"The rest: be damned." A.D. Aliwat, In Limbo

---- 

XVI.

The following weeks passed quickly, and the end of May drew nearer. The Season, of course, did not slow, and the endless procession of balls, soirees, garden afternoon teas, luncheons, and whist parties continued.

Unfortunately for Jem, his invitation to such events relied upon his sister's attending, and as Grace's pregnancy progressed, her strength and stamina waned. Though these functions were not the only place that Jem would have occasion to see Cressie.

Belle, the saint that she was, had continued to allow them both to use her shop as a rendezvous point. It was at Belle's shop where they could talk, albeit briefly, and where they could continually affirm their feelings for one another. This, all the sneaking around and longing, would all be worth it in the end when they could be together openly.

Jem had not merely spent the month of May pining, for he did have a responsibility to Adam. Not only was he dedicated to the vocation his brother-in-law provided, but he was determined that this income would facilitate his ability to marry. He was not stupid. He knew that he could not ask for a woman's hand without a home to give her or an income to support her.

Adam and Grace were both privy to Jem's clandestine meetings with Cressie, and whether they disapproved or not they kept to themselves. Both, however, wanted Jem to be successful in his pursuit.

Jem was not the only one in pursuit of Cressie Martin. Everett Delaney had publicly declared himself in pursuit of Miss Martin's hand shortly after Cressie's birthday. They were, essentially, courting. Though there could never have been a more one-sided affair in London's history than Mr Delaney's quest for Cressie's hand. At least, Jem needed to tell himself that constantly whenever he saw them together during the London evenings.

Cressie continually assured Jem that her mother would come around that Mrs Martin would understand eventually, but Jem felt as though there was a clock rapidly ticking on his time with Cressie if he did not act. He felt like he had already let her go with one hand when he had agreed to wait, and he was very quickly losing his grip on the other hand as they delayed.

As May came to a close, the decision was made for Adam and Grace to return to Ashwood to await the birth of their third child before it became too challenging for Grace to travel. Jem could never begrudge them this after everything that Grace had done to assist him in entering Society.

"I don't want you to return with us, Jem," Adam informed Jem from the seat behind his desk in the study. Jem sat across from him as he always did, a bevy of documents in between them.

Jem had not planned on returning with them. In fact, he had been thinking of reasons not to go since they had announced their departure at breakfast that morning. Perhaps his brother could not do without him and absolutely needed him to stay in his newlywed marital home for a month.

But Adam seemed to have other ideas.

"Oh?" replied Jem, completely intrigued.

"You have done excellent work for me since your training began," Adam complimented. "You and your brother share a penchant for numbers, it seems. I am fortunate, I know, to have your keen eye on my books."

"Thank you," Jem said gratefully.

"I am going to leave you in London for the remainder of the summer," Adam decided, "in charge as my House Steward. Officially. This title will grant you responsibilities over my household staff, and the butler will answer to you. This role will also pay you a salary of a hundred pounds per annum.

"When your experience grows, as does your age, I will want to raise you to be my Land Steward. This is the role that you have been working towards and is a serious undertaking in the running of an estate like Ashwood. You would be responsible for managing my farms, collecting rents, and ensuring that my estate remains profitable. When you are ready, it will be yours. You will have a house on my estate, and an annual income of three hundred pounds per annum."

Jem gripped the desk in front of him to hold himself steady. He could barely speak for shock. He had been working tirelessly towards this role for months. That income, while not a landed gentleman's income, was ten times that of what his father or sister had ever earned. And it was only the beginning. He had direction. He had a goal that Adam and laid out before him. In time he would rise to be Ashwood's Land Steward. He would have three hundred pounds and a house.

Jem would have an income and a house to offer.

"I would not give this to you had you not earned it, Jem, nor if I believed you were not capable. You are incredibly so." Adam seemed to chuckle to himself at the sight of Jem's shock. "But I know this is also what you needed. What are you waiting for, another man to swoop in? Go on then!" he encouraged, waving Jem away with his hands. "Don't do what I did and wait twelve years to wed the woman you love. Don't waste a minute. I would call you a fool."

"Right." Jem nodded his head and got to his feet, rather unsteady like a newborn fawn.

"If you're in need of a minister, I happen to know a good one who could unite you in holy macaroni." Adam laughed then, properly, slapping himself on the stomach at a joke only he understood.

Jem was too excited to think on it for more than a second. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

***

Jem knocked on the door of the Martin residence with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He had not made the same mistake of bringing chrysanthemums.

He was dressed in his Sunday best, in a new coat that artfully concealed the disproportionate length of his arms, and in shiny new boots that cleverly disguised his too long legs. He rather hoped that he looked like a smart young man, and not a boy who was still growing into his body.

Jem hope was necessary as inside he felt like a bumbling pile of sawdust.

The Martins' maidservant opened the door and Jem cleared his throat as he offered her a polite smile.

"Good afternoon," he greeted. "I have come to call upon Mrs Martin, please."

Would Cressie be angry with him that he had come to call without consulting her? Jem certainly hoped not. He hoped that she would understand this was what he had needed to do. He did not have any other choice. However unwanted the attentions of Mr Delaney were, she was still being pushed towards him. Jem needed to try.

"May I ask your name, sir, so I may relay the information to my mistress?"

Jem frowned slightly seeing as he had already called upon this house before. "My name is Jem Denham," he replied. "Please tell your mistress that I must speak with her."

The maid nodded, before saying, "Please wait here, Mr Denham." And then she promptly shut the door.

Jem did not want to feel disheartened that he was not invited inside, but it was hard not to be. He would persist, gripping the stems of his bouquet a little tighter.

The door suddenly swung open a few minutes later, and Jem was greeted by Cressie's frantic brown eyes. She practically leapt onto him, gripping hold of his arms with panicked fists.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"What do you think I am doing here?" Jem countered. "I am here to speak to your mother."

"I cannot believe you are being so contrary at a moment like this!" she stressed. "Mama needs time –"

"Your mother has had time, Cressie," Jem insisted, interrupting her. "We do not have any more time to give. I have to something to offer you now, something to offer her."

Cressie stepped back on her heels. "What?" she prompted.

Jem needed to be optimistic. "When she agrees, I will tell you."

Cressie's brows knitted together in worry as her eyes flicked around, clearly searching for an escape for him. She did not share his optimism, and Jem wondered if, subconsciously, she knew her mother would not come around on her own.

The door to the house opened wider, and Cressie and Jem were joined by Mrs Martin, who looked upon them both with an unreadable expression.

"Mama!" cried Cressie, jumping with surprise at her mother's sudden appearance. "I was just –"

"Go up to your bedroom, please, Cressida," Mrs Martin instructed calmly.

"But Mama –"

"Now," Mrs Martin said, this time more firmly.

Cressie bit down on her bottom lip, her worried brown eyes finding Jem once more. He wished that he could comfort her. He stupidly wished that he had not concealed his news from her only moments ago. It might have brought her some comfort in this moment.

Cressie obeyed her mother and disappeared inside. The moment she was gone, Mrs Martin said, "Please come in, Mr Denham."

"Thank you, Mrs Martin." Jem followed Mrs Martin inside and was led into the parlour, the room where he had fumbled his way through his first call what felt like an age ago.

Mrs Martin ordered tea and then invited Jem to sit down in an armchair. Before he did, he held out the bouquet of flowers to Mrs Denham.

"I have brought these for you, Mrs Martin." Jem was surprised at how evenly his voice was sounding considering his heart was erratically trying to escape his ribcage. He was surprised that Mrs Martin could not hear the beat of it when he opened his mouth. Lord, he hoped he did not begin sweating.

"How kind," remarked Mrs Martin delicately as she accepted the flowers, looking over them with an inquisitive eye.

"Irises and white lilies," he explained.

"I can see that, Mr Denham," replied Mrs Martin. "White lilies for purity of love, and irises for hope. You have been studying the language of flowers, it seems."

Jem nodded once as Mrs Martin delicately laid the bouquet down on the small table in front of her own chair. He took a breath. And then another. "I must thank you for seeing me. I understand that I have made choices in the past that have brought you grief and stress, and for that I am sorry."

Mrs Martin did not reply. But she listened. And she watched.

Jem placed his hands on his knees and cleared his throat. "Mrs Martin," he said, beginning again. "I have come here today to ..." It was too late. He was sweating. "I have come to ask you to ... I have come to ask for your daughter's hand so that we may be united in macaroni."

Jem froze just as Mrs Martin recoiled.

"Matrimony," he corrected. "I mean 'matrimony'. I wish for us to be united in matrimony, please forgive me. I don't know where that came from." Curse Adam. Bless him, then curse him.

Mrs Martin drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair rhythmically as she pondered what Jem had just said. She might had done this for a minute further, or an hour, Jem wouldn't have known. Every tap of her fingers was agonising.

"I thought this would happen. I was right," she seemed to say more to herself than to Jem. Mrs Martin's grey-green eyes settled on Jem, and to his agony, she looked sympathetic. "You are a boy, Mr Denham," she said pitifully. "I forgive you for your ridiculous behaviour with Cressida because it is what a child with no sense of the world would do." She sighed and shook her head. "If forgiveness is what you seek, you have it. For Cressida's hand, I must refuse."

"I am not a child," Jem responded indignantly. But if he was, what did that make Cressie? For he was older than her by a year!

Mrs Martin exclaimed a noise of impatience. "Where would you live?" she proposed. "How would you live? With what income?"

Jem swallowed his indignance and frustration and prayed he would speak clearly. He could answer these questions where Mrs Martin was expecting nothing. "Mrs Martin, I implore you to hear me. I have something to offer. The Duke of Ashwood has made me his House Steward and he has afforded me a good income. In time, he will raise me to be his Land Steward where I will be in possession of a house on the Ashwood estate, and an income of three hundred pounds a year. I can and will support Cressie."

"In time," repeated Mrs Martin in an almost condescending tone. She shook her head. "Mr Denham, do you hear yourself? My dear boy, say what you like, but you are a child! You are barely eighteen! You have not the circumstances nor the resources to marry anybody in good conscience! Let alone my daughter! You cannot yet support yourself, let alone a wife. And what of children? For they inevitably follow. How could you support a child? Would it live with your mother until you find yourself this house?"

No. Had Mrs Martin not heard him? He had an income! He would have a house. Of course, not immediately, but with his income, he would be able to afford to rent a small cottage for them until they could move onto the Ashwood estate. She so determined to dismiss him as a poor child that she would not listen.

"I have the circumstances to marry, Mrs Martin," Jem said insistently. "I just do not possess Mr Delaney's circumstances." Was a hundred pounds, three hundred pounds, not enough? Was it not more than Mrs Martin had now? Had she not been relying upon the generosity of friends, clergymen, Belle, to survive and make it through?

Jem saw the truth of his words in Mrs Martin's eyes. "You never could have Mr Delaney's circumstances, Mr Denham," she said sympathetically.

"Cressie doesn't love him," he snapped angrily. "She has told me repeatedly that all you desire is her happiness. Prove it to her. She loves me, as I love her. I will love her for the rest of my life."

Mrs Martin sighed exasperatedly. "Dear boy, your life has barely begun! Live! Go out into the world and experience it before deciding on a wife! In a year, five, ten! You will be in a better situation, and a young lady will appear who is lovely and amiable, and you will marry. But that young lady cannot be Cressie. I am sorry to disappoint you, but my word is final. I do not consent, and I do not give you my blessing. I beg you would take leave of this house now, and you do not call upon Cressida again."

----

I'm sorry, Jemmy :( What have I done?

*Okay, obligatory line about feeling bad done, onto the rest of the author's note*

Hahahaha no I'm kidding. I actually wrote this conversation between Jem and Mrs Denham about a year and a half ago when I first started planning this story. It was the first full bit of dialogue I wrote for this book, and it does make me sad to belittle my baby Jemmy even now that he does have a respectable career. Will it ever be enough?

I'm going in for surgery on Monday morning, so I'll see how I go with updates in the next week. If there's a delay, you know why! Wish me luck. I'm panicking lol. 

I also can't leave you without acknowledging the utter disgrace that happened in the US Supreme Court today. I can't imagine how many of you are hurting and are worried and stressed and feeling your rights be snatched from you. I couldn't believe it. I'm disgusted and furious, and I wish I could offer my home as a safe haven for anyone needing a place to stay when they needed to access their right to healthcare. I hope you all remain safe, and please exercise your right to vote in people who support your right to choose at the next election! 

I've had people criticise me before about being "too political" but I don't care. What another person with a uterus does with their body is not anyone's business, but I certainly will fight for their right to choose.

I usually end my author's notes with "vote and comment", but I'll just ask you to vote in your next election xx