An Earnest Favour

XXX

"Death, taxes and childbirth! There's never any convenient time for any of them." Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind

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XXX.

It was the eighth Sunday that Claire had attended church alone. Of course, she was never alone, but Jack was not there.

He was not there because they had quarrelled. Or rather, Jack had refused to listen to Claire long enough for her to explain her side of the story, or even the story in general. It had also taken four or so letters before she had received an apologetic reply from Jack.

And that was weeks ago.

He had still not returned.

Claire had never felt more isolated in her life. She was in a house full of people who couldn't know what she was experiencing, and the one person who had promised to be on her side wasn't.

Jack didn't trust Claire, and she did understand why. She had allowed herself to be compromised, but that still didn't mean Jack's flight to London didn't hurt. Jack could believe the worst in her and Claire had the reason why tucked underneath her dress.

What was worse was that she had needed to pretend that all was fine. She had perfected her false smile, and had assured Grace mainly that she was fine, and was in regular contact with Jack while he conducted his business in London.

Cecily, who was still not privy to Jack's plans, had made a few comments about Jack slipping back into old habits when she thought Claire wasn't in earshot, but she had heard them, and she had to admit that it had crossed her mind, too.

If Jack knew the truth, and was sorry, why hadn't he come home to ensure that she was alright? The name Giulia Panetta kept haunting her, and Claire was unsure what she would say or do if she found out that Jack had reverted to his old ways. Would she be expected to permit them? He had promised her that he would never take a mistress, but had he changed his mind?

These were all questions that she longed to ask him if he ever deemed it necessary to show his face.

At the conclusion of the service, Claire excused herself to go and make a contribution to the collection box. It was getting harder and harder to get up and down, particularly after an hour of sitting on those uncomfortable wooden pews. Claire didn't know how Grace was managing it considering she had mere days or weeks to go before the birth of her own child.

She rubbed her sore back before she unfastened her money purse to make a donation.

"Are you alright, Claire?"

Claire was startled as someone else dropped a handful of coins into the box quickly after her. When she looked up, she saw Arthur's green eyes watching her curiously.

"Leave me alone," Claire whispered in reply.

"It seems that is all that husband of yours is doing lately," countered Arthur coolly. "What has it been, two months, or three, since he has last escorted you to church, or anywhere? And in your condition, my, my," he tsked.

Claire had become an unwitting participant in a correspondence with Arthur since Jack had left for London. He wrote her love letters, really, messages of affection, care, and curiosity after the baby. Claire had ignored his letters, or responded with brief requests for them to cease, but if she didn't reply, he happened upon her in the street as she visited her mother or accosted her in church as he was now.

And as much as Claire didn't want to be receiving correspondence from Arthur, she couldn't deny that it was nice to read kind words. In comparison, the letters from her husband boasted the number of ruddy printing presses he had acquired, and it did nothing but infuriate her.