a marriage of convenience: v. the dog
v. the dog
The next day it was raining and Jon took the opportunity to meet with his estate manager and actually do some of the work he'd come down for in the first place. He had sadly neglected his duties since he'd arrived, and so spent the day riding the property, meeting tenants and noting the need for repairs. When he headed back to the house, still in his muddy boots with his dogs around him, Tom was sitting by the window paging idly through a book. The dogs rushed up to him, jumping up on the chair and Tom all covered in dirt, but Tom just laughed. When Jon ordered them down Tom slid down onto the floor with them, scratching their ears and calling them good dogs until they flopped onto the floor and rolled onto their backs so he could rub their bellies. It was a ridiculous sight, and Jon couldn't help laughing. "I wouldn't have guessed," he said, "when I first saw you, that one day I'd find you rolling on the floor with muddy dogs."
"They're good dogs," Tom said. "I love dogs."
"Did you ever have one?" Jon asked.
Tom hesitated a moment before he said, "I had a great dog, he was so friendly and well-behaved, he'd do anything I told him."
"Unlike my monsters," Jon said. "When did you have him?"
"I found him three years ago," Tom said. "He's at my father's now."
"Why didn't you bring him with you?"
Tom sat up suddenly, rolling one of the dogs gently off his lap. Jon wasn't sure what the narrow look in his eyes meant. "I didn't bring him with me," Tom said with crisp emphasis, "because he wasn't fashionable."
For a moment Jon had nothing to say. He wouldn't have believed Tom could care about such a thing. He couldn't believe it, looking at him now in his ruined white shirt, with the dogs panting eagerly around him. "I don't even know what that means," he said. "I can't believe you'd abandon your dog because, what, he wasn't one of those little lapdogs in fashion? Why would you do such a thing?"
Tom jumped to his feet, looking furious. "What is this, another test?" he said. "You try to make me do things and then when I do them you despise me?"
Jon looked at him stupidly. "I abandoned my dog," Tom said, "because I was told I had to, because I was told I couldn't bring my cheap vulgar dog with me, like I couldn't bring my cheap vulgar clothes or any of my cheap vulgar things. I was told that you didn't want anything cheap and vulgar in your father's house," Tom said. "Well, except one thing."
"I never said -" Jon started, and stopped because he couldn't quite remember but he thought he might have said something like that before the wedding. He hadn't meant it, though. Or if he had, he didn't mean it now.
"Oh, but I was told not to worry," Tom said viciously, "because someone with taste - you, I suppose - would buy me anything I needed. Of course, you'll buy it for me with my money," he said, and Jon took a step toward him before he stopped himself.
"Oh, is that vulgar," Tom said, "to mention that?" From the corner of his eye Jon saw a servant scuttle out of the room.
"I won't fight with you," Jon said with dignity, and walked out.
He changed in his room in a cold fury. After all the care he'd taken to be kind and understanding, after all the things he could have said to Tom and never had, he couldn't believe he'd been spoken to like that in his own home. He stalked out of the house without a word to Tom, who he assumed was sulking in his room, and saddled his horse and rode back to town. Perhaps a little time buried alone in the country would bring Tom back to his senses.
Once in town Jon couldn't decide where to go. His own house to change was the natural destination, but for some reason he didn't want to go there. His club held no appeal, and he couldn't think of anyone he wanted to go see. He found himself without really planning it in the old business district downtown, somewhere he'd rarely ever been. When he saw Tom's father's office he handed the reins to a post-boy and went inside.
He caused quite a stir inside the office; apparently everyone knew who he was. A well-dressed older man in a suit crept up with a servile smile and told him that Mr. Conrad was out, but when Jon said he'd wait the man didn't leave him. "He wouldn't want to put you out, my lord," the man said. "Perhaps I can help you? I am authorized to sign checks on his behalf." He sidled away when Jon stared at him coldly, beckoning to one of the office boys. Whispered conferences were held around him as Jon sat in his dirt in the waiting room, looking straight ahead. Finally Mr. Conrad hurried in, led by an office boy obviously dispatched to find him.
"My lord," he said, bowing, "what is it? Is Tom -"
"Tom's fine," Jon said. Then, feeling a little guilty at the man's obvious relief, he said, "He's at my house in the country, there's nothing wrong."
Now that he was here Jon felt a little foolish. Tom's father ushered him into his office. "What can I do for you?" he asked. "If you find yourself a little short, I'm happy to -"
"Does Tom have a dog?" Jon asked, aware of his rudeness but politeness was beyond him right now.
Tom's father looked at him, bewildered. "Yes," he said. "He's at my house. I understand you don't care for dogs, and I admit to some sympathy with you there, I -"
"I like dogs," Jon said shortly. "Can I have Tom's?"
"Of - of course, my lord," Tom's father said. "Shall I send someone for the dog, or shall I go myself?"
"I'm short on time," Jon said. "Let's go now."
Mr. Conrad led Jon through the streets to his nearby home in a bit of a daze. Jon knew how he felt. The house was huge and garish, but Jon barely took it in. Once inside the house, Tom's father sent several servants on a hunt for a dog who, when produced, turned out to be the ugliest dog Jon had ever had the misfortune to see. Its ugliness was only amplified by a jeweled collar and a bright purple leash, and Jon could only gape at the sight for a moment. "He seemed a little lonely when Tom left," Tom's father said in a small voice. "I thought it might cheer him up." Suddenly Jon felt like he might be the worst person in the world.
He turned to Tom's father and said, "Sir, I apologize for my brusqueness. Tom mentioned his dog today and I thought I'd bring him back for him, and my mind was on that."
"Oh, no harm done, my boy -- I mean my lord," Tom's father said. "How is Tom? I haven't had a letter from him in a few days, but if he's in the country that would explain it."
"A letter?" Jon said. "Does he write you when he's in town? Don't you see him?"
"Oh, no," Tom's father said quickly, "no, you needn't worry about that, I totally understand, Tom was a little stubborn but I explained it all to him and he finally agreed. He doesn't come back here to see me, he knows the rules, but he writes very often, he's a good boy."
Jon felt very confused by everything right now. "Do you think -- I'm sorry, but do you think I could have a drink?" he said, and Mr. Conrad cursed his own negligence and bustled about, calling servants and ordering food and wine. Jon stood in the middle of the hurly-burly, the dog's ridiculous leash in his hand, until he was ushered into the library. When he started to walk the dog dug his heels in and then snapped at Jon's hand, like he knew what Jon had been up to with Tom and he didn't like it.
Once seated across from Tom's father, Jon found himself with nothing to say. Fortunately Mr. Conrad took control of the conversation. After eliciting the details of Tom's daily life, many of which Jon guiltily invented as it occurred to him now that, when they were in town, he knew little of what Tom did all day, Mr. Conrad looked Jon straight in the eye and said, "Forgive an old man a direct question, but - he's happy now?"
Jon looked down at his glass and tried not to think about the scene earlier in the morning and hoped that his guilt would be taken for newlywed shyness. There was no need to worry the old man. "He's said nothing about being unhappy." It was true, after all. Of course, Tom wouldn't have said anything, but still it wasn't a lie.
Tom's father smiled widely and said, "I knew it would be the right thing, I knew it." He looked across the table at Jon and said, "I know what they say about me, my lord, and mayhap most of it is true, but I wanted him to be happy, even more than a title. Not that it's not a thrill for someone who grew up running barefoot around London, my boy married to the likes of you, but - he was always his mother's boy, Tom was. And she was - she was the Quality." If there was a part of Jon that might have winced once at the vulgarity of the expression, it was nowhere to be found now, listening to the old man's forlorn tone.
"What she was doing with me I'll never know -- I always thought she might have been Disappointed, that was why she ran away with me, but she would never have told me that. She never said a word she thought might hurt me. It wasn't for my money, for I had little enough then, but she never complained. But she never quite felt at home with my friends and their wives. Oh, you wouldn't have known it from her manner -- I knew it because I knew her, but she treated them all like kings and queens, like they were the only people she'd ever wanted to know, and they loved her for it. It's the one thing Tom doesn't have of hers, those manners, but there's no way he could have -- she died when he was a baby, poor lady, and he couldn't look to me for that. But even so -- ever since he was a little lad he's had all her ways, and I could tell, I knew he was like her, that he'd never be at home with the people I know, good sorts but rough and not -- not the Quality. Not like Tom."
"Yes," Jon said quietly. "Tom is quality."
Tom's father laughed a little. "I know your people think they rooked me, think they put one over on the old man. Not the businessman people say I am, they think, or mayhap I was just so greedy for a title I forgot myself." Jon flushed a little, as that, dressed up in fancier language, was exactly what his attorney had said to him. "But I had a reason to be so open-handed. I wanted to make sure you didn't get away. Not your title, but you - I'd made my inquiries, I wouldn't send my boy to just anyone. I knew you'd be a good man, you'd be good to him. Not like that other one," he said with a scowl. "That was a bad business, and it was what made up my mind. Wouldn't have happened if Tom had had someone to look out for him, I can't do it, not properly among people like you, I don't know your ways. Not that I'm saying there was anything to it," he said quickly, looking over at Jon. "Bunch of gossip and lies, all of it. Tom wouldn't do anything he shouldn't."
"No," Jon said. "I know Tom would never do anything dishonorable." This, too, was true. Oh, older people, his aunt and her like, might have disagreed, might have been shocked and scandalized, but Jon was younger and free-thinking and had been called on several occasions, to his delight, a Romantic. He found nothing but honor in anyone who would throw themselves into love, throw everything away for it, even if it wasn't returned.
Perhaps it was something in Jon's voice, or perhaps the old man was just tired of talking, but he clapped his hands together suddenly and said, "Well, that's enough of that. You'll be eager to be away from here, my lord. It was a nice talk but you needn't worry I'll be bothering you again. I'm thinking your attorney was right; it's better for Tom to make a clean break, for his new life. I wouldn't want to embarrass him, or you, don't you worry. I'm fine on my own, work keeps me busy, and Tom's letters are a treat. It was nice to see you but don't worry you'll have me on your hands. I know my place."
As he listened to the old man reassure him, Jon was suddenly tired of feeling guilty. Oh, he had every reason to, he knew. He might not have told his attorney to keep Tom's father away but he hadn't told him not to, either, and he certainly had never asked Tom how the old man was doing, or if Tom saw him. Jon was tired of feeling guilty so he decided to do something.
"I'm sorry to have to bring this up," Jon said in his best superior manner, "but I'm afraid you've forced me to it." Tom's father looked at him with some fear, and Jon would have felt guilty about that too if he hadn't known what was coming next. "It's most uncomfortable for me to have to accuse another man of rudeness, but I'm afraid I have no choice."
"I'm sure I'm sorry, my lord --" but Jon spoke over him.
"Tom and I have been married quite a time now, and still you have not paid us a courtesy call. It's shocking, is what I call it, and I'm afraid my feelings are hurt almost beyond repair."
"I was told you wouldn't want --" Tom's father said, but he was starting to smile.
"Almost beyond repair, I say. The only remedy I can think of for it is for you to dine with us as soon as we're back in town, two days from now."
"Are you sure, are you sure it won't --"
"The only remedy, and if I do not see you there then I'll know the slight is intended. I'm not sure what I might be forced to do then, sir. I might have to call you out."
Tom's father laughed at that, and called Jon a bold lad, which Jon found he rather liked. He took his leave, leading Tom's ugly dog by the ostentatious leash, and headed home.
In the street he remembered he'd ridden in from the country. He could call a hack, he supposed, but they wouldn't like the look of the dog and besides, he was in a hurry. He took the dog in his arms, squirming and barking, and rode away as quickly as he could, treating the people of London to a free spectacle, which by all appearances they enjoyed a little too much.
It was too late to head back to the country tonight, so he went to his house to change and dine. His butler relieved him of the dog with a look Jon couldn't face, and announced that he intended to give it a bath. Jon hurriedly decided to dine out.
On his way to his club Jon made a resolution. He had been a negligent husband, he realized, though his intentions had been good. He had told himself he was doing the right thing by leaving Tom alone, but he realized now that it had also been the easy thing. Tom had been negligent too, of course, in not telling Jon what he wanted, in demanding nothing, but Tom had an excuse. He had a broken heart. Jon had - well, he had no excuse, he told himself firmly. Perhaps there was no cure for a broken heart, but it couldn't be good for anyone to dwell in the past. All of that was over for Tom. From now on he and Jon must look to the future. Perhaps it wouldn't be what either of them would have chosen once, but it could be something better than it had been. It could be something good.
[vi. the return]