Miles Before I Sleep (4 page)

3

Four years later.

Andrea moved past the crates piled high in the corridor to the library. She never imagined a house could be as disorganized as theirs. Deciding the best course of action to stay out of the way of the servants, would be to seek refuge in the library with a book. Hopefully, reading a novel would also keep her mind off her misgivings about moving. Her mother insisted that they move to the prestigious Mayfair section of London, so they would be exactly where they needed be for her debut. Andrea had one more year at Miss Whitecott’s school before her mother foisted her into society.

As always, Andrea’s insecurities revolved around being accepted. She had no doubt that her mother’s wish that she marry a man with a title would come to fruition. Her father’s wealth could easily sustain any family for generations, and there were many nobles who needed more than a dowry to sustain them.

Girls at school all seemed to dream of a love match. Andrea had no illusions of the men who would be vying for her hand. The only love they would have for her would be for her ample dowry and inheritance. Her only expectation of them was a title. It had been drummed into her head as long as she could remember. The new house in London was paramount to the success of Lillian’s scheme. Andrea felt the pressure placed upon her shoulders, its weight nearly paralyzing her. Although Andrea did not know the exact figure, she knew her father had spent a fortune on the new house and her mother, to hear Sebastian good-naturedly complaining, had spent a comparable amount refurbishing and furnishing it. All this so Andrea could marry advantageously.

The house had been neglected for at least two decades by an impoverished earl and it would probably take the carpenters and masons at least another year to complete the restoration of the house built in the late 1660s after the great fire. However, after six months’ toil, the interior of the house was finally ready for its inhabitants.

Andrea sighed. She honestly felt the whole matter smacked of overindulgence and would undoubtedly be viewed exactly for what it was—Lillian James’s latest attempt to ingratiate herself into the upper echelon. At seventeen, Andrea could no more understand the difference a man’s social status made, any more than she could at thirteen. Her father had millions, yet socially, he was still considered working class—a distinction she really did not think her father minded. Sebastian James, with his sardonic wit, had put great thought into naming his company the James
Common
Shipping Company. It was those common roots and common values that made him wealthy and the name seemed to stick in the craw of many a noble man.

As Andrea diligently searched for something frivolous to read, she noticed a handful of letters on the floor next to her father’s desk. They appeared to have been accidentally knocked off the desk while her father had been going over his bookkeeping. As Andrea bent to pick up the letters, her attention was drawn to her name written on the fold of a page that was slightly protruding from an envelope. Curiosity got the better of her and she removed the sheets of paper from the envelope, immediately turning to the last page to see who sent it. Richard O’Shea. At first, the name meant nothing to her, but as soon as she spotted the New York postmark, she remembered the young man she had danced with in America. His name was O’Shea. Although she had never recalled his first name, she was sure it was something undeniably Irish, not Richard. As she read, it soon became apparent that the writer was the father of the younger man.

Dear Mr. James,

It was truly an honor to meet you and Mrs. James during your visit to New York two years ago. Obviously, I am quite flattered that you should remember my son and me. To say that Shamus reminds you of yourself at his age is high praise indeed, and I thought about keeping that part of your letter from him, so your words would not go to his head.

He is indeed as single-minded as he was when you met him, and often speaks of your visit and ways to expand our business.

The unexpected merger you suggested was quite thought provoking. I know it is commonplace in many societies to arrange marriages but here it is rare.

Although I did not meet your daughter, Shamus remembers Andrea vividly—though in truth, getting him to say anything about their meeting is a little bit like pulling teeth. He would only say he danced with her at the ball given in your honor. When I have tried to pin him down about whether he would be amenable, he would not commit one way or the other until he has more details.

While I think the boy will warm to the idea, I think he does not understand why you chose him.

                                          Sincerely,

                                          Richard O’Shea

“Dear heavens,” Andrea breathed, barely able to take her eyes from the page. Why couldn’t it be the other one, Miles Huntington? At least he was handsome. It was just her luck that it was the short, redheaded toad, Shamus O’Shea.
Shamus
? she puzzled. She hadn’t remembered his first name, but somehow it didn’t sound right. Yet how could she deny it, she had only danced with two men; one was Miles Huntington so the other had to be Shamus O’Shea. The word
single-minded
certainly described the bore.

Andrea took a deep breath to keep herself from panicking. “Andrea,” she said aloud to herself. “There is no reason to get worried yet. No one has agreed to anything.”

Surely, her father would not force her into a marriage with a
foreigner
. She realized the letter was at least two years old.  Since her father had not curtailed her mother’s plans for her debut in any way, Andrea assumed that nothing became of his inquiry. If Papa had made arrangements with these Americans, he would have said something to her.

Andrea’s thoughts drifted to her mother. Lillian would simply never agree to it. Andrea would grow old waiting for a blue-blooded husband before Lillian allowed such a tragic marriage.

Slowly, she released her breath, feeling the tension in her chest ease slightly, but just as relief curled one corner of her mouth upwards, she saw more letters with the same small, weak-looking scrawl. One by one, Andrea opened the letters reading each in the order it was written.

Dear Mr. James,

Thank you for getting back with us so quickly.

I’m afraid I wasn’t clear in my previous letter. It was not a question of a dowry of which Shamus wanted details, for frankly, a bridal settlement is rarely done here, and certainly unnecessary, as we have been successful in our own right. It is more a question of particulars: he is rather concerned about her age.

I have to admit, I did not realize she was so young, and that is a concern for me as well.

I still have not managed to get an answer from him, but I think he is warming to the idea, because after our conversations, I see him grinning. He is not as impulsive as he was two years ago when you met him. It is odd how responsibility can either mature a man or show his true nature—much like cream separating from milk. I have to admit I cannot be more proud of Shamus—but I always have been. I suspect you must have seen the same quality in him that I see, if you are offering your daughter to him in marriage, and all that goes with it. I thank the Lord every day for having his mother and him in my life. It is a comfort to know that Shamus and his sons will carry on the legacy that Miles Sr. and I began.

It must be difficult to know the custody of your empire (and one must indeed refer to such vast holdings as an empire) will go to the hands of a son-by-marriage.

I have to admit concerns that our own small business (small only in comparison to yours, as I am proud of its size and growth, truthfully) will be swallowed up and forgotten in a merger. If any man is up to the task, I am sure it is my son. Still I worry. Thankfully, you and I will be around for many years to come before we hand over the reins completely.

                                          Sincerely,

                                          Richard O’Shea

Dear Sebastian,

After your last letter, Shamus has finally consented to the betrothal. He was much relieved to hear that you wish to wait until Andrea is of a more mature age. A distant cousin of mine married off his fourteen-year-old daughter about two years ago. The girl was ill prepared and came home within weeks. To this day, she and her child do not live with her husband. It would be impolite to do the math, but I suspect the couple had little choice when it came to a trip to the parish priest.

As I said, we are relieved to hear, you wish to wait years. It gives both Andrea and Shamus time to get used to the idea of getting married to one another. Do you suppose we should get them together in the interim to see if they suit?

                                          Richard

Dear Sebastian,

Yes, I am Catholic, but my wife is Protestant, Baptist to be exact. We were married in her church and the boy was raised according to his mother’s wishes. Trust me when I say, my family raised the same concerns when I married outside our faith. I hope this puts to rest your worries—but if it is too much to overcome, I will not hold you to it—after all, we have only just begun discussions, and certain things would, no doubt, be agreement-enders for both of us.

                                          Richard

Dear Sebastian,

There is never a good way to break bad news, but I want to inform you that my wife has passed away. It was unexpected, and needless to say, as we lay my dearest Catherine to rest, Shamus and I are quite lost without her.

I am afraid we will have to postpone our visit indefinitely, as neither of us would be fit company at this time.

                                                        Richard

Dear Sebastian,

Thank you so much for your sympathies and prayers. Yes, I believe you are correct that a year of mourning would be appropriate before any more steps towards marriage are taken—though I suspect you needed little prompting to postpone telling your wife of our agreement. I was surprised that she still knows nothing about it, and I am assuming Andrea is also ignorant of her betrothal. I think Shamus was rather taken aback. He assumed the girl was aware and agreeable to the situation. I believe he would prefer you inform the rest of your family posthaste, before any more time has passed.

                                          Richard

Dear Sebastian,

I laughed aloud when I read your letter. Yes, I agree our fairer halves do have ways of letting us know when we displease them. My beloved Catherine, was the same. I can understand why you would like to approach them after Andrea and Shamus have met again, but it also seems a bit cruel to let them believe that Andrea shall have a season when you do not intend her to have one.

Maybe we have been too hasty. Shamus wonders if perhaps you should allow her to cast her net to see what happens. He is young still and says waiting an additional year will not hurt him. Although we do not discuss it much between your letters, I think he is pleased with the match. However, should the betrothal fall through, I do not think he would be overwrought; after all, it is not as if he fell in love during their single dance. He is concerned for her happiness as much as he is for his own, and as discussed earlier, the fairer sex has many ways to make our lives miserable if they are displeased with us.

                                          Richard

Dear Sebastian,

I am sorry. I had no idea you felt so strongly about the possibility of a titled gentleman marrying your daughter, but I certainly see your point.

You are no doubt correct that she will have multiple proposals by impoverished nobility. It would be impossible to know ahead of time, which ones might be willing to work and take over, and which will want to squander away what you have worked for so hard.

I understand completely why you have come to us.

Perhaps if you will explain this to your wife and daughter with the same passion you have explained it to me, they will understand your reasons. I cringed when you referred to your wife as a social climber, as I am sure her ambitions are not as blatant as that. Surely, it is more a sense that your own standing in society is comparable to theirs. However, if it is true, I hate to think what she will think of us lowly Americans. Please, tell me your daughter is more of a mind with you than with her mother.

Although I would like to set a date for us to visit so we can get this settled, we are currently expanding and I know Shamus is not going to let one moment of the build pass without his supervision. He would not want me to tell you this, but I think he hopes to impress you.

Perhaps you would like to come here and visit us again. I expect our expansion shall be lengthy, as the builders tell us it shall take a full year and a half to complete. Of course, builders always say how long, and they never come in on time or on budget, but I am sure you know that already. I am expecting it to be completed in two and a half years, which will not give Andrea and Shamus an opportunity to meet again before your proposed wedding date.

                                          Richard

Dear Sebastian,

Then I would say it is all settled. My son says he remembers Andrea well enough to agree and does not require a meet with her. He only suggested it for her benefit. As he remembers her, she was malleable to your wishes. When he said so, I could not bring myself to point out a thirteen-year-old is much easier to be brought to heel than a young woman.

                                          Richard

Dear Sebastian,

Let me first apologize for my unfortunate choice of words. I did not mean to infer that Shamus would in any way try to dominate your daughter. I just meant that she would be older, and have formed views that may contradict one’s opinions and wishes—whereas a child may be less willful.

I can assure you, I have never seen my son be anything but respectful when he deals with young ladies.

                                          Richard

Dear Sebastian,

No, of course Shamus is no longer courting other women. He has not actively courted anyone since the betrothal was agreed upon. He felt it was not fair to toy with a woman’s affections when he knew he was promised to another. He does, however, keep a mistress. When I confronted him about her, he insisted he plans to give her up before they wed. And before you object to him having a mistress currently, you must remember what it was like to be that age. Also remember that it has been close to two years since he first agree to the betrothal, and still has another year to go. You could hardly expect him to live as a monk, while he waits for her to become of a marrying age.

I know keeping a mistress may seem contrary, but no one wants their wedding night to be memorable for the wrong reasons.

                                          Richard

Andrea sat there in stunned silence. When was he going to tell her? When was he going to tell her mother? The whole point of moving to London was for her to find a husband.

What was she going to do?

Andrea put the letters back in order and dropped them on the floor where she found them.

She sat there an interminable amount of time, staring at the handwriting on the envelopes. How could her father to this to her? Did he care more for his business than for her? Apparently, she was to have no say in the matter.

For a moment, she resolved herself to the situation, then a provoking voice in her head said, “Don’t you have a mind of your own?” Miles Huntington’s taunt haunted her. Did she indeed have to let her father and possible future husband make her decisions for her? But what choice did she have?

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about their fathers discussing her wedding night. Thank God, that horrid little troll had a mistress to slake his lust. Perhaps if she suggested he keep her, maybe she would not have to endure her marital duties more often than necessary. A sweat broke out on her brow and her throat constricted with terror and nausea at the thought of Shamus O’Shea overcome with male vigor. Would he be as oblivious of her sensibilities as he had been when he droned on endlessly about warehouses? She had to wait for the feeling of sickness to pass before she could rise to her feet.

Completely forgetting about the book that had prompted her to visit the library, Andrea left the cavernous shelved room. As she propelled herself towards her bedroom, Andrea pulled back her shoulders and lifted her head high, as though it were a shield against the turmoil inside her. No one could know what she had just read, at least not until she knew some way to combat her problem. Her legs felt heavy as bricks as she lifted her feet from step to step.

“Andrea?”

Her spine stiffened at the sound of her mother’s well practiced voice at the landing below her.

“Yes, Mama?” Andrea replied, her voice more cultured than Lillian’s.

“Please, come back down.”

Andrea sensed her mother’s displeasure and slowly descending the stairs as regally as she had been taught. Could she have already found out about her discovery—did it show on her face?

“Yes, Mama?”

“That dress—isn’t that one of the dresses we had made for you at the beginning of the summer?”

“Is something the matter with it?” Andrea asked, looking down at herself.

“I should say so. I suppose the rest of your gowns are the same?” Lillian looked up in time to see the alarm in Andrea’s face. “Either your skirts are levitating or you’ve grown a few inches over the summer,” Lillian laughed, expecting the tension on her daughter’s face to dissipate. But Andrea made no indication that she even heard her. Reaching out, Lillian tilted her daughter’s head up until it was level. “I hope you stop growing soon or else we will be the same height.”

“Perhaps you should have married a dwarf,” Andrea said, shocking her mother, having never used such a tone before. “At least you had the luxury of choosing a man taller than you, which is a luxury I won’t get.”

Andrea turned, leaving the landing behind as she carried herself as grandly up the stairs as Queen Victoria, leaving Lillian staring at her daughter in shock.