Page 112 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

“How was your performance today?” Hetty asked. “Did it go well?” At Theo’s nod, her sister tipped her head to one side. “Vincent tells me you are wildly successful at music hall.”

“It has all worked out beautifully,” Theo admitted with a smile, then instantly wondered if that was tactless. Hetty did not seem to take it amiss though, merely nodding and looking thoughtful.

“I should like to see you perform,” she said, quite knocking Theo for six.

“You would?”

“Oh yes. I mean to ask Vincent to take me. Maybe in a week or so.”

“Felix did mention the other day that he might come along,” Theo admitted.

“Perhaps we could make up a party,” Hetty suggested, quite winding her sister.

“Err yes …” Theo agreed weakly, before rallying. “Harold is currently playing accompaniment for Lil and I,” she said, feeling she ought to mention Lil, in case her sister was blissfully unaware of her new partner, but again Hetty only nodded.

“What a strange turn of events,” Henrietta murmured, turning her head to stare into the fire a moment. When she looked back, she seemed more substantial somehow. “I’d like to apologize now if you would let me, Theodora.”

“Apologize?”

Hetty’s cheeks grew a little warmer in tone. “I am mortified when I recollect the things I said to you the day before I left. Simply mortified. I was so … smug, so pompous, so secure in my certainty that I alone knew best.” She lapsed into silence a moment before continuing.

“I really had no notion I was about to get my comeuppance, and how my whole world was about to come crashing down about my ears.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “When I remember the words I said to you most of all, sister, I die a little on the inside.” She fell silent a moment.

“That was why I could not approach you even on my return. I took lodgings instead and kept trying to work up the nerve to beg your forgiveness, but I was too much a coward. I cannot tell you the number of times I walked up to this house and then turned about again, my heart failing me.” She covered her eyes a moment. “I am so sorry for everything, Theodora. Will you accept my apology? I offer it with my whole heart.”

Theo made a quick gesture with her hands. Part of her was tempted to say “Don’t think of it, put it out of your mind” or to just deny how much her sister’s words had impacted her. Instead, she decided honesty was the best policy.

“I shall not lie; it hurt a lot at the time,” she said instead. “I felt like a part of me died also in that moment.” She blinked back the tears which surprised her by springing into her eyes. “Fortunately, the part that died turned out to be a part that had been holding me back all along.”

Hetty bowed her head, remaining silent. Theo sighed and continued, “Shortly after your departure, I endured a most humiliating ride in a hackney with Felix, where he finally let me in on the plan for my future.”

Hetty winced. “That must have added insult to injury,” she murmured.

“I think I lost my head a little,” Theo admitted, “for it was at that point that I started plotting and scheming for myself.” She met her sister’s eye full on. “I do forgive you, Hetty,” she said holding out her hand. Henrietta clasped it in a surprisingly firm grip. “You are my sister and I love you,” Theo continued calmly. “Let us put that whole business behind us now.”

Hetty nodded and Theodora returned her smile, starting to feel optimistic that, after all, everything was going to turn out for the best.

*

If Clem had been struggling before, with keeping his marriage on an acceptable footing, then the arrival of a third Fields sibling at the premises made everything ten times worse. The first thing he realized was that the sisters were closer than he had appreciated. He had liked being Dora’s closest person and he did not appreciate that her sister was now muscling into that territory.

It was also a cursed nuisance having her in the room next door. Dora was a married woman now and the sitting room was their private sitting room. He did not want Henrietta Fields waltzing in there whenever she saw fit. As it happened, Dora’s sister seemed to appreciate this fact more than his wife and was highly discreet. He caught only a few fleeting glimpses of her over the next few days, for which he was profoundly grateful.

Still, it did not alleviate the first and foremost concern he had which was that Henrietta could let slip at any time the fact he had purchased her shares in The Parthenon. Indeed, she might impart this fact without any mischievous intent at all. She might genuinely imagine that Theo had been apprised of the fact her husband now owned fifty percent.

At the end of the day, Clem knew he should have found a way to broach this subject already. He should have, but he had not. He still did not want to admit as much, where his wife was concerned. His marriage had not really operated on the lines he had imagined it would from the very beginning.

As such, he retreated fast from any disastrous detail his wife wanted to confide in him about her sister’s return. She was aching to lay it all out before him and get his opinion on the matter. That much was blatantly obvious, and he just did not want that. Indeed, he would go to great lengths to avoid it.

Not wanting to encourage her confidences, Clem resolved to pull back hard, withdrawing from Dora in every which way he possibly could. To his astonishment, he found this extraordinarily difficult. He started taking brandy after dinner with Fields and Allsop in the front parlor and lingering there for as long as he could stand it.

To his annoyance, Fields’ only topic of conversation proved to be The Parthenon, which Clem found himself surprisingly uninterested in, or his sisters, which was Clem’s current sore spot. Allsop seemed similarly disinclined to discuss The Parthenon, which surprised Clem, for did he not also own a quarter share? Yet it was music hall that Allsop spoke of, when he spoke of anything at all.

He talked of it with a stammering enthusiasm you could not mistake. “It’s f-fascinating to get a glimpse into the splendor and the squalor of working-class entertainment,” he had said one evening and then blushed very red. “I can’t tell you how much it means to a chap, when you hear your own tune whistled by a working man going about his day.”

Fields had exchanged raised brows with Clem. “You met a woman there or something?” he asked outright and Allsop had been reduced to almost stammering incoherence.

“N-nothing of the s-sort! Though there are several ladies there who I admire very m-much,” he protested.