An Earnest Favour

VIII

"I don't want to be married just to be married. I can't think of anything lonelier than spending the rest of my life with someone I can't talk to, or worse, someone I can't be silent with." Mary Ann Shaffer, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

---- 

VIII.

Claire had a book open on her lap, but she was too nervous to read, it being her wedding day in a matter of hours. This time tomorrow night, she would be a wife. And she would not be Arthur's wife, as she had so long dreamed. She would be the wife of Jack Beresford, a man who was indeed still a great mystery to her.

Claire had kept her promise to Jack in the few days since their last meeting, though it was not hard to avoid Arthur Slickson when one kept to their bedroom. Mrs Denham, again, attributed it to nerves, and even Claire was surprised at how easy she was able to fool her mother. How good she had become at lying. It was not a talent that Claire had ever aspired to.

But late that Saturday night, Claire was disturbed by a knock on her door.

"Yes?" she called.

Mrs Denham quietly opened the door and hobbled inside, having abandoned her cane for the evening. She made quick work of shutting the door behind her and making her way to the edge of Claire's bed.

Claire abandoned her book, not that she had been reading it anyway. "Are you alright, Mama?"

Mrs Denham smiled awkwardly. "Yes, Claire," she murmured.

She did appear to be struggling with something, which made Claire terribly nervous. Did her mother bear her bad tidings? For a dreaded second, Claire suddenly thought that perhaps Jack had changed his mind.

"Oh, one would think by the third daughter, this conversation would be a little easier," Mrs Denham said under her breath. "My dear, I have come to explain things to you, to help you know what to expect tomorrow night ... your wedding night."

Claire immediately paled. Oh, dear Lord, how Claire wished she could tell her mother such a conversation wasn't necessary, for she had learned the hard way already. But to say such a thing would be to break her mother's heart, among other ruinous things.

Claire then realised that not only was it her wedding day tomorrow, but it was also her wedding night. No matter their circumstances, Jack would expect ... Claire felt green.

"You needn't appear so frightened, dear," Mrs Denham assured her. "It ... it is an act of love, after all. One which creates life."

A rogue sob escaped Claire's chest as the realisation that her mother was entirely incorrect settled within her. Life was not only created through an act of love, but also an act of deception.

"Oh, dear, my darling," cooed Mrs Denham, shuffling closer to Claire on the bed, near enough to take her youngest daughter into her arms. Claire rested her head against her mother's chest and wept. Mrs Denham stroked Claire's back comfortingly, hushing her soothingly. "Claire, I implore you to tell me why you are so upset," she begged. "Surely this cannot be just nerves."

How Claire wanted to confide in her. But she would not let herself. "I am sad to leave you, Mama," whimpered Claire, without a word of a lie. Among every emotion that was flowing within her, Claire was truly upset at the fact that her silly actions had resulted in her need to leave her mother's house.

"Leave me?" Mrs Denham chuckled quietly. "My dear, I would never let you leave me." She lifted Claire's chin with her index finger. "Your getting married does nothing to sever my love for you, just as it did not for your sisters." Mrs Denham kissed Claire's cheek. "How I wish your father was alive to give you away tomorrow. You are going to be the most beautiful bride."