Chapter 24

T he Knights’ coldness meant nothing. Angelica clung to that reassurance as she began sorting through the props and costumes that had already been gathered up, placing them in their appropriate baskets and ticking them off her list as she took stock of all that had been used. Lifting a purple cape one of the fairies had worn, Angelica couldn’t help a faint smile; it had been her costume during her first pantomime.

“Congratulations, dearest,” said Mama, sweeping in beside her daughter with a beaming grin. “It was a grand success.”

“And many thanks belong to our fair princess,” replied Angelica.

“I do hope you won’t fret so much next year. With hardly a hiccup, there isn’t any need to work yourself up over all those details,” added Mama, glancing at the list in her daughter’s hands.

Angelica huffed. “I fret and prepare so we have performances with ‘hardly a hiccup.’”

“And you do a brilliant job of it. I just wish you wouldn’t work yourself into such a dither.” Mama paused, but before Angelica could fill the silence, she hurried on to add, “You and Mr. Knight look quite cozy of late. I would dare say he’s spent more time with you than your father in the past sennight. Always together.”

The words were clear enough on their own, but the insinuating tone and eager light in the lady’s eyes turned the comment from invasive to overbearing, and the whole of it was so unexpected that Angelica could only gape in response.

“Hush, I know you do not care for my meddling, but I cannot hold my tongue any longer,” added Mama in a rush as she flicked her hands in the air as though batting away Angelica’s preferences like a gnat. “You two are such a good match—”

“He is a friend , Mama.”

“But he could be more,” she replied with a sing-song tone. Then, with a heavy sigh, Mama added with a dreamy smile, “We’ve hoped for so long that you would find love, and the possibility has now fallen into your lap.”

“I have love in my life—”

“But not passion,” said Mama with another dismissive bat of her hands. “We want you to find a good man to love you. Pine for you. Worship you. I know you are stubbornly set against it, but you cannot know how incredible it is to have a—”

“Slave? For that is what you seem to be describing.”

Mama scowled, placing her hands on her hips. “You are being purposefully obtuse.”

Turning away, Angelica crouched beside the largest basket, sifting through the bits and bobs, and Mama shifted to stand in front of her.

“Mr. Knight is a good man, and you ought to give him a chance. You cannot live your whole life without knowing such joy—”

“Mama, let it be!” said Angelica, stuffing the linens into the basket. “And do not say a word to Mr. Knight. It would only embarrass us both.”

“You are being so silly. I do not know how you can have such a grand opportunity and turn away from it. What else is there in life if one does not have love? I cannot imagine my life without your father for nothing else in my life matters without him.”

Pausing, Angelica stared at the lady, whose expression held all the hallmarks of an earnest heart, and whose eyes pleaded for her daughter to understand and agree. Nothing else mattered? How often had she heard her parents say such a thing?

It wasn’t as though Angelica wanted her parents to place her before their marriage, for it was Ernest and Jane who had stood before the vicar and promised to love, honor, and cherish until death; they had a responsibility to their children, of course, but it was husband and wife who had made a sacred pact that couldn’t be broken.

However, there was a difference between having her parents value their relationship above all things and dismissing everything else as meaningless. Angelica wanted to believe there was an unspoken caveat that placed their children among the significant things in their lives, but the fact that she could never say for certain was telling enough.

“You are being silly, dear,” said Mama. “Mr. Knight is enamored, and you ought not to squander such an opportunity. You may never get another—”

“You are being ridiculous!” Guinevere’s voice cut through the din of the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention to where she stood on the far side of the stage. Their conversation forgotten, Mama and Angelica watched as Clarence stood before his wife, his complexion growing florid as he whispered something back to her that (though quiet) was no less livid.

“What would you possibly know about what makes me happy!” she shouted back, her body growing rigid as she invaded his space. “You never loved me. Never cared what I want as long as you could have your pretty little wife on your arm, scurrying about to see to your every need.”

“I never loved you?” he barked back. “Do you know how much I have sacrificed for you? How much effort I put into catering to your every whim? What have I ever done that isn’t for your well-being? I work myself to the bone—”

“You spend your days standing in a shop,” she scoffed. “I am trapped in that dismal little box you dare to call a home with our children forever hanging on me, demanding every last bit of my soul. I swear I am nothing but a husk now, sucked dry by you and our children!”

The whole argument was spinning so quickly out of control that Angelica was stuck in place, uncertain what to do as more and more of the voices on the other side of the curtain softened, their attention turning toward the additional entertainment the Callaghan family was providing. And those on the stage remained equally trapped in place, as though afraid to move lest it draw the couple’s attention.

With rigid bodies and scowling expressions, husband and wife trotted out every heartache and wrong they’d suffered in the entirety of their relationship, dusting each off like it was the family’s finest china that had been packed away and kept out of sight, but ready and waiting to be used for special occasions.

Guinevere shoved at the gentleman, causing him to stumble back a step, and that broke the spell, forcing the family into action as they swarmed that side of the stage. In a trice, Mama drew Guinevere’s attention away, placing an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and murmuring little reassurances whilst Papa forced the other gawkers away, leaving Clarence alone and abandoned by what ought to be his family, even if it was by marriage.

Standing before him, Angelica refused to leave. Though she couldn’t claim a special acquaintance with her brother-in-law, she’d known the gentleman for so many years that even if they weren’t exactly friends, they were friendly. Her thoughts swirled into a torrent, hoping to dredge up something of use to say in this difficult situation.

Clarence leaned against the hulking wall, his strength seeming to leach into the stone, and Angelica merely stood by him, hoping he would know he wasn’t alone. Guinevere was her sister, but the moment she’d exchanged vows with Clarence Cogswell, he had become Angelica’s brother, and he deserved the same consideration and patience she was willing to grant her siblings by birth.

“What am I to do?” he murmured, his eyes lifting to the timber beams that sprouted from the gray bricks like the ribs of a skeleton. “She is so unhappy, and everything I do to help matters only sends her into a dither. At times like this, I wonder if I married her only because my parents were so set against the match.”

“Does it matter?” The question sprang from Angelica’s lips before she could think better of it, but she didn’t regret it. Sometimes the hardest truths were best delivered bluntly.

Clarence’s brows rose at that. “Of course it does.”

“The marriage is formed, and there is no way to undo it—unless you happen to have some unknown sway in Parliament that would allow you to petition for a divorce?” she asked, fully knowing he didn’t have that or any justification the government would accept to grant such a special request.

Not bothering to answer, Clarence sagged even more against the wall.

“Mistake or not, you chose to marry her.” Though direct, Angelica softened her tone, filling it to the brim with sympathy, for such advice was simply given but not easy to follow. “And no amount of regrets will alter that fact, but fixating on that will only make you resent her more. That, in turn, will eradicate any hope you have of building a good relationship with her.”

Letting out a heaving sigh, he nodded. “You are right. There is enough resentment already. We needn’t add to it.”

Silence fell once more as he turned his attention to studying the flagstones at their feet. “But how am I to do it when she is always making my life so difficult? I loved her dearly when we married, but I find it impossible to even like her now. She is so stubborn! Forever thinking that life ought to be nothing but merriment and belittling the work I do. And she knew what I was when I married her!”

Just as Clarence knew Guinevere was often flighty and irresponsible—and had ignored it.

“What am I to do?” he murmured again.

“I would say a good place to start would be to stop believing yourself to be the victim of her villainy. I’ve seen many marriages fall to pieces, and except on rare occasions where one party truly is cruel and wicked, the unhappiness stems from both husband and wife. It is not entirely Guinevere’s fault, just as it is not entirely yours.”

Clarence stiffened, pushing off the wall with a scowl. “She is far more at fault than I am. If she would simply honor her responsibilities, then we would be happy—”

“Just as she believes that you two would be happy if you stopped demanding things of her,” replied Angelica with a raise of her brows. “No relationship can survive without a healthy amount of compromise and forgiveness on both parts. For every vexing thing she does, I guarantee she has an equally long list for you. And to be frank, you will never succeed in any relationship if you hold your forgiveness hostage—”

“I do forgive her. Constantly!”

Crossing her arms, Angelica let out a breath, her shoulders sagging as the air fled her lungs. “I don’t know what more to say. Whether or not you wish to admit it, you chose to marry her, and you are now dealing with the consequences of that choice. Now, you face another decision—simmer in your righteous indignation and lay all the blame on your wife or stop fixating on her behavior and control your own. It isn’t easy, and it requires great sacrifice, but Guinevere is not a wicked person nor are you wholly innocent.”

“Did you not hear that exchange?” asked Clarence with raised brows. “All I did was insist that she see to her duties as a wife and mother, and she called me ridiculous—”

Angelica held up her hands to stop him before he worked himself into another temper. “You asked for advice, Clarence, and I am giving it. If you wished for me to swoop in and validate every ugly thing you are thinking about Guinevere, you shouldn’t have asked me. You know better than to think I will lie to soothe your pride.”

The muscles in his jaw strained, his teeth grinding together as he stared Angelica down, but in a family renowned for tempestuousness, it would take far more than a little glaring to discompose her. A long moment stretched out as he held her gaze, but Angelica refused to look away. And then his body relaxed back into the wall, and Clarence huffed, a begrudging smile turning up one corner of his lips.

“I do know better.” A pause, and then he added, “But you do not understand how exhausting it is.”

“Need I remind you that I spent twenty-two years living with Guinevere—including overseeing her education, which I can assure you was so infuriating at times that it was a miracle I didn’t toss her out the nursery window,” she said in a wry tone. “It wasn’t easy, but focus on improving your patience and forgiveness rather than being angry that she hasn’t perfected them.”

“And if she never changes?”

“Then at least you will be a better person and better able to handle life’s disappointments.”

Clarence’s eyes unfocused, his expression clearing as he contemplated that. Angelica could hardly breathe as she watched him; such advice was a bitter pill to swallow, but it didn’t alter the truth. Long seconds passed, and with each one, Angelica prayed he would listen.

“So, you think I should become an obsequious weakling who ignores the fact that his wife is running roughshod over him?” he asked.

“That is not at all what I said, Clarence. If your marriage is miserable, it is because you are both so busy blaming the other whilst ignoring your own shortcomings—”

“And so I must alter myself, regardless of whether or not she follows suit.”

“That or choose to continue in misery.”

But it was as though he couldn’t hear her any longer. Clarence continued to mutter about Guinevere’s troubles, weighing them with far more of a critical eye than he did his own. And Angelica knew it was a lost cause. Turning, she strode away to let the fellow stew, for she had no time for self-pitying nonsense. Perhaps that was uncaring, but Angelica had enough on her plate without taking on his troubles as well.

Pausing, she stopped just long enough to add, “Whatever the situation is now, I know you two married because you loved each other. Guinevere might be difficult and stubborn, but she is also a Callaghan, and there is nothing they prize more than love. Remember that—and remember that you fought to have her as your wife once upon a time.”

And with that, Angelica swept away.