Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Mercy smoothed the blue silk gown down her legs, arranging the overdress until it lined up where it was meant to. Her fingers trembled while she worked the silk-covered buttons until halfway up her back, where she could no longer reach. Within a few hours, she would be married. Married to Colin Birchall. It had felt like a whirlwind, so quickly had the weeks passed since the day his carriage had splashed her and he’d proposed. It was now December. They were only a few weeks away from Christmas and, by the end of the day, Mercy would be a married woman.

She picked up the riddle she’d written for him last night. They had taken to passing each other riddles occasionally since the night he had come to dine at her house, and she thought he might appreciate the one that came to her mind yesterday.

My hands are ever-moving, but I cannot clap. I have a face, but I cannot speak. I hang at the ready. What am I?

Mercy folded the strip of paper and put it in her pocket.

Mama knocked on the door before pushing it open and peeking inside. Her smile was bright, her cheeks rosy, likely from sitting before the fire in her room.

Mercy turned her back to the door. “Will you help me with these buttons?”

“Of course, darling.” Mama closed the door behind her and hurried over, making quick work of the silk buttons. “Are you nervous? Do you feel prepared?”

Her stomach balled with tension, but she wasn’t frightened, and she felt confident in her choice. She’d dreamed of this day with this man for so long, it hardly felt real. “Not nervous, though I’m not certain I’m prepared, either.”

Mama’s hands paused. “It is not too late to change your mind, Mercy. You would have a home with us.”

“I am not changing my mind,” she said through her teeth. “You sound like Grace.”

“Grace is in love,” Mama said. “She worries for you.”

The implication that they did not believe Mercy to be in love stung. Had she not told them she liked Colin? Must she have been explicit? The comparisons to her sisters never seemed to cease, and today, of all days, she wanted to feel like she was making the right decision and had support in it, not censure and concern.

“Colin Birchall is a good man,” she said, an edge of defense to her tone.

“Of course he is.” Mama fastened the final button and pressed her hands to Mercy’s back.

She closed her eyes. “And I love him.”

Mama’s hands went still. She removed them, stepping around the gown to face Mercy. “If you say so, then I am happy for you.”

Why did that sound forced? Mercy took a step away, forcing a smile. “I do say so, Mama. ”

“Shall we leave now? Papa is already at the church with Grace.”

Her wedding day and her sister could not wait for her so they might walk over together. Mercy bit back the bile climbing her throat and inhaled. She was finally getting everything she wanted—a husband, a house of her own to manage, freedom. Today would be a good day. She would make it so.

Despite the fact that Mercy’s wedding was bookended by two congregation-wide agitations, the ceremony itself was lovely. It had been slightly postponed when a grey striped cat managed to sneak into the church and spent nearly a quarter of an hour hissing at the pulpit until little Fanny Watkins was able to lure it outside. Then, after the ceremony had been completed, Mr. Hoopes partook of a coughing fit so long and loud he was asked to leave by someone sitting on his pew. He and his wife did so, trailing coughs and cross frowns the entire way.

Mama did not look pleased. “She will certainly take great offense to that.”

Mercy sat while her father finished the service, grateful that for the first time in much too long, she would not be called upon to deliver the treats Mama would make to soothe Mrs. Hoopes’s hurt feelings.

She turned her head just enough to see her new husband, and a smile curved over her lips.

He glanced down, his hazel eyes tracking over her face. They locked on hers.

Husband .

A shiver ran over her arms.

Colin’s eyebrow lifted in a silent question.

Mercy smiled softly and looked at where her father stood at the head of the church.

“Is there any chance you might be persuaded to skip the wedding breakfast?” Colin asked.

“The one my parents have put together in our honor?”

“That very one,” Colin whispered. “I have a blazing fire and a hot pot of tea at home waiting for us.”

Us .

Mercy scooted just a little closer. “You underestimate my appreciation for good ginger biscuits. I am afraid you shall have to do better than that if you want me to skip the breakfast I’ve been looking forward to for years.”

He looked at her with some surprise. “My cook can make ginger biscuits.”

“But does she have them ready to eat now?”

“No.” An uncertain smile played on his lips. “I have a feeling she will try to impress you with dinner this evening. You will not believe the lengths my servants have gone to in order to welcome you to our crumbling estate.”

“Crumbling?” She sat back. She knew it was not in the best order, had seen the evidence of that with her own eyes, but she had hoped that was a grave exaggeration. Fishing in her pocket, she pulled out the riddle and pinched the creases of the folded paper. Mercy reached for Colin’s hand, put the paper in his palm, and closed his fingers again. “This is to keep you busy during the breakfast when you find it to be a dead bore.”

Interest flashed in his eyes. “Mercy Birchall, have you written me a love note?”

Her stomach swooped at the use of her new surname. She was no longer Mercy Caldwell, spinster daughter of the vicar and reliable old maid. She was a wife, and she glowed. “It’s a riddle.”

“Not about love, then?” he asked.

The man was teasing her.

“I will not give you any hints.”

The congregation began to move around her, and Mercy glanced up to see that it was time to leave. She stood. Colin slipped the paper into his waistcoat pocket and offered his arm.

Mercy walked out at Colin’s side to a light dusting of snow everywhere. It looked like Christmas.

Her heart filled with warmth as they started walking toward their wedding breakfast at the vicarage. This was a lovely beginning.

By the time Mercy and Colin had left their wedding breakfast, they were fatigued from conversations and smiling. The ride to Winterbourne from the vicarage was slow and silent, due to the fresh powdery snow.

They pulled in front of the estate. Colin stepped out of the carriage first and turned around to help her down. When she put her hand into his, her heart started beating wildly.

He led her into the house. “Welcome to Winterbourne, Mrs. Birchall.”

A wave of warmth spread through her. So far, marriage was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Mr. Flint stood at the door, ready to take their coats. Colin helped Mercy from her pelisse before slipping out of his greatcoat .

“It has been quite an eventful day,” Colin said. “Can I show you to your chamber?”

“That would be wonderful.”

He gestured to the staircase, and they walked up side by side. When they reached the door he had shown her the other day, Colin continued walking. He passed her bedroom and opened the door across the corridor, then waited beside it. Had he not told her that was the guest room? The one his mother stayed in when she visited?

Colin shifted. “I thought this chamber might be more to your liking. It is larger and more comfortably appointed.” He stepped back, gesturing to the large four-poster bed in the center of the mid-sized room. The coverlet was a pale blue that matched the drapes framing the tall window.

Mercy stepped inside, her gaze trailing the walls. It was very lovely, and certainly much larger than the initial room he showed her, but it hardly lent itself to being a wife’s room. There was only one door, from what she could tell. Colin would be forced to cross the corridor if he wanted to visit her.

“Were you unable to finish the floor?”

“It is nearly finished, but I thought…” He paused, looking at her. “You are unhappy with this room?”

“No, of course not. It is beautiful.” She glanced back to the corridor. Confused, not unhappy. “Your room will be?”

“Just across the corridor.”

“And I will sleep here.”

Colin rubbed his chin. He looked at her, his gaze sticking as though he realized the nature of her confusion. “I gave it some thought, and I assumed this would be more comfortable for you. For now, at least.”

She wasn’t entirely certain she understood his meaning. Her cheeks bloomed with heat, her fingers trembling. “Are you not interested in starting a family?”

Colin’s neck turned red. “Last month, I considered you a childhood playmate and the daughter of our vicar. I would have called you a friend, Mercy, had I believed I have any friends. It is with that in mind that I have decided not to apply any pressure to our marriage so soon.”

Mercy was at a loss. She wasn’t offended that he had no intention of sharing a room with her yet—indeed, it was something of a minor relief. But her expectation had been set and her nerves were on high alert accordingly, so this unexpected change forced her to shift her thinking.

This would be good. She wouldn’t be required to act intimately until they knew one another better. Mercy’s viewpoint could pivot. She was good at moving with the flow of life’s unpredictability.

“There is also the matter of the house,” he said, as if he needed more reason. “It is a danger in itself. We ought to wait to add children to the estate until it is safe for them to run about the place.”

She blinked. That was reasonable, she supposed.

Colin cleared his throat. “I will leave you to get settled. I must write to my mother and Lady Edith’s solicitor and inform them of my change in status.” His smile flickered before disappearing. “Dinner will be served at six.”

Mercy stood at the foot of her new bed and stared at her new husband. “What may I do?”

“Anything you’d like.” He watched her in a distracted way, his eyes never settling on one thing for long. It swept the length of her gown before rising to her face. “Avoid the other rooms on this floor and be careful if you choose to walk in the garden. There is not much of a garden now, so it is not a desirable way for you to pass the time, perhaps.”

“Colin, I would like to help. Is there anything I can do?”

“Help?” His hazel eyes were glued to her. “You are the mistress of Winterbourne. You may sew, embroider, or read, if you’d like. We’ve a small library, and the books perhaps need dusting, but if you would like to read, I can send someone to start cleaning them straight away.”

Sew? Read? She was used to passing her time in service to her parents and the parish, in tasks to the butcher or chandler. Mercy was not made for a frivolous life. Surely Colin had known when he proposed to her that she was not the idle, genteel lady he was framing her to be at present.

But this was not the moment to argue. “Thank you.”

He nodded, looking once more from her to the corridor, then let himself from the room, closing the door. Mercy stepped into the center of the bedchamber, turning in a slow circle. For all the time she’d spent thinking about this marriage over the previous three weeks, preparing to move from the vicarage and change her entire life, she had not considered how it would feel to be married, and what she would do following the ceremony. If Colin wanted to provide them time to better know one another in their marriage before beginning a family, she could respect that, and indeed, it provided her a measure of relief. But if he could not make her a mother, then he ought to at least allow her to take on some responsibility in the house.

Mercy ran her fingers over her eyes and breathed out. This was only their first day. Perhaps he was allowing her a short respite. She had thought she would receive a tour of the house or formally meet the servants, at the very least.

She didn’t need Colin for those things. Mercy could change from her gown into a more practical dress and give herself a tour of the house.

It took ten minutes to discover that the gown her mother had made for her wedding would not be coming off without assistance. She had half of the buttons unfastened, her work dress lying on the bed, and no way to remove the silk confection.

She should have known this would be the case when she’d needed assistance to put it on.

Shaking out her hands, Mercy glanced about the room until her gaze landed on the rope pull. She tugged on it and turned to face the door, leaving her back to the window.

A half-hour later, three more tugs, and no response, Mercy started fastening up the buttons again. It seemed she would need to hunt for assistance on her own.

She opened the door and nearly ran directly into Colin. “Oh, forgive me.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” He gave her a brief smile and started walking away again.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“I need help.”

He turned back, his eyebrows drawn. “What is it?”

“My gown. The buttons are out of reach. Is it possible?—”

“I can help you.” His gaze darted around her face, as though desperately trying to read her feelings on the suggestion.

“Oh.” She had not expected that. She had imagined he would send for a maid. It was…not uncomfortable , exactly. They were married, after all. “That would be kind.”

Mercy walked into the room and turned her back to Colin .

He stood behind her, the warmth from his body like pressure against her lungs. She heard his intake of breath, felt the presence of his hands hovering at her back. “Perhaps I ought to fetch someone.” He moved to the bell pull and gave it a tug.

Mercy released her held breath. “I attempted that very thing with no reply.”

“It may be broken.” He returned to her side and let out a soft breath. A chill swept over her skin as he started working his way down the line of silk covered buttons.

“Have you solved the riddle?” she asked, desperate for a distraction. She could feel the pressure of his fingers and it was doing strange things to her stomach.

“Not quite, but I feel like I am close.” His fingers brushed her back, his voice low and distracted.

Reaching behind her, she pointed to where she could touch the buttons. “You only need to go this far.”

Colin cleared his throat. In a few short moments, it was done. Her dress flopped open at her shoulder blade, but her shift covered her skin. Despite the modesty, she felt entirely exposed.

He stepped back. “I will see to it your bell is fixed straight away.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to turn around. Her cheeks blazed, and she was certain her back was just as vibrant.

Colin walked from the room, and Mercy dropped her face into her hands, smothering a groan. All those years ago, when she had sat in the church pew and dreamed of handsome Colin Birchall falling for her, never had she imagined this would be her fate.

For better or for worse, this was her life now.