Chapter Twelve

Clarissa woke late that morning. She hugged to herself the exciting knowledge she and Francis had come to an agreeable new understanding about their marriage. Francis had bid her goodbye at dawn with a kiss that had turned into far more before he extracted himself from their bed. She hadn't wanted to let him go to his early morning appointment. How wicked of a clergyman's wife!

She buried her nose in the sheets and inhaled the sandalwood and citrus scent of him. As she stretched languorously on the soft mattress, she smiled to herself at the memory of their extremely satisfying activities.

Her body had heated immediately when he kissed her. At first, anxious to confide her revelation to him, she had stopped him before she got distracted by their kisses. But once the words were said, there had been no stopping for either of them until they had proven their desire for each other in the most pleasing way. Francis was so clever to know ways to enjoy intimacy with each other that didn't threaten her career.

A knock sounded on the outer door. She ignored it. Perhaps whoever it was would go away if she didn't answer.

Another more insistent rap sounded.

Clarissa sighed and hastily donned her chemise and added her silk robe over the top. She finger-combed her hair. She should not be answering his door, but they already needed to find new accommodation, so there couldn't be more than a little to-do about her presence here as Francis's wife.

After another loud knock, Clarissa carefully eased the door open and peeked around it.

A young blonde lady, wearing a fashionable outfit of the best quality, stood in the hallway. A uniformed footman stood behind her. The woman's mouth dropped open. She snapped it closed.

Who could this be? "How may I help you?" Clarissa asked, using her best enunciation. Aunt Dora's money had not been wasted on her elocution lessons.

"You may help me by telling me what you are doing in the Reverend Brody's rooms," the lady demanded with all the righteousness of rank and wealth.

"And who are you to be asking, madam?" Clarissa pertly responded, unwilling to show obeisance to this stranger.

"I'm Lady Dalton. And you are?"

Clarissa puffed out her chest. "I am Reverend Francis Brody's wife."

"His wife!" The woman almost screeched the words. "Since when?" she demanded.

"Since a week ago. Why are you enquiring after my husband, Lady Dalton?"

Her eyes widened. "I'm his sister."

Clarissa stared at the attractive woman while she took in this unexpected information. "How do you do?" She sank into a well-practiced curtsy. "You had better come in, my lady," Clarissa said, opening the door wide. "Shall I make tea?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm only here to invite Francis to dinner at my home tonight. Both of you must come. You'll meet Francis's other sisters and my husband."

"I'm sure Francis will be delighted. As am I. Are you sure you don't have time for tea?"

"Perhaps I do." Her new relative stepped across the threshold into the room, leaving the footman outside. "Now that we're sisters, I feel I should know your name," Lady Dalton said.

"I am Clarissa, Lady Dalton." She closed the door.

Lady Dalton smiled, and it appeared genuine. "You must call me Jane. My brother mentioned you, but I had no idea he was courting you. I'm curious to know more."

While they sat either side of the warm hearth, teacups in hand, Jane interviewed Clarissa on the where, why and how of her marriage to Francis. The experience was intense, although not wholly unpleasant, as Jane accepted her answers without any appearance of judgement. A short time later, Clarissa's exulted visitor swept out of Francis's lodgings on her way, she said, to the Welfare League Home for Unmarried Mothers in Wapping.

Her sister-in-law's friendliness had surprised and charmed Clarissa and made her hopeful that she would be accepted by all Francis's family. However, doubts still niggled in her mind about how his family would react to his marrying an actress. She could not be their first choice for their clergyman brother, who needed someone who behaved with propriety and set a good example for his parishioners.

***

Soon after the church bells of London rang to signal noon, Francis arrived home in time to lunch with Clarissa. Her heart did its usual flip-flop when he entered. Truly, she had no regrets about her marriage.

He seemed distracted but pulled her into his arms for a bone-crushing hug. "Are you all right?" she whispered in his ear, as she tightened her arms around hm.

"I am now," he answered on an exhaled breath.

She eased herself from his arms to look at him. Despite his words, he still seemed lost in thought. "Your sister Jane has invited us to a family dinner at Dalton House tonight." She blurted out the news to bring his attention back to her.

"Jane was here?" Francis blinked at the news, then gave a decisive tip of his chin. "Good. I can introduce you to my sisters all at once."

Clarissa nodded.

Francis smiled. "Excellent, we can dine there after your performance."

"What are your sisters like?" Clarissa asked, as she twisted the woolen skirt of her dress with her fingers.

"You'll like them, and they'll love you. Except for Katherine, who is a pupil teacher at present, they are the directors and teachers of the Brody School for Young Ladies, which you have already visited."

"Won't they look down on me when they're told I'm an actress?"

"Don't give that a thought. My family is well-known for its liberal social views."

They must be a very unusual family indeed, if they would welcome an actress into their midst. She hadn't thought about the family she was joining! Why hadn't she considered this before their marriage? Because it was be only a marriage of convenience .

Clarissa couldn't help suspecting that Francis was gilding the lily about his family. Her stomach clenched at the thought of meeting them, but she would do it. She swallowed her fear and began to ready herself for the ordeal, both mentally and physically, by wearing her best silk dress.

***

Clarissa arrived with Francis for dinner at Dalton House in Grosvenor Square after her performance. Jane and her husband, the Marquis of Dalton, greeted them. Francis introduced her to his younger sisters.

Charlotte, clearly the elder of the sisters whom Clarissa hadn't met, had a thin face and a worried look. Why? The next sister was Anna. Her face was calm and cheerful, with a smile that warmed her voice as she greeted Clarissa. Katherine's dark hair hung down her back in a long plait, revealing that she was not yet old enough to be out in society.

These were the young women who ran a school for young ladies. She admired their youthful enterprise. And their determination to teach girls the classics and mathematics, subjects usually reserved for boys, amazed her. That didn't happen at The Duke Street Orphanage. She marveled at Katherine teaching advanced mathematics, despite her youth.

Would she have enjoyed such an education if the orphanage had offered it? Perhaps not, as acting was her passion. But she liked the idea of there being choices for girls, rather than educating them for the narrow domestic sphere to which they were generally confined.

As an actress, she felt liberated from those confines and wouldn't enjoy being pushed back into them.

Francis's family was welcoming, quietly curious, and surprisingly supportive of her acting career. Clearly, Jane had disseminated the family gossip to all of them, as they didn't press Francis or her for further details about their hasty marriage. Instead, they offered their congratulations and showed only quiet disappointment in missing the event. Francis had maintained they were liberal-minded, and that seemed to be the case for all the Brody family present tonight.

The Marquis of Dalton was a Corinthian, from his short brown hair swept upon his brow and his tall athletic body clad in the best of men's fashion, to his shiny black shoes. Although welcoming, he was quieter than his family-in-law.

Francis's older brother, William, who had a military bearing and a harsh face, arrived last. Introductions made, and his welcoming words added to those of his family, he turned to Francis. "So tell me, brother, how you come to be married, and so quickly, to the belle of Covent Garden? When I left you at The Regent Theatre you professed it your duty to become acquainted with Miss Bartlett. I see you have created a new definition for professional interest." He lightened his words with a chuckle and a swift grin at his brother.

Some of his sisters gasped at his bluntness. Jane covered her smile with a hand, while her husband raised a dark eyebrow. All eyes riveted to Francis.

Clarissa stepped closer to her husband and settled her hand into the crook of his arm. "Well, that's quite a story," she said with her most charming smile fixed on her face. Her gaze swept the group. "Shall we start at the beginning, Frank?"

"I fear we must, my dear," he answered with gusty sigh, playing to the audience as she had hoped he would.

They related their history with all the dramatic embellishment they had practiced while reading lines together during their enforced co-habitation. And his family loved its telling, rewarding them with exclamations, gasps and laughter, as each scene required. At the conclusion of their tale, the sisters hurried forward to hug Clarissa. Tears prickled her eyes at their warmth towards her.

They sat down to a hearty dinner, fit for a winter's day. Once the soup course had been removed, the main course served, and their wine glasses filled, the Marquis called for everyone to raise their glasses to toast to the newlyweds and formally welcome Clarissa to their family.

Their kindness sent heat flooding her face. The flush to her cheeks had just subsided when his lordship resumed speaking. "Jane also organized this dinner to celebrate Francis's appointment to the living that I promised him some time ago…to occur when the present incumbent retired." The Marquis raised his glass again. "To Francis, congratulations on being appointed to the living at Everslie. Reverend Ramsdown has finally retired. He decided in a hurry over Christmas and informed me just before we returned to London. I think he feels his age at last."

The company raised their glasses and drank to him. Their good wishes chimed in over the top of each other.

"Congratulations, Francis."

"At last."

"I'm so pleased."

"A home for you both."

Excitement for Francis bubbled through Clarissa. Francis had been appointed to a living and would have his own home!

Beside Clarissa, Francis stiffened in his seat. He lifted his glass in acknowledgement. "Thank you. This takes me by surprise." He didn't look overjoyed about the news like his family.

"What's wrong, Francis?" Clarissa whispered before taking a sip of her drink.

"We can discuss it later."

This sounds ominous. She turned to their host. "Lord Dalton, is Francis's new parish close to London?" she asked hopefully.

A flicker of confusion passed over his face and he glanced at Francis before answering. "No. The living is in Hampshire, based around my family's estate."

"Hampshire!" Her stomach sank. In the country. So far away. Oh god, the mud.

Lord Dalton dipped his chin.

"That is extremely generous of you, Lord Dalton," she said through numb lips. And she meant her words too, but at the same time Clarissa knew she could not live there. She still could not see herself as a rector's wife happily going to church and doing good works, while raising Francis's children, as would be expected of her. Let alone living in the wilds of Hampshire.

Francis fidgeted on his chair then met her gaze. "Would you be willing to try residing in Hampshire with me? If you don't enjoy life there, you could return to your career in London in time for the next season."

The table went quiet, waiting for her answer. She scanned the assembled company. All eyes were on her. On the whole, they were kindly eyes, but speculation was rich within them.

"I'm not…I don't believe I'm in a position to leave London for the joys of country living yet. When I have a solid career behind me perhaps, but not now."

"Will you not try?" Francis asked. There was a strained note of pleading in his lowered voice.

She frowned at him. Why did he not understand how important her career was to her? Disappointment and sadness filled her. "No, my love, I cannot."

"Is it not your duty as my wife to support me in my endeavors?" he exclaimed. "I need you." There was pain in his voice.

Someone coughed politely. Was that Jane? Does she disagree with the idea that Francis's career is more important than my own and the view that I ought to support him as a priority?

Clarissa clenched her jaw, determined not to point out that, at present, she was probably the bigger money earner by far of either of them, and able to support him financially. She glanced around. All interest remained on them, albeit discretely.

Jane spoke up. "Francis, perhaps you should take some time to consider whether a living in Hampshire will serve your interests best?"

Francis cleared his throat. "But Jane, it is what I've aimed for since I first went up to Oxford at sixteen years of age. How can I turn down such a gift, especially when Jonathan has, no doubt, overlooked a dozen equally worthy recipients to offer the living to me. Father would have been ecstatic about such an opportunity."

"That's as maybe, Francis, but our father was a country-raised man and always yearned to return there. That was not to be, and we grew up here in London. I think you're far more at home in the capital than you would be in rural Hampshire."

Francis shook his head. "I'm persuaded I must take it."

"But will it make you happy?"

"If my wife is beside me, I expect I will be marvelously happy."

Jane lifted an eyebrow but held her tongue.

"But at what cost to me, Francis?" Clarissa whispered.

"Think on it, Francis," his brother-in-law advised, looking uncomfortable. "We will talk about it again another time. For now, let's enjoy our dinner."

The family resumed their meal and tried to restart conversation around the table, but the happy atmosphere had disintegrated.

"Are you sure you will not try Hampshire?" Francis asked, sotto voice, once more after the dessert was served and the servants had left the room.

"No, Francis, I will not give up acting for country life yet. It grieves me to say so, but if you move to the country, you will do so alone." Hopefully no one could hear their conversation.

"I have no other choice. The bishop has dismissed me from St Paul's Parish."

His words sucked the air from her lungs. "How can that be?" Clarissa whispered hoarsely.

Francis looked around the table at the curious faces of his family. With a sigh of defeat, he recapped his meeting in the bishop's office for everyone at the table, explaining that there was no option for him to stay in London. The bishop would not approve him for any position in his bishopric.

Francis's family was clearly dismayed by this news and told him so.

Clarissa's heart melted in compassion for his predicament. "Francis, remember that I earn a good income at present to contribute to our household."

"Thank you, my dear, but I would rather support my wife myself."

Her jaws clamped together so she didn't reveal her frustration with his stubbornness about accepting her income.

"And if you were to be without roles for a while or, heaven forbid, were expecting a baby? What would happen then?"

"Would we not have savings upon which to live?" Clarissa asked.

"Yes, but they can run out."

Clarissa closed her mouth and returned her attention to her dessert.

Soon afterwards, the meal came to a solemn conclusion. Clarissa turned to Francis. There is so much we need to discuss. "I think we should leave, Francis."

He nodded his agreement, then made their excuses and wished everyone a happy evening. Clarissa thanked her hosts profusely for the dinner and apologized for spoiling the meal through her wish to remain in London.

Jane waved away her apology with a sympathetic smile. Dalton was similarly forgiving. The dinner party broke up. With concern filling their eyes, Francis's brother and sisters bid them a goodnight and headed towards Jane's sitting room.

Clarissa's face heated at the thought of being the topic of their sitting room conversation once they left.

Dalton shook Francis's hand and they proceeded without him down the grand staircase leading to the foyer.

"How can I protect you from your aunt and her scheming friends, if you are in London and I am in Hampshire?" Francis persisted as they walked downstairs. " Dora and Travener have already shown they are ruthless and relentless."

"Really, Francis, I do not know."

As Clarissa hurried down the staircase eager for enough privacy for them to talk, he kept pace with her and retrieved her cloak from the hall footman. A knock carried to them from the front door. While Francis adjusted her cloak on her shoulders in the foyer , Clarissa heard the man at the door ask to speak with the Marquis of Dalton.

She peered past the pompous butler who protected the front door, at the man who stood in the circle of light on the front step of Dalton House. A naval officer.

Again, he requested to talk with Lord Dalton. "Please give him my card. I am Captain Richard Harding."

She knew that name.

My father!