Aubrey
Aubrey was torn between enjoying Mrs. Wooten’s company and feeling guilty over the lie they’d perpetuated. In the end, she didn’t really have to worry one way or the other as it took all her concentration to keep up with the woman’s ongoing conversation… About the weather, the festival they must all attend together that evening, and how she was certain her jam would win the canning contest. She’d not won in previous years because Mr. Frost, the deciding judge, had not been immune to Mrs. Baxter, the hussy. The jackanapes wouldn’t be a problem this year, she’d explained with a wink, as he’d passed over the winter. “Died in his sleep and it was about time. Ninety years on God’s earth is more than enough for any single person, especially one who cheats and lies.”
“Mrs. Wooten, ma’am?” Mr. Bateman peeked into the kitchen. “Your husband is taking our driver into the village. He said you would show me the horse cart and that I could drive you two ladies in for the festival and meet him there?” Her ‘husband’ stood in the doorway holding Aubrey’s valise and his own pack looking dusty and hot and… yes, as Mrs. Wooten had noted… incredibly handsome.
“Where are my manners? Of course, come in Mr. Bateman. Right this way, both of you. I haven’t even given your poor wife a chance to clean up yet, I’ve been talking her ear off over tea.” She paused. “Do you care for some tea, Mr. Bateman?” When she went to turn back to the stove, he halted her.
“Later perhaps.”
And then she laughed at herself and led them up a small staircase and into a room that was also the attic. “I wish we had a grand chamber, to put you both up, but you being newlyweds, I don’t imagine it matters much to either of you.” She winked. “I’ll bring up some water but if you need more you can always collect some from out back. You can use this pitcher and wash bowl. Here’s a few towels and you do let me know if you need another quilt. It may say April on the calendar, but it still feels like winter around here…”
Mr. Bateman grinned at Aubrey and she couldn’t help but grin back. It was a wonder Mrs. Wooten got a breath in between sentences. Aubrey had never known a person to talk so much, not even Winifred, and that was saying a lot.
After clucking at herself and pulling open the curtains at one end of the room, she remembered she needed to finish packing up her jam and excused herself. “Come down when you’re ready. Of Course, Mr. Bateman, if you’d like that tea, you just holler out for me and I’ll put the water back on for you.”
And then she was gone.
Mr. Bateman sat Aubrey’s valise on an empty chair and then lowered his own pack onto the floor. “Never let it be said that the Wootens of Joseph’s Well are not hospitable people.” He brushed his hands together, his dimple appearing as he grinned.
“What are we going to do?” Aubrey bit her lip after a quick glance at the bed. She realized they’d slept beside one another on the ground two nights before and yet the sight of only one bed, in one room, and his belongings right next to hers… “What if they find out? Mr. Daniels—”
“Won’t say a word.” He answered her question.
Aubrey walked over to the bed and smoothed the counterpane. “I understand why. It wouldn’t look good at all if they knew the truth. I can’t imagine what Mrs. Wooten would think if she knew that I was traveling alone with a single gentleman. Even if I am a wid—”
“Here’s that water for you!” Mrs. Wooten announced her presence at the bottom of the stairs.
Mr. Bateman descended so that she wouldn’t have to carry it all the way up while Aubrey tried to make sense of the situation she’d unwittingly placed herself into.
If anyone in London were to hear of her traveling circumstances, then her dream of hosting readings and salons might be ruined before she even arrived there. Gossip traveled, it seemed, quicker than any pigeon ever could. Even in Rockford Beach, they’d occasionally gotten wind of the most hair-raising scandals that took place in London.
She listened as the door at the bottom of the stairs closed and Mr. Bateman returned.
“It’ll be fine,Princesse.”He placed the pitcher near the wash basin and turned back to face her. “We will pretend, eh? For what remains of today and all of tomorrow. And despite what I told you earlier, you are perfectly safe with me. You trust me,non?”
Of course, she trusted him, it was herself she doubted. From the very moment she first caught sight of this man she’d acted out of character.
“Pretend to be man and wife?” She stared up at him, imagining all the things that such playacting might entail.
It shouldn’t entail much except for the fact that she’d gone and announced that they were newlyweds.
“It will not be so very difficult.” He tilted his head in question. “To pretend you are my wife.” A gravelly tone caught at his voice.
It wouldn’t be difficult at all. No, unfortunately, she’d imagined it too many times already.
Furthermore, what other options did they have? Sleeping outside again? “Will it rain, do you think? On this festival we are to attend?” She turned away, knowing her good mood sounded false.
He didn’t answer right off and she wondered if he wasn’t weighing in on her disposition. “I think it will hold off,” he finally answered. “I’ll take Mrs. Wooten up on her offer of tea, while you freshen up.” She didn’t turn around again until she’d heard him descend all of the stairs.
She was just brushing out her gown when Mrs. Wooten joined her once again. “That man of yours is quite handy, I must admit. He was taking tea but when he noticed my woodpile was low insisted on bringing more in from the back. And while he was busy, I got to thinking. If you’ve been on the road for days now, I imagine you’ve worn that same frock a time or two.”
She crossed to the end of the room, opened a trunk, and after removing some white linen cloths, drew out the loveliest gown. It was spruce colored, with a cloudy lace overlay and had embroidery around the hem and bodice. “It’s not brand new, but I thought you might wish to wear something your husband hasn’t seen you in yet. The festival isn’t just for children, mind you. There’s always an announcement or two right after. I have the most romantic memories of it myself, when Bart and I were young.” She blushed and then shook her head. “There will be tasting booths and dancing and vendors, and I was thinking that since you were newlyweds and all, you’d want to look special for your man.” She brushed at the material and Aubrey couldn’t keep the burst of enchantment that jumped inside of her at the thought of wearing such a whimsical dress.
“I love it.” She smiled. “Are you sure it’s no trouble? I would feel horrid if it became soiled.”
“Not at all. It will be my pleasure to see someone pretty and young like yourself make use of it. Let’s use this lavender to freshen it up a bit…”
Mrs. Wooten spent the next fifteen minutes or so assisting Aubrey into the deliciously feminine gown. It was lovely, but it also seemed perfect for a spring festival. Aubrey gazed down and almost felt like the girl she’d been before marrying Harrison Bloomington.
