She took the seat opposite him and sipped more from her glass. While the breeze coming off the bay was refreshing, she didn't feel it. She reached for a fan and began to wave it in front of herself as she continued to contemplate the gravity of what Mr. Watkins was saying. "It's obvious the man is attracted to you, lass," her husband said softly. "It wouldn't take much to convince him to have a brief affair."
How well she knew this! "Well, it would be brief, as he sails home on Monday," she replied.
"I shall bring Victor and Sally with me to the farm," he said quietly, staring out onto the street. "Sally has told me she would like to see her grandchildren. If I bring them with me, it will leave you alone here until they return," she tried to cut him off, but he lifted his hand silencing her. "I can send them back on the Tuesday train. Or you can come up to the farm on the Wednesday train." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I plan on staying in the mountains until this heat breaks."
She shot out of her chair and began to worry a tiny circle in the room. "I'm afraid if the neighbors suspect I'm here alone they will talk. You know they will! I don't want them thinking I'm cuckolding you. And Constable Potts—
"Quit putting up barriers to this gift that has just dropped into your hands," her husband insisted. "I know how much you've wanted this. I've heard you weep at night. This is the best, most perfect option you have. I'm trying to help you so you are not alone later." He reached for the newspaper that rested neatly on the table between them. "And Potts will not be an issue. He is being called to Baltimore as of tonight."
"Thank God," Mary-Michael whispered before she offered up a quick prayer of thanks that Mr. Watkins and General Smith were old friends.
"In fact, according to Frank Baxter, we can press charges of harassment on him if you'd like."
She nodded. "Thank you, sir. I would like to think on that."
"You don't need anyone interfering with your plans for the weekend. Not the servants, and especially not Potts and his deputies." He got a little twinkle in his eye as he thought of another far-distant time, likely with his Abigail. "Believe me when I say, it would be far easier for you if no one was around." He leaned back into his high back wing chair, and for the first time, Mary-Michael realized how much more fragile her friend and mentor appeared. He'd physically changed so much in the past year. "But, however you decide, my dear. This could well be the answer to your prayers."
The fan in her hand stilled as deafening silence roared in her ears, his words reverberating in her heart. The air in the small office grew warmer by the second, and she found it difficult to breathe. Standing, she moved to another window and fanned herself furiously. "Why are you doing this for me? Really?" Her voice cracked as she asked it. "This is more than just giving me an opportunity to be a mother."
"I see that you are attracted to him as well," he stated. "It's obvious. And please sit down before I call Sally to come with smelling salts."
Oh, God, if he could see it how many others could? Could Andrew, Robert or William? She spent most of her time in the close confines of the upstairs offices at the shipyard with the three of them. And during the past few days, she and the captain had been working long hours in the privacy of her husband's office, with two of those men just outside the door. A sudden panic welled up inside. She'd tried so hard to keep her emotions for the captain contained within her own heart. Unsuccessfully, apparently, for Mr. Watkins' expression took on a little alarm.
Mary-Michael lowered herself onto the damask covered settee, and stared into her husband's wrinkled and weathered face. She couldn't tell him that she thought about their new client even when they weren't working together. Most especially, she could not tell him that she thought of this other man at night, when she lay alone in her bed. To do so would hurt him, the one honest and good man in her life. The one who had given her so much. On her honor, she would never intentionally hurt him. Except he
wanted
her to have this. He wanted her to have an opportunity at the very least to conceive a child.
So she would never have to suffer the pain of having her child taken from her arms and given to another. He was doing this for
her
.
"That man is attracted to you and if I am not mistaken, you are attracted to him as well," Mr. Watkins said again.
Shame rushed through her yet again. That familiar knot grew in her throat, the one that gave way when her flood of tears would begin. But tonight she would not cry. "Mr. Watkins, you are mistaken, sir. He feels no such emotion for me. If he feels anything at all toward me it's frustration because I keep having to prompt him to stay on task."
"You just proved my point, dear."
She stared at her husband, this generous man who had done what no one could understand in order to help two children to whom he owed nothing. He gave her brother the education he needed to pursue his calling of the priesthood. And he gave her the opportunity to learn everything she could from him about building ships and running a shipyard, giving her an unconventional education for a woman in an unconventional profession.
As outlandish as it sounded, her husband was pushing her into the arms of another, so she could have what every woman wants in her deepest, most basic part of her soul. A child.
A single tear escaped her eye, and she swiped it away.
"He looks at you the way I used to look at my Abigail all those many years ago." Her husband sighed. "I married you to protect you from the gossips, while you gained the education and training you could never get as an unmarried woman. What I didn't consider at the time was the idea that you might one day want a real marriage with children of your own."
"I have a real marriage," she countered. "To you."
"Oh, dear child, you have no idea what a real marriage is." His voice became filled with painful remorse. "When we married, I knew that we would never share a bed, for I was already beyond having that ability. But you made me laugh again and impressed me with your superior intelligence. You reminded me of Abigail in that. Like her, you challenged me to think differently when it came to a girl's ability to learn the subjects previously taught only to young men. Your mind is such a sponge, my dear girl." He sipped from his glass and took a moment to gather more of his thoughts, so Mary-Michael just waited for him to say what he felt he needed to say. "With you, I saw an opportunity to avenge my Abigail to those who denied her an education in the sciences. She wanted more than to just teach. She wanted to study the sciences, and felt all women could be much more than wives." Mary-Michael could tell he struggled to control his emotions. "But, in the end, she died doing what most women do without issue—bearing a child."
Mary-Michael gave up holding back her own tears when she saw Mr. Watkins wipe his across his face. She wanted to run upstairs and cry in the privacy of her room, but right at that moment she felt it more important to listen to Mr. Watkins than to wallow in self-pity.
"Marrying you opened doors that would not have been opened to you had I adopted you and George. With no wife, adopting you would have those with sordid minds looking at you askance. Society would never have allowed you to dress as you do and work as you do, while being a daughter of a wealthy businessman. You would be encouraged to partake of the distractions of society, and... if those highfalutin' society hens had judged you and found you lacking it could have ruined your chances to find a good man for a husband.
"No, I do believe I did the right thing in marrying you. Even knowing that I didn't have much longer left. Doing so gave you the chance to learn all you wanted and needed to know to run the shipyard. And soon, you will be a wealthy widow, with the ability to do whatever your heart desires and not be scorned for doing so."
"I will never give you a reason to second guess your decision, Mr. Watkins, for I have cherished our time together. And remember, I agreed to your marriage proposal knowing full well that I could either learn a great deal, or nothing at all if you had died before teaching me." Mary-Michael collected herself and sipped from her glass. She pasted on a smile. "However would I have discovered—and disputed—the works of Colonel Beaufoy and his collaborators if not for you."
"Do you understand that what we have is not even a valid marriage in the eyes of the church—or the law—because it was never consummated?" Her surprise obviously showed, because he continued. "That's right, it's invalid. Only two people know it—Gideon and Frank. One is my priest, the other is my attorney. And neither one can tell a soul, for similar reasons."
Mary-Michael felt guilty that she had confided in her girlfriends, but didn't have the heart to tell him. So she said, "No sir, I'd say more than two know. I believe neither Sally nor Victor is slow-witted. They know what happens in this house."
Her husband chuckled. "You're likely right. Either way, having seen how our young client looks at you, I think this is an opportunity you should not pass up."
She shook her head. "But I can't—"
"Yes, you can! Think on this, Mrs. Watkins," her husband began, "While I live, any child you give birth to will be my heir. He will have my name and for as long as I live, I will love and protect him as my own."
Mary-Michael laughed through her tears. It was a maniacal sound almost, and she almost frightened Mr. Watkins. Until she said, "No... you don't understand... I don't know
what
to do."
Now the old man laughed, as he pulled the kerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. "Oh, my naive little wife. Let the captain lead. He impresses me as one who knows his way around a woman's boudoir."
"You make it sound sordid and... and... cheap" She blew her nose in the same unladylike manner which always frustrated Sister Agnes. Then she blurt out the thing she feared most. "He will know that I haven't... And I think perhaps I should speak with Becky. Ask her for pointers."
Her husband laughed again. "Go ahead and speak with Becky. Perhaps guidance from a woman your own age might be what you need."
Captain Gualtiero was coming for dinner in a few hours. What would she wear? What would she say? And did it even matter after the conversation they'd had the day before? They both knew it was just a matter of time until she was in the captain's bed. Mary-Michael hoped he was as eager for this as she. From the tension between them she presumed he was.
"Yes," she mumbled. "I must talk to Becky." She rose from her seat and began to pace, wondering if she was making the right decision. No. The decision was made. She wanted this with the captain. And knew, like she knew nothing else in her life, that he might know what to do, but how would she hide the fact that she'd never slept with her husband? "Mr. Watkins, I believe I will pay my friend a visit, if you don't mind. I hope I can get a few minutes alone with her before she starts preparing for her dinner customers."
Twenty minutes later Mary-Michael pushed open the door to the kitchen at Becky's tavern, and found her friend standing in front of the long wooden table cutting vegetables, while two other women cleaned feathers from several chicken carcasses near the wash basin.
Becky smiled at her, then wiped her brow with her sleeve. "Mary, what brings you here during the work day?" Becky smiled for only a moment, but upon seeing Mary-Michael's knotted brow, set the knife down, and pushed back the hair from her face.
Mary-Michael worried the inside of her cheek, deciding to get straight to the point because there was no turning back now. "I am in need of some—" Mary-Michael looked toward the women cleaning the birds, and leaned closer to Becky, and whispered, "—some advice of an intimate nature."
Her friend rubbed the expanding belly beneath her apron. "I'll be back in a few minutes, I'm going up front to have a drink." The other women nodded and she and Becky went back through the door to the dining room, but not before pouring two mugs of watered-down ale.
"Does this have to do with that handsome captain you were with earlier?" Becky's ocean blue eyes narrowed, but not until Mary-Michael gave her slight nod did she turn up the corners of her lips and crinkle her eyes. This made Mary-Michael relax somewhat, knowing she'd made the right decision about confiding in her.
While Melody, now Sister Elizabeth, and her twin Cadence would never understand Mary-Michael's predicament and could never help her, their friend Becky could.
"It does, but it isn't what you think." Mary-Michael looked around the empty dining room to be certain there were no ears to hear her. Still she whispered. "Do you remember the idea Mr. Watkins had to... remedy my situation?" Mary-Michael couldn't even talk about it with her friend without turning ten shades of red. "This is so awkward... Becky, please tell me you remember." She watched as Becky's blue eyes widened to the size of saucers. "I see you do." Mary-Michael stared at the mug in her hand. Wanting to take a drink, but needing to get this out of her first. "I'm going through with it, and I need your help."
"You are?" Becky whispered through the wide-eyed, slack-jawed amazement.
"Yes. And it requires your promise to never speak of it to anyone, because it would harm Mr. Watkins horribly should anyone else find out. I would spare him any embarrassment."
"I have never broken a trust yet, have I?"
"You have not." Mary-Michael took a swig and began to cough at the stoutness of the brew. "I thought this was watered down."
"When you said advice of an intimate nature, I thought we needed the best my husband serves."
She met her dearest friend's warm gaze and nodded before raising her mug to take a sip. "You know me like no other person in this world. Which is why you are the only one I can confide in. You see... ah... Becky, I... um... need your help."
"What kind of help?" Her friend looked confused. "A room? An alibi? You can have both," she whispered. "Anything you need to help you..."