Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Though their small village was near Bath, Mercy hadn’t had many reasons to travel to the larger town. Each time felt like a treat. She enjoyed the rows of homes and buildings, built from the same creamy honey-colored stone that made up Millcombe and the Abbey, with its towering heights and magnificent architecture. The entire town was charming and lovely, and even better when dusted with clean, white snow.

Their carriage pulled up to a building at the top of a hill. Smoke puffed from the rows of chimneys topping stately townhomes lined up along the street like dignified soldiers. Colin stepped first from the carriage to help her out. She accepted his hand and took careful steps over the slick paving stones to the door, lifting her gown to keep it from brushing in the snow.

“We are meeting my mother here before traveling to the ball together,” Colin said, rapping at the knocker on the door.

Mercy’s stomach was in knots. She swallowed, but her throat was dry .

Colin glanced down at her with concern.

The door swung open and a man stood there, dressed to go out in a fine coat and starched cravat. His hairline had receded, showing a shiny scalp under thinning brown hair. “Welcome, welcome,” he said, jovially ushering them inside. This could not be the butler. “Your mother has been eager for your arrival.” He glanced at Mercy, not in the least surprised to find a woman accompanying Colin.

That was mildly concerning.

“Uncle Gooding, this is my wife, Mercy.”

Certainly not the butler then. She liked a man who had no compunction in opening his own door.

“Such a pleasure,” he said, bending over her hand.

“Mercy, this is my Uncle Gooding, my father’s cousin. This is his home.”

“Thank you for welcoming us,” she said. Colin had already prepared her to meet his bachelor uncle, since they would be sleeping in this house tonight, but she hadn’t expected the exuberance. While not a literal uncle of Colin’s, he had no other family of his own and had been a very close friend of Colin’s father, so the title was natural. He had been Colin and Honora’s uncle for their entire lives.

“Of course, of course. Call me uncle. You are family, dear.” He lifted his eyebrows to Colin. “Your mother is waiting in the drawing room.”

He led them up a long set of stairs and directly across the corridor to a drawing room, where Mrs. Birchall sat perched on a sofa. She was not alone. Across from her was Honora Chadwick, Colin’s sister. She had his same brown hair and sharp, hazel eyes. Her posture was straight and her expression altogether curious .

He stopped abruptly in the doorway. “Honora. I did not expect you.”

She stood, her greedy eyes raking over Mercy. “Surprise, brother. I had to see for myself that your letter was speaking the truth. When you told Mother you married Mercy Caldwell, I could hardly credit it.”

Colin looked at his mother, who was also rising from her seat. “You received my letter?”

“Of course. Why do you think we made an immediate venture to Bath? I will never forgive you for not waiting to have me at the wedding,” she said, though her smile belied any ill feelings she had feigned in her words. She crossed the room and embraced her son, then turned to look at Mercy. “You have grown into a lovely young woman, Miss Caldwell.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she said, dipping in a curtsy.

“Mrs. Birchall,” Colin corrected.

“Of course. It will take some growing used to,” Mrs. Birchall said.

Mercy wasn’t offended. Ought she to be? It seemed an innocent mistake.

Honora hugged her brother before pulling Mercy into an embrace. “It has been much too long.”

“Indeed. You are settled in Devonshire, are you not?”

“We are. The travel was not overly difficult, though I left the children at home with Mr. Chadwick. They do not have the constitutions for long carriage rides.”

“Come, sit,” Uncle Gooding said. “Have you eaten? I will send for something to nourish you.”

“We’ve eaten,” Colin told him. Cook had packed them a basket for the carriage.

“Tell us about your family,” Mrs. Birchall said. “I have not heard much news from Millcombe in recent years. It is near impossible to glean anything from Colin’s letters.”

It was on the tip of Mercy’s tongue to ask why they did not return to Millcombe for a visit themselves, but she refrained. If Honora’s children had difficulty traveling, it made far more sense for Colin to travel to them. What excuse did his mother have for not returning to her son’s house, to the place she had raised her family?

“It is much the same,” Colin said. “Not much changes in Millcombe.”

Mercy waited for him to tell his family of the repairs he was making to the estate, but he didn’t. They spoke of various families in the village and Mercy told Honora of her sisters’ husbands and children and where each of them had settled.

By the time they needed to leave for the ball, it occurred to Mercy that no one had asked about her relationship with Colin. Not about how they’d decided to get married or when they had known they loved one another. Was it so very obvious that theirs wasn’t a love match?

“We should play bullet pudding tonight,” Honora said when they climbed into the carriage to go to the ball. Mercy assumed the hills and the snow had called for it, since she knew most people did not bother keeping carriages in Bath.

“That is a children’s game,” Colin said drily.

“It is a great deal of fun, and we have not done it since we were children.” Honora’s bright eyes swung to Mercy. “I think it would be a lark.”

“You are a mother now,” Colin said. “You shouldn’t be saying lark.”

“Oh, pish.” Honora waved off his concerns. “Mercy will play it with me, I wager. ”

It was too dark to clearly see, but Mercy imagined Colin rolling his eyes, based on the grumbling breath he released.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a large building. Mercy knew it to be the assembly hall, though she’d only attended the assemblies here once before, years ago.

When the family walked on, Colin took her by the hand and pulled slightly, causing a rush of warmth to shoot up her arm. His darkened, shadowed eyes bore down into hers. “I do not understand the purpose of this visit, except that they already knew about you and clearly wish to see us together. I am sorry for any undue stress they are causing.”

Mercy gently squeezed his fingers. “They are perfectly lovely, Colin,” she said honestly. “Now, please tell me you are not averse to dancing.”

He looked at her with some surprise before a soft smile curved his mouth, allowing his dimple to make a short appearance. “For you, Mercy, I will dance.”

Colin regretted his promise to dance almost immediately when they were ushered into the larger of the assembly halls and the instruments began tuning for a reel. But the light in Mercy’s eyes and her eager nature were beautiful, and he would not be the reason for dimming them once again. Besides, he had a strange inclination that he would very much enjoy dancing with his wife.

He turned to her. “Will you dance with me?”

“I would love to.”

He took her hand and they left behind his family to join the set forming in the center of the floor. He stood across from her, waiting for the music to begin in earnest .

She wore a deep burgundy gown with black embroidery that trailed up the skirt and framed her neckline. Candlelight from the chandelier above glowed warmly over her face.

“Your sister has not changed at all,” Mercy said, her green eyes trailing him.

“You mustn’t feel obligated to partake of any of her larks.”

Mercy smiled, and the full force of it knocked into him. “I cannot recall the last time I played bullet pudding. It is nearly Christmas, after all.”

Colin fought a smile. “I will find another way to entertain you so I’m not forced into that.”

“It sounds to me like you must have lost before, Mr. Birchall, and will do anything to avoid covering your face in flour again.”

His stomach gave a weird leap. The music began and they were forced to dance, precluding all opportunity for conversation. He did not suppress his grin as he passed, which she undoubtedly interpreted accurately to mean she was correct, because the last thing he heard when she was dancing the other direction was the jovial sound of belly-deep laughter.

She was correct. He often lost, forced to dig around the flour with his face to find the coin, and he despised the mess it made of both his clothing and the room. It was a ridiculous game and unnecessarily wasteful—to say nothing for the state of his clothing afterward.

The remainder of the night was not quite as enjoyable. Once their dance was finished, Colin gave Mercy his arm and directed her to the wall where his mother, sister, and uncle were all standing. While he enjoyed watching his family speak to—and accept—his choice in bride, he could not shake the sense that he’d much rather be dancing with her than standing here. But one dance with his wife was enough. Two? What would people think?

Another hour passed in polite conversation, too much warm negus, and dance after dance where Mercy did not leave his side. His sister and mother had left them at the beginning of this set to greet some old friends, but Colin had remained tucked against the wall beside his wife.

The pale green wall, ornamented with white plasterwork, caught his eye, and he admired the way the columns on the far end divided the room, separating the area for the musicians. Ought he to put columns in Winterbourne? They would only add to the grandeur of his drawing room.

“Are you terribly bored?” Mercy asked quietly, her shoulder pressing lightly into his side.

His stomach constricted from the contact. “No, merely admiring the architecture in the room. What do you think of columns?”

She laughed. Then she looked up at him and sobered. “You are in earnest?” She glanced across the room, studying the columns there. “They certainly add grandeur to the room.”

His thoughts precisely.

“But I do not find them a necessary expense,” she continued. “If anything, they seem pretentious.”

Ah. Not his thoughts at all. He nodded, looking around the room again. He agreed they weren’t necessary, but now that he had Lady Edith’s fortune coming, he could afford to add embellishments to the house .

He put the thought aside.

“Colin, do you remember Miss Dearden?” Mother asked, approaching them with the woman at her side.

His cheeks were sore from forcing a smile all evening, and now they strained. “Yes, of course. Good evening, Miss Dearden. Allow me to introduce my wife, Mrs. Mercy Birchall.”

Miss Dearden’s eyes snapped to Mother before landing on Mercy again. She provided a polite curtsy. “It was lovely to see you,” she said, then turned and left.

Mother’s gaze followed the woman for a minute before facing him. “I tried to warn her, but she insisted on coming to see you anyway.”

“Warn her?” Mercy asked.

“She had her eye on Colin for many years,” Mrs. Birchall said.

Mercy looked at him, then her gaze dropped to the floor.

He wasn’t sure why, but the entire interaction made his stomach roll. “I think it’s time to leave.”

Mother held his gaze. “I will find Uncle Gooding and send for the carriage.”

Mercy was quiet the entire time they waited, retrieved their wraps, and drove back to Uncle Gooding’s house. When they arrived, Uncle Gooding’s housekeeper showed them upstairs to their room and Colin followed Mercy inside. He closed the door and waited.

Mercy looked at him, her copper hair shimmering in the light from the fireplace. Her eyes flicked to the bed and back to him.

Warmth flooded his body from his chest down to his toes. The four poster bed was narrow, swathed in heavy blankets and lacking any curtains or ornamentation. He stood motionless, waiting to hear what her reservations were. Clearly she had them.

But she remained silent. The bed was small, yet the idea of sharing it did not bother him. He had tried to respect Mercy and the plan to give them time before being intimate, simply because their engagement had been so short and the product of an arrangement. He imagined she needed time to feel comfortable with him. He didn’t want her to think he had changed his mind already.

“I do not think my uncle has any more bedchambers,” he said softly, hoping they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone passing. She needed to know he hadn’t orchestrated this. After the way he had danced with her, he didn’t want her to have the wrong idea about his feelings. “If I knew Honora had intended to come with my mother and take the other bedchamber, I would have made arrangements for us to stay at an inn.”

“It is no trouble, Colin.” By the way she looked at him, he knew it wasn’t ideal.

“All the same. I will leave you to prepare for bed and return in a half-hour. Will that provide you enough privacy?”

“It isn’t necessary?—”

“I wanted to speak to my uncle,” he said, hoping to put her at ease. “He recently purchased a new set of horses and I’d like to hear about them.”

She nodded once, her mouth pressed into a line.

Colin turned away before hesitating. They hadn’t brought the new lady’s maid with them. His eyes trailed the length of her gown, the way it hugged her just right. It didn’t appear to be a simple confection. “Are you in need of assistance with your gown? ”

She smiled. “No, not this one. I thank you for the consideration of asking.”

He nodded briefly before leaving the room, feeling simultaneously disappointed and excited.