Her Unsuitable Match by Sally Britton

Nineteen

Pippa had hesitated too long to follow after her husband. By the time she opened the door to the hall, he was gone. She heard the front door of the house snap shut. She hadn’t had the chance to tell him he was wrong—that she didn’t regret marrying him.

She went to bed but did not sleep for hours and hours. What stupidity had compelled her to offer him words too tepid to provide true comfort? She hadn’t offered him her compassion or understanding. Because she hadn’t spoken from her heart—but from her guilt. From a complete lack of understanding what he needed.

Words offered without her heart’s intent behind them had wounded her husband. She had done everything wrong. What made matters worse was her hope that he would return proved ill-founded. When she finally fell asleep, the other half of the bed remained empty.

Pippa overslept, not waking until late morning. She shifted in her bed, rolled over, and stared at the empty pillow next to her own. It remained untouched. Slipping from beneath the covers, Pippa went straight to the bellpull to summon her maid.

When her maid appeared, nearly a quarter of an hour later, she curtsied and held out a folded square of paper before Pippa could ask for assistance dressing. She needed to find Myles. They had to talk—she had to explain to him what she meant the night before. To tell him how sorry she was.

“What is this?” Pippa took the paper and unfolded it, realizing it was a note. She recognized the strong, swooping handwriting immediately.

The maid ducked her head and spoke quietly. “Mr. Cobbett asked that I give that to you. After I packed a valise for him.”

Pippa walked to the window and pulled back the curtains, letting the morning sunlight fall upon the paper.

Lady Philippa,

Forgive me for taking my leave through paper and pen. There is something I must do. I will return in a weeks’ time. My family will look after you until then. Please know, despite all I said last evening, that I hold your happiness dearer above all else. There is more I would say, but it must wait.

Your Husband,

Myles

The note was far too short. Too vague. And what was it that Myles had to do? Where was he going?

Folding the paper, Pippa looked up at her maid. “When did he leave?” Or could he still be in the house? Perhaps she could catch him—

“Two hours ago, my lady.”

Pippa turned away from her servant and stared out the window, no longer seeing the vibrant flower garden or the trees. She saw nothing. Felt only cold disappointment. “I would like a tray brought to my room, please. I do not feel well.”

Not well enough to face the family. To answer questions they might have about where Myles had gone.

But then—what if one of them knew why he had left?

“Wait—I changed my mind.” Pippa held her hand out to stay the maid, who was nearly to the door to obey her first order. She swallowed her pride and forced herself to appear calm. “It would be rude to stay away. Please, find something for me to wear so I might spend the day with my mother-in-law.”

If anyone knew what Myles was up to, it would likely be his mother or his brother. Myles and Winston spent a lot of time in each other’s company. Surely her husband couldn’t have disappeared without telling someone where he had gone.

Except half an hour later, it seemed he had done just that.

“Myles left with nary a word to me, my dear.” Lady Greenwood held a watering can in one hand and a small potted fern in the other. Pippa had found her mother-in-law busy in the greenhouse. “Other than goodbye, of course. He promised he would return soon. I asked where he was going—we have engagements for the two of you to attend. He only said, ‘There is something I must do.’” She narrowed her eyes at Pippa. “Most cryptic. I had hoped you knew what he was up to.”

Pippa slowly shook her head, then gestured to the fern. She could find Winston later. “Might I help with your work in here? I need something to keep my hands busy.”

“Of course, dear. Here. Find a suitable place for this one where it won’t be covered over by larger fronds.” After that, Pippa helped trim hothouse flowers for the house. Fragrant blossoms were to go in every room. “The roses outside the greenhouse will bloom soon. I have already spied several buds among my whites and pinks. The reds are slow to wake this year. I have a party for my closest friends in the garden, once all the rosebushes are showing color.”

“That sounds lovely. I hope I am here to see it.” Pippa couldn’t bring herself to say much more, but her mother-in-law kept up a comforting stream of words about flowers, gardens, and all things summery and light.

Lady Greenwood didn’t seem upset over her son’s absence. And she didn’t question Pippa closely about why Myles disappeared without a word to either of them. It was only when they left the greenhouse and inspected the outdoor rose bushes that the older of the two gave Pippa a soft smile. “Did you know that Myles was my least adventurous child?”

Startled by the change in conversation, and the knowledge, Pippa had to shake her head. “No,” she drew out the word slowly. “I did not. Given that he became a soldier, I would have thought the opposite to be true.”

“Myles never ventured far from home, except when his sisters or brothers asked it of him.” Lady Greenwood smiled fondly, her gaze unfocused as she slipped into memory. “And he only went because he thought he needed to look after everyone. That has always been his way. He looks after people.” She bent to inhale the scent of a white rosebud. “When he was a very little boy, only two years old, he found me crying. I don’t remember why now. Mothers cry a great deal over nothing, sometimes.” She shrugged and turned to face Pippa. “But that little boy toddled to where I sat and patted my cheek. ‘No cry, Mama. Love you.’ And he gave me a kiss. I tell you, I wrapped him in my arms and held him close. I thought it the sweetest thing.”

Pippa lowered herself to an iron chair, keeping her eyes on Myles’s mother. “That is a sweet story. So protecting others from harm has always been part of his nature.”

“Always.” Lady Greenwood swept forward and took the match to Pippa’s chair. “Which gives me reason to wonder how the two of you met and married so quickly that he did not have time to write me about it until after the deed was done.” Nothing in the woman’s tone was threatening, or disapproving, but the way she sat like a queen on a throne meant she expected answers.

“Myles hasn’t told you anything?” Pippa asked softly.

“Nothing. Except that he is happy.”

Pippa’s heart fluttered, but then guilt weighed it down again. She folded her hands in her lap. “I think…I think you should know all the circumstances. Because I wonder if maybe Myles isn’t happy at all.” Pippa swallowed, then had to look away from the woman whose eyes were so like her son’s. “He was looking after me. Protecting me, and by extension, helping his sisters.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Greenwood spoke steadily, and her expression softened. “Were you in danger?”

Though Pippa had no desire to tell their story without Myles, the peace of the garden wrapped around her heart and soul. Lady Greenwood’s gentle presence made it easier to confide in her, too. Haltingly at first, and then more steadily, Pippa told her mother-in-law their story. From the moment she first met Myles in the ballroom, up until the day they arrived at Ambleside. She tried not to speak much about Myles’s struggles in London, focusing instead on his readiness to do whatever necessary to please her.

“I never thought myself spoiled, or selfish,” Pippa admitted, unable to look her mother-in-law in the eye. “I wanted to be better than that. Better than my mother and my elder sister. They are horribly vain. They accept nothing less than what they think the best, in everything. I thought I was different. But lately, I think I have been just as terrible as them. Your son has sacrificed his future for mine, when he might’ve been happier to marry someone else. Someone who didn’t demand so much from him.”

Lady Greenwood said nothing. Pippa couldn’t bring herself to look at the other woman’s expression, certain as she was that it would hold disappointment. Or disgust. The silence lay heavily on her heart, the only sounds penetrating her guilt the soft rustle of the leaves. Far away, a bird called, and another answered.

“Pippa.” Lady Greenwood spoke firmly. “Look at me, child.”

She inhaled deeply, bolstering herself with what little confidence remained to her. Pippa lifted her gaze to her mother-in-law. Lady Greenwood’s countenance, soft and maternal as ever, didn’t waver as she studied Pippa. “My son isn’t one to make important decisions lightly. That he married you doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. He saw a way to help people outside of himself. Whatever sacrifice you think he made for that opportunity, you ought to honor it rather than bemoan your own motives.”

Leaning closer, Pippa asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, dear Pippa, that we all have weaknesses. You. Me. Myles. But I would not declare that his giving heart is one of his. And it does not sound to me as though you came to the conclusion that you must marry with selfishness so much as self-preservation. You needed someone. You found Myles. If you feel you have since been more concerned with yourself than him, that is a weakness that can be corrected. Isn’t it?”

That thought made Pippa’s head hang lower and her shoulders bunch up toward her ears. “I tried,” she admitted quietly. “When I spoke to Myles last night. I tried to correct how I’d behaved—”

“In order to make yourself feel better, dear.” Lady Greenwood’s voice remained gentle, and Pippa winced again. The baroness had a perceptive mind. “You weren’t thinking of Myles so much as you were thinking about you. Were you?”

Pippa released a trembly breath. “No. You are right, of course. I wanted to soothe my conscience more than I thought on what he needed from me.” Pippa rose from her chair and walked to one of the rose bushes, not seeing the buds so clearly as the thorns. “What do I do? He must think me such a foolish, childish thing.”

Lady Greenwood came to stand beside her, brushing Pippa’s cheek as gently as she might a rosebud. Pippa’s attention stayed on the greenery, knowing if she saw the way Myles’s mother looked at her she would most certainly cry. No one had looked after Pippa in so long. But that was exactly what this felt like. Lady Greenwood mothered Pippa as she would one of her own children.

“I doubt my son would ever think less of you for your mistakes. As I said. We all have them. And Myles—well.” Here the woman’s voice changed, sounding more amused than comforting. She drew Pippa’s gaze up again as she spoke. “Myles has always been a protector, it is true. He has always been kind. But I have never seen him look at a woman as he looks at you.”

That afternoon, Lady Greenwood and her daughters Margaret and Elenor, invited Pippa to call on Dr. and Mrs. Johnson with them. “You must come see the Clock House,” Elenor, the youngest, said with a bright grin. “It is absolutely charming.”

Though Pippa had hoped to visit the doctor with Myles, she had no intention of passing up the opportunity now presented. Myles thought highly of the doctor and his wife. She wanted to get to know them, for his sake. Thus she rode in an open carriage with her new in-laws. Lady Greenwood drove, rather than have a servant accompany them.

They passed through a beautiful wood to emerge in a sun-drenched lane surrounded on either side by rolling hills of green. “This is Highdale land,” Lady Greenwood told Pippa. “The same gentleman owns it that leases the Clock House to the Johnsons. He used to raise cattle, but recently sold most of his herds.” She pursed her lips. “He is being quite close-mouthed as to why. Though the baron and I think he means to sell.”

“He hasn’t any family,” Margaret said, speaking in a soft voice as though the gentleman himself might hear her. “And he must be seventy if he is a day.”

“It would be interesting, would it not? To have new neighbors at such a time in my life.” Lady Greenwood shook her head and then pointed. “Ah, there it is. The Clock House.”

An ordinary brick house, with slate roof, sat back not twenty feet from the road. Pippa studied it carefully, from its green-painted shutters to the pleasant yellow door, and the ivy creeping up one side. “Why is it called the Clock House?”

“Look at the barn,” Elenor said, pointing to a brick building set near the house.

At the top of the barn, several feet in diameter, was a bright white clockface. Two long hands pointed out the hour and minutes. The clock faced the house, and anyone coming toward it on the road.

“Dear me. Why would anyone put a clock on the barn?” Pippa laughed. “Do the animals keep to a strict schedule?”

“The first owner of the house—when it was a gatehouse to Highdale House many years ago—thought it important that anyone coming or going knew the time. The main bedroom at Clock House looks directly at the clock, too. Some say the old gatekeeper put the clock in for himself, so he might never be tardy to work.”

Lady Greenwood drove the carriage up to the door, which opened immediately by a male servant. The man came out to tie up the horses. The doctor himself emerged next, and he helped the ladies step down.

“Lady Philippa, Lady Greenwood, Miss Greenwood, Miss Elenor. How wonderful to have you all here. Do come inside. Mrs. Johnson and I were just speaking of the pleasant time we had at the picnic.”

They past nearly an hour in the company of the Johnsons, and by the time they took their leave, Pippa wished very much to make Mrs. Johnson a particular friend. The woman was kind and gracious, and quite proud of her husband’s work as a physician. Pippa secured a promise from Mrs. Johnson of a visit the following day. Given the sly smile of her mother-in-law, Pippa wondered if that had been the aim all along. Not to make Pippa feel better, but to give her a friend whose values were quite different from the ladies in London’s highest society.

As they stood in the garden, the horses ready, another thought occurred to Pippa. “Do you know your landlord very well?” she asked Mrs. Johnson. “I have only heard of him this afternoon. What is his name?”

“Mr. Young.” The doctor’s wife appeared suddenly quite solemn. “My husband visits him often.” She did not say whether it was as a doctor or tenant but given the line of worry appearing between her eyebrows, Pippa guessed the former was the case. “Would you like to meet him? He is a talkative gentleman, to be sure, and has the most diverting stories of local history.”

“I would like that very much.” Thus they planned yet another time to see one another and call upon Mr. Young.

On the ride back to Ambleside, Lady Greenwood gave Pippa a knowing glance. Her dark eyebrows raised as she said, seemingly to all three younger women, “Mrs. Johnson is one of the most compassionate women of my acquaintance. I do hope we all might learn from her, for as long as she and her husband may be persuaded to live in our neighborhood.” While Margaret and Elenor murmured their agreement, Pippa leaned back and lifted her face to the sun.

With the warmth of the late-spring sun upon her face, Pippa’s thoughts shifted. She planted new ideas in the garden of her mind as one would seedlings—delicately, and with great hope for the future.