14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Dinner was a painful affair. Jethro’s temper simmered just below the surface, and the strain of keeping it under control left him in no mood to converse with his ungrateful wife.

How dare she question his actions? The maid’s talk had been unforgiveable, and yet Cassandra—his wife , who had promised to obey him—had presumed to suggest he had acted harshly.

His employees never questioned his decisions. Crowley made suggestions, but when a thing was decided, it was fixed. Immutable. But they had not vowed to submit to him, and he could dismiss them if they disobeyed his orders.

Jethro would not alter his decision to dismiss the maid just because his wife was more sympathetic than he was.

He had been acting in her interests. Why couldn’t she see that? Such gossip over their marriage could take a long time to stamp out, and he didn’t want Cassandra to get hurt, as she undoubtedly would, if such rumours spread.

Jethro was relieved when the meal was over. The silence was becoming oppressive.

As they rose from the table, an unwelcome thought nagged at him. He should not let the sun go down on his anger. Humph. It was his duty as the head of the household to make peace with his wife.

If Cassandra would not break the silence, he supposed he must .

He followed her into the drawing room, shut the door, and took a seat opposite her before he licked his lips and began.

“I apologise if my actions seemed harsh to you.”

Cassandra sat with her hands folded tightly together in her lap and met his gaze without wavering. “I did not mean to challenge your right to dismiss my maid. I meant no disrespect. With my father’s illness, I have had to make such decisions for myself. It is harder than I thought to fall out of the habit of independent thinking. Forgive me.”

Jethro accepted his wife’s apology, but hoped she would not feel the need to think for herself too often. He did not care to have her questioning his authority. Especially not if it led to such an acute disagreement as it had done today.

Now that a truce had been made, they could move on. He was tempted to retreat to his office, but he remembered Crowley’s nagging words, urging him to spend more time with his wife, and so remained where he was.

Having maintained a stony silence over dinner, Jethro took the opportunity to ask about her day.

“I spent a great deal of your money on some new gowns from Mrs Fisher’s,” Cassandra said, with a lightness that was at odds with their previous conversation, “and subscribed to Harvey’s Library. It was a strange sensation, taking out a subscription in the name of Mrs Hunt, but I am certain I will become accustomed to my married name in due course. Especially once we start moving in society. Which reminds me of something I wanted to discuss with you—visiting cards.”

Visiting cards? They were a symbol of the polite society he had avoided for so long—and that he now needed to enter. An unpleasant taste formed in Jethro’s mouth just remembering how clumsy he felt moving in such circles.

His unease must have shown on his face, as Cassandra sounded less confident as she continued. “I observed that the pile of visiting cards on the plate in the hall is growing.”

Was it? He hadn’t noticed.

“We should respond to them.”

“We should?”

“Of course. Are you not in the habit of doing so?”

There she was. Doing it again. Making him feel inadequate. “Cards are rarely left unless they are to do with business. If there is a pile, it must be as a compliment to you. ”

Cassandra tilted her head to one side. “Maybe. I received a large number of cards on my father’s death, but he served the parish for many years before his illness, so I put it more down to him than me.”

“Then, by all means, reply to them, if you wish.”

She let out a little gurgle of laughter. “If I wish? Jethro, it would be the height of rudeness not to send our own cards in return.”

“Then do so.”

“Have you ordered some?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“My father had new calling cards printed as soon as he and my stepmother wed, but I guess you have been so busy in the weeks since we married it is hardly surprising it got overlooked.”

Jethro did not like to tell her it was more than overlooked. He didn’t know it was necessary.

“Will your existing card suffice, or do you wish to have new ones printed for both of us at the same time?”

Jethro tried to look nonchalant. “I think new ones would be best.” He didn’t want to admit he didn’t have any visiting cards. He had never seen the need. His trade card had always sufficed.

“Could you order some tomorrow?” she asked.

Jethro nodded. The stationer would know what was appropriate for a newly married couple.

“As soon as they arrive, we need to send a reply to everyone who left a card. If we wish to be on visiting terms, we invite them to call. What day would suit you best to receive our guests?”

Cassandra’s expectant gaze penetrated his normally tough exterior, making him wriggle in his seat. She clearly assumed he would sit through these wedding visits with her, but he could not see that his presence was necessary. His wife would manage much better without him.

“I am rarely at home to receive calls, and I make none that are not connected with business.”

When his wife continued to stare, he rushed to defend himself. He wanted her to understand his actions.

“I can’t be bothered with such a waste of time. The visits are pointless. Nothing of any import is discussed, and you know the visitor no better at the end than you did when they arrived. What, then, is the purpose?”

“If you wish to be received as a gentleman, you need to conform to the niceties of society.”

“And if I don’t want to conform? ”

Cassandra let out an exasperated sigh. “I thought you wished to be accepted into society.”

His wife had a point. That was, after all, why he had married her, wasn’t it? Why was it such a struggle to embrace her gentle guidance? It wasn’t as if she was lording it over him.

Perhaps it was because it made him feel helpless. If he had taken the time to learn how to conduct himself in polite company, he would not now be on the receiving end of instruction. But he had never seen the point.

He shouldn’t need her help. His grip on his life was slipping, and he disliked the sensation. Cassandra should be looking to him for direction, not the other way around.

Jethro enjoyed taking care of her, even if she didn’t appreciate it. He wasn’t so keen on the idea of her taking care of him. He shouldn’t need it.

“Well?” she said, her voice a little less certain than it had been a few moments before. “Do you wish to be accepted into society? That is why you married me, isn’t it? To help you?”

Jethro grunted. “What’s the hurry? Mr Wade has delayed his visit until June.”

“If the thought of mixing in polite company makes you feel this uncomfortable, we need all the time we can get.”

Jethro grunted again. Why did she have to be right?

“Will you let me help you?”

“What must I do?” he said in a resigned tone.

“We need to go through the cards that have been left for us, and decide which acquaintances we wish to keep up. Everyone gets a card in reply, but only those with whom we wish to further our relationship are invited to call. After we’ve received them, we must return their visits.”

Jethro frowned. He did not like the sound of visitors disturbing his routine. “I doubt I can spare the time for that.”

“Then marrying me was a waste of time,” she said, her voice catching on the last phrase. “I cannot help you if you won’t be helped.”

“It was not a waste of time marrying you,” he said, desperate to bring the smile back to her face. “See how much you’ve helped me already? I’ll try. That’s the best I can promise. Let’s go through that pile of cards now.”

He rang the bell, and the footman brought the silver salver that sat on the hall table which had upward of twenty cards sitting on it .

He started flicking through them, and as he read out the names, Cassandra wrote them down.

“Miss Seymour from the school on St Mary Street. Mr Barnes, the curate. Mr and Mrs Gibbons, the sexton and his wife. Mr and Mrs Fisher?”

“The dressmaker and her husband. Mrs Fisher is a particular friend of mine.”

“But not the kind of company I wish my wife to keep. That is one acquaintance you would do well to drop. You can’t convince me that a lady is normally on visiting terms with her dressmaker.”

He made to move on, but Cassandra interrupted him.

“Whilst I would agree with you in principle, Jethro, the situation is unusual. As my dressmaker, Mrs Fisher would not expect a visit, but as the wife of an Earl’s son, she most certainly would.”

“Mr Fisher is the son of an Earl? I didn’t realise. Why on earth? Forget it. I don’t need to know. Mrs Frampton?”

“Much as I would like to cut her, it would cause more talk than if we continued on our previous familiar footing. Though the fault was hers, I worry that the broken engagement reflects poorly on Xander.”

“I’m inclined to agree, though I have no wish for my wife to mingle with such a shallow individual. It would be unwise to risk offending my rival. Add her to the list.”

As the salver emptied, the list grew longer. Only a few required no more than a card. Did he really have to entertain all these people? The thought made his spirits sink.

He could not afford to spend so many hours away from his business. Was becoming a gentleman really worth the time?

And then he remembered why he had been prompted to marry. His need to impress Mr Wade.

If he secured another round of capital investment, he could expand his business and overtake Frampton as the number one merchant in Weymouth.

A little voice at the back of his mind murmured that then he would have even less time for the gentleman’s way of life. Even less time for his wife.