Husband Wanted (HC #1)

2: A List in the Dining Room

They returned to their home in the late afternoon, and Beth dragged her thoroughly exhausted person upstairs. The poor little girl had been very unwell, but by the time the doctor left she was sleeping somewhat comfortably. That had soothed her parents, but so too had the conversation between them and Simon, outlining that they might lower their rent if they were happy to be responsible for less land.

Now, Beth let out a sigh, happy to find her maid had already called for a bath to be drawn. She undressed and sank beneath the waters, reflecting on what had been an unexpected and somewhat tumultuous day. She felt accomplished.

But she also felt undeniably nervous.

Although the thought of her brothers' assistance in the marriage mart was comforting, it did little to assuage her fear that she still might not find a husband. It would be almost embarrassing to die a spinster when she came from all she did; a titled, wealthy family of good repute. But that wasn't all. She wanted the life marriage promised; children and a household to manage.

Perhaps if she had a profession or responsibilities she wouldn't have so much time to wish for a spouse. Her brothers clearly didn't! All four were of a legal and appropriate age to marry, but not one of them had so much as glanced at an altar. And yet here she was hoping for the day.

Eventually she dragged herself from the tub, dressing with the assistance of her lady's maid, before ambling down to dinner. She popped her head into Phil's room as she passed, checking the girl was settling in for the night. She was sitting upright in bed, a thick book resting in her lap and a candle flickering by her elbow. A quick glance around the room revealed her governess stretched out in the corner, frowning even in her sleep.

Beth sighed, drawing her sister's attention. "They've begun, you know," she said, closing the book softly and pushing it to the spare side of her bed.

Her sister moved to her. "I beg your pardon?" In lieu of the governess, she flicked her hand at the girl until she slid down in the bed, letting Beth pull the covers up to her chin.

"The list."

"What li-" Beth stilled. A wave of butterflies roiled through her stomach. "Oh." She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, trying to remind herself that this was what she wanted.

"Why do you want a husband?"

The question seemed to come straight out of Beth's own thoughts, and she issued a burst of awkward laughter. Miraculously, the governess did little more than shift in her chair.

"What an odd question, Phil!"

"Will you love him?" the girl pressed, her frown intent.

She hoped so. Aloud she said, "There are many different types of love."

It wasn't an answer, but Phil was distracted enough not to notice her hedging. Her next question came quietly. "Did Mother and Father love each other?"

Beth blinked down at her in surprise, her mouth slightly ajar. It was such a simple question, but such a clear reminder of what their youngest sibling had missed out on. "From the moment they laid eyes on each other," she said gently, swallowing down the vague suggestion of tears that welled in the back of her throat. She brushed a free wisp of hair behind Phil's ear. "And until the very last moment – you're proof of that." And indeed she was. Although Matt was the closest to Phil in age, there was still eleven years between them. Beth had always taken Phil's existence as a happy miracle, and an indication that their parents were still fond of each other after so many years of marriage.

She cleared her throat. "Now, enough of that. You must go to sleep, and I must go rein in our brothers."

Phil cast her a look that wished her luck, but grudgingly rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. Beth rose, extinguished the candle, and exited her sister's room. Then she stood in the corridor with her back pressed against the wall and mustered her courage. It was silly, she knew, to be so frightened of a simple list, but it was important. Her future husband might be named that very evening. Or even worse, he might not.