a marriage of convenience: iii. the marriage
iii. the marriage
Jon went down to breakfast the next morning determined to be cheerful, kind and understanding. He still felt bad about the night before. He'd been drunk, that was his only excuse, though an uncomfortable thought nagged at the back of his mind that he hadn't been that drunk, not really. He'd done what he'd done because he'd wanted to, because he wanted Tom. But that was before he knew the truth, and now he was determined to show Tom that he understood the bargain that they'd struck and would not make further demands.
All of his good intentions went to waste, however, because Tom didn't come down to breakfast.
After waiting long enough to determine Tom must have decided on breakfast in his room, Jon made his way back upstairs. He knocked on Tom's door and carefully waited to be let in by the servant, but Tom was already up and dressed. When Jon came in Tom stood up, against the wall, and looked at Jon then quickly looked down. "I'm almost packed," he said. "I won't make us late."
"Good morning," Jon said, and Tom said it back quickly, as if he thought Jon had been correcting him. "Don't worry about that," Jon said as Tom fussed over the bag his servant was packing. He nodded at the man, who left them discreetly. "I want to talk to you about something."
This was something else Jon had decided the night before. The wedding trip he'd planned had been small and quiet, like the wedding, like everything else. Tom's father had apparently made an offer to send them all over Europe, but of course Jon had refused. He wasn't so far lost to his own standards that he'd pay for his wedding trip with another man's money. Now that the wedding was over he had plenty, of course, and there was no denying it came from Tom's father, but Jon at least had the decency not to soak the man before the vows had been said. Jon had arranged the wedding trip himself, which had meant it wasn't a Grand Tour but was instead a week in a small hunting lodge owned by a friend. Jon had been there before - it was small, with one bedroom, and one bed.
At the time, of course, that hadn't given him pause. They'd be married, of course. But after the night before, Jon thought, with his newfound kindness and understanding, that perhaps Tom wouldn't want to spend a week in such close quarters with him, with anyone else except - with anyone. With a part of him that was neither kind nor understanding but still new, Jon was not sure he wanted to spend a week in close quarters with Tom, now that he was determined not to touch him.
Tom sat down and looked at Jon expectantly. Jon had actually thought this would have been a little easier, when he'd thought about it the night before. He was sure he'd thought of how he would put it, so gracefully and full of discreet understanding about Tom's feelings that Tom would be grateful, but the words had flown from his mind. Instead of his graceful and understanding speech, he said, "We're not going."
"Oh," Tom said. "Is it the rain? Will we leave tomorrow?"
"No," Jon said. "No, we're just not going."
"Did - is something wrong? Is someone sick, or -"
"No, no," Jon said reassuringly. "I just thought - well, I just decided it would be better if we didn't go."
"Oh," Tom said. A dull flush spread over his cheeks and Jon was uncomfortably reminded of the night before, of how Tom had looked flushed and rumpled against the sheets.
Jon turned away a little and said, "I thought - it was just a hunting lodge, very small and - well, I thought you might prefer not to go."
"Oh," Tom said. "You thought I'd prefer it."
"Yes," Jon said.
"Oh," Tom said again. "Oh. I understand."
"Good, good," Jon said. He stole a look at Tom and then looked away again. "It'll give you a chance to settle in." When Tom didn't say anything he said, "If you like I'll take you out to dine tonight. Wherever you like."
"No, that's all right," Tom said. "Thank you. I think - I don't feel quite well, I think. I think maybe I'll just stay here and - settle in."
"Of course," Jon said understandingly. "I'll leave you to it then."
An unkind person might have said that Jon fled from the room. Really, he was only leaving Tom to get used to his new life. He was, unreasonably he knew, a little piqued that Tom hadn't shown more of a reaction to the cancelled trip. The lodge was one of Jon's favorite places, actually; the hunting was very fine there. He had been looking forward to it, his own reward for going through with the wedding. But he was happy to give that up if it made things easier for Tom. He reminded himself that it would take time for Tom to get over his unfortunate feelings. Besides, Jon wasn't doing this for gratitude.
The week of the cancelled trip was possibly the most uncomfortable of his life. Everyone expected him to be away so he had no invitations, no reason to be out of the house. Tom stayed closeted in his room for the first two days. When Jon sent to inquire about his ill heath, Tom started appearing for lunch and dinner, where they sat in silence as their food was brought in. Jon made idle conversation when they were left alone, which Tom responded to with the briefest possible answers. After Jon finished his dinner, Tom left his barely touched plate and went back upstairs. He went to bed early, Jon gathered. He didn't know for sure. He didn't go into Tom's room again. Instead he sat up late over his brandy and thought about how he'd thought being married would be different. He wasn't sure what he'd thought it would be like, but he'd thought it would be different from this.
Once the week was over things started looking up. Jon was cheerful by nature, and not given to moping, and he was happy to be able to go to his club and the stables and the gymnasium without people wondering why he was in town. In the evenings they received invitations to parties every night, a courtesy to Jon and his new husband, of course, and also a sop to everyone's curiosity. Jon was not looking forward to it - these things were always a crush and a bore - but he was aware that his part of the bargain was to introduce Tom into society and he was determined to live up to his part.
When Tom appeared downstairs for the first party he was dressed simply but well, to Jon's relief. He'd thought he might have had to give Tom a hint, as this first party was at his aunt's and she was rather a stickler. No, in outward appearance Tom looked as well as anyone at the party, better even, Jon thought. If all he'd had to do was stand there and be looked at, he would have been the success of the season.
Unfortunately, that wasn't all he had to do.
Jon should have known what was coming when Tom said, just before they got out of the carriage, "Are you sure this is all right?" Jon had looked at him stupidly. "Are you sure people will talk to me?" Tom said in a desperate whisper.
"Of course they will," Jon said. "Don't worry, you're with me, it will be fine."
The problem, of course, was not people talking to Tom. Jon was right; to be rude to Tom was a slight to Jon. Besides, people were curious about him. The problem was Tom talking to people.
He must have been different before the scandal, Jon thought desperately as he watched from across the room as people approached Tom and then gave up after a few awkward minutes. Of course he'd never been properly out, and heaven knew at his father's house he would not have been used to good society, but he must have had to talk to someone sometime. Jon had been able to make polite conversation with strangers from the time he was five. When he saw people start to whisper, he sighed and crossed the room. It was the height of bad form, of course, for married couples, even newlyweds, to hang all over each other in public, but it was even worse for Tom to stand in a corner alone. Next to him Jon could field people's questions and after a little while Tom even started to speak a bit, even if he was never what could be called loquacious. It might have been bad form to stick so close to Tom's side, but Jon was reasonably certain people weren't talking about how besotted they were with each other.
Late in the evening they were left alone for a few minutes. Tom gulped gratefully at the punch Jon brought him and then said, "You shouldn't be here with me, should you?"
"I can be where I like," Jon said, neatly sidestepping the question, "it's one of the pleasures of being grown-up."
Then he distracted Tom by telling him a story about one of the fat old crows sitting across the room on a couch. It was an old story, one Jon thought everyone must have heard and that was of course a scandalous lie, but Tom laughed as if it were new to him. Jon was so encouraged he made up a new story on the spot about the old man sitting next to her. Until they left Jon sat on the arm of Tom's chair and told him outrageous stories while Tom laughed, ignoring the looks and whispers of the people around them. At least a few, Jon thought, from some of the most sentimental old ladies, were not pitying but kindly.
Back at Jon's house they paused in the hallway. "Thank you," Tom said, and Jon pretended he didn't know what Tom was talking about.
Instead he said, "It's late, you must be tired."
"A little," Tom said. He looked down while Jon helped him off with his jacket. "Not really."
"Oh," Jon said. "Well, it is late - good night." He headed into the library. It was a little while before he heard Tom's footsteps on the stairs.
The next two nights Jon didn't give Tom a chance to be abandoned in a corner but stayed with him from the start. Tom relaxed a bit when he realized Jon wasn't leaving, and even seemed to enjoy himself a little. Not a lot, but a little. Jon was so pleased by this progress that he would have been happy to condemn etiquette to perdition and stay beside Tom all night, telling him wild stories to hear him laugh, except for the conversation he overheard when he left Tom briefly to bring back punch.
"It's a shame," a man he didn't know said to another, "I mean, I understand he was in desperate need of money, but really, there are limits. No, I never heard the full story of what happened with Wentz, but it must have been shocking if Walker can't even leave him alone for a minute for fear of what he'll get up to. It would be funny if it weren't so sad."
Jon did his best to keep his face impassive but when he returned Tom said, "What's wrong?" Jon shrugged him off, but for the rest of the night it was Jon who was the poor hand at conversation. After what he'd heard, Jon knew things couldn't go on as they were.
His first instinct was to start declining invitations, but that would have been disastrous for Tom if people were already talking. Besides, these parties were still being thrown in their honor, and not to attend would have been rude, and worse than rude, obvious. Jon could think of only one thing to do. Despite his reluctance to tell others that Tom was struggling, he decided to enlist his friends' assistance at the next reception.
Jon kept a close watch from across the room, but his friends were good friends and they kept their word. That didn't keep them from complaining, though. When William's shift was over he tracked Jon down and said, "You owe me."
"Enough," Jon said, but of course it wasn't.
"I'm serious," William said. "That was slow going - I really think something's wrong with him. I told him all my best jokes and he didn't even crack a smile."
"That's actually one of the first signs of hope for him I've heard," Jon said.
Despite his friends' complaints Jon's system worked. Tom was never left alone, and Jon thought he might even have been gaining confidence. One night when he was ready to go, he actually had to wait five minutes while Tom and Andy finished their conversation. In the carriage on the way home Jon asked curiously, "What were you two talking about?"
"Art," Tom said. "He paints, did you know?"
"I did," Jon said, "but I didn't think he would mention it in polite company," and Tom laughed.
"Do you paint?" Jon asked, because truthfully, he had no idea what Tom did all day.
"No," Tom said, and in the silence that followed Jon thought, oh.
Then Tom said, a little shyly, "I used to like - I sketched sometimes, at school and - and after. I wasn't very good, really, and my father thought it was foolish but he didn't mind. I used to go out in the woods and in town, sometimes. I used to like it."
"Oh," Jon said. "Oh, well, do you have your drawing things with you? If you'd like to go out sketching you can take a servant with you, or - is it the type of thing you need a studio for? You can use the back parlor, no one ever sits there."
"No," Tom said, brusquely enough that Jon blinked. Then he said, "It was foolish, my father was right. I shouldn't have - I don't do that anymore," and he turned to look out the window. In the silence Jon thought, oh, again, and didn't ask anymore.
Married life continued on apace. Jon's daily routine was much the same as before he married, his friends and his club, riding in the park, a few dinners out and a few at home with Tom. The season was in full swing so they were out most nights, if not to parties or balls then to lectures by new authors and adventurers or to the theater. Tom hated lectures but he loved the theater, so Jon took him to every show that was suitable and a few that weren't, though he was careful to make sure no one saw Tom at those plays. He was not wild over the theater himself, but he enjoyed watching Tom lean over the balcony, enraptured by the leading man's monologue, and Jon found that if he asked him a few searching questions in the carriage on the way home Tom was positively chatty. All in all, Jon's life was as full and busy as it had been before his marriage. He wasn't sure what Tom did all day or on the nights Jon was out without him, but his servants let him know that Tom didn't go out when Jon wasn't home. Tom seemed, if not happy, then at least content, and Jon thought perhaps he was starting to forget about his unfortunate feelings.
All in all, married life was not so bad.
[iv. the country]