The Remarried

Chapter five

Until now, my custodian has always come announced. That is why when I walk out the door this morning, the sight in front of me makes me stop in my tracks.

There is Margaret Bonham in front of the house, talking to Timothy. I back up and hide behind the low wall that separates the porch from the driveway. If someone catches me there, I will look like a fool, hiding among the flower pots, but I can't help myself. I don't trust Margaret any more than she trusts me.

"You drove Miss Wellard to London?" Margaret asks.

Timothy just hums and continues washing the car.

"Could you give me a proper answer?" she barks.

"I drove Mr. Wintercourt to work as usual. He told me to take Miss Wellard to some shops, and then we picked him up at work again. I don't know why you are asking me about it," Timothy says and the annoyance is dripping from his voice.

"Did she talk to anyone there?"

Timothy drops the sponge and looks at her like she is a fool. "Well, of course. When you go shopping, you have to talk, don't you?"

I cheer for him in my mind.

"I meant if she didn't meet anyone there."

"Like who?" Timothy frowns. "Do you mean a secret rendezvous?"

Margaret crosses her arms in front of her body. "Perhaps."

"Ma'am, I'm a gentleman. Even if she did have such a rendezvous, I wouldn't reveal it to anyone. And now if you excuse me, I have to get the car ready for the Senator."

I creep back inside. That she is mistrustful is only understandable, but now I get the feeling that she is borderline paranoid. She is acting as though I am a part of the Underground myself, involved in some secret plot trying to overthrow the Senate and take control over the country. I am fairly self-confident, but even I would admit that I am a bit too simple-minded for such thing. I am capable of plotting on personal level. Politics and armed conflicts are not my thing.

Margaret, clearly, has a higher opinion about me.

When she finally comes inside, I greet her in the salon, pretending that I didn't see her before and didn't expect her at all.

We spend hours going over the wedding ceremony, the guest list, the menu, things that every bride would probably enjoy planning, if she were marrying out of love. I certainly did before my first marriage. I spent a lot of time choosing my dress, picking the right cake and the food, planning everything down to the smallest detail, from flower decorations to the color of the napkins. It was also a way to repay my aunt, to make her happy. She was so excited about me getting married, about Edmond being rich, about the wedding being so big. She could return back to the world that she lost after her husband's death and after my parents' death. Now there is not a single person that would be happy about the marriage. Even Mrs. Wintercourt, who is sitting in the room with us, almost never speaks, like she doesn't care at all what the wedding will be like.

I keep waiting for Margaret to mention my trip to London again, to ask me questions about it, but she doesn't. If I didn't overhear her conversation with Timothy, I wouldn't know that she suspected me of anything more than having ordered a tasteless bouquet.

She leaves when it's almost time for dinner, for which nobody invites her – after the Senator's experience with her, nobody probably dares to even suggest it. I walk up the stairs and go to my room to get changed. When I walk in, there is a big white box tied with a satin ribbon on my bed. I know what is inside.

I approach the box carefully like it's supposed to explode. Then I untie the ribbon and marvel at the light show the gems, glass and pearls scintillating in the late afternoon sun present for my eyes only so far. When I married Edmond, I picked a rather simple dress. Now I almost regret it. This was supposed to be my dress when I was marrying a man out of love.