry. Why not allow me to help?”
“Because,” he said firmly, taking a sip of his drink, “you will best be able to help me by courting the favor of society wives—not creeping around backstage where you’re bound to see something that shocks you.”
They had been interrupted then by the appearance of Bramble,announcing that Lord Penvale and Lady Templeton had arrived for dinner, but Emily could not help thinking, as she rose and prepared to greet her friends, that she was not, perhaps, as easily shocked as her husband thought.
“Emily,” Diana said now, a touch gleefully, “are you saying that you want to cause ascandal?”
“No,” Emily said, and Diana sagged a bit. “I don’t think causing a scandal would be in my best interests. Julian married me to do quite the opposite.”
“Well, he’s hardly going to leave you if you don’t perform up to standards,” Violet pointed out. “You’re his wife, not a member of staff. And I presume the marriage is consummated? In which case, you’re in this together, so you needn’t worry about not being useful to him anymore, because what on earth is he going to do, even if you aren’t the perfectly behaved wife he thought he was marrying?”
“Find a mistress to take up with and never come home again,” Emily said, giving voice to a thought that had lingered in the back of her mind ever since she and Julian had agreed to wed. She had made him promise not to lie to her, but she hadn’t asked anything of him regarding fidelity. And yet, she could not help but feel a pang of sadness when she imagined such a thing—them spending their evenings apart, as well as their days.
Because the truth was, when he was at home, spending time with her, Emilylikedbeing married to Julian. He listened to her in a way that no one other than Violet and Diana ever really had, with the entirety of his attention, and in such a way that she knew he was taking her thoughts and concerns seriously.
And then, in the evenings, he took her to bed—and, she’d learned, she very much liked that, too. She did not find this surprising,precisely—friendship with Violet and Diana had taught her that marital relations (or not-yet-marital relations, in Diana’s case) could be just as enjoyable for ladies as they were for gentlemen, after all. And yet, Emily had always prided herself on her control, on the perfection of the appearance she presented to the world—in her looks, in her behavior, in her conversation. It was strange to realize how much she enjoyed these moments when she was not in control at all.
All that was to say: she didn’t wish to irritate him enough to drive him to find a mistress. But she didn’t wish to be excluded from his life, either.
She wasn’t certain how to explain any of this to her friends, though—her friends, who had found the love matches that Emily had abandoned hope of long ago. Something in her voice, however, must have signaled some of her inner turmoil, because Diana’s and Violet’s eyes narrowed in identical looks of suspicion.
“Has Belfry indicated that he plans to take a mistress?” Diana asked, her tone deceptively casual. There was nothing in her demeanor to indicate that Julian’s life might be in danger, but Emily had known Diana long enough to know that, depending on how she answered, he might be at risk.
“No,” Emily said hastily, not particularly wishing to become a widow within a month of her marriage. “But we agreed to be honest,” she added. “When we decided to wed, we agreed that there wouldn’t be lies between us, no feigning a deeper feeling that didn’t exist. It was one of the conditions I laid out before I accepted his proposal.”
“But,” Violet asked, uncharacteristically hesitant, “what if deeper feelings were to emerge?”
“They won’t,” Emily said firmly. “This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more.”
“But darling, I thought youlikedBelfry,” Diana protested.
“I do,” Emily said. “And because of that, I’ve no intention of ruining a perfectly pleasant marriage by mooning over a man who will never return the feeling.”
“But you don’t know—”
“Enough!” Emily said, setting down her teacup with a decisiveclink. She very rarely assumed a stern, firm tone; it was so much easier to be pleasant, pliant, bending to the wishes of those around her—it was how she had kept the peace with her parents for years, after all. Where Diana liked to push against the boundaries of society, of what was expected of her, Emily was perfectly content to exist within its constraints. It was oftentimes possible to get what one wished with a smile and a polite word and a bit of cunning.
