Page 6 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

Theo inhaled sharply. “Harold agrees?” That was a blow. The fourth partner in their business and the man she … admired more than any other, agreed her rightful place was in the kitchen? She was reeling.

Felix nodded. “Without you and Hetty drawing a wage, that will free up some money too,” he said, unconsciously revealing that she was also to be an unpaid drudge. When words failed her, he awkwardly patted her shoulder. “I know it is not … the stuff of dreams, old girl,” he said with determined cheer, “but we are not all destined to be stars. Some of us must eke out an existence on the stage of life. Your contribution will still be appreciated, and you will always have a place at my table.”

Theo’s chest heaved. The house belonged to the three Fields siblings, not just Felix. Harold lodged there in the attic, but he owned no part of the house. Before she could give utterance to the words that burned on her tongue, their arrival home rendered speech unnecessary. She would not have been able to find words in that moment, not even for a hundred pounds.

She was all alone, she realized bleakly. Betrayed by first her sister, and then by her brother. Even Harold had backstabbed her, she thought despairingly. Harold, who lent her his books and let her have first glance at his compositions. Her eyes welled up. Never again would she admire the sensitive turn of his countenance!

They had conspired together against her and decided she was unfit for the life she adored, the life she had grown up in. They had plotted to ensure she would never again grace the stage she had always considered her true home, more than this tall, narrow house on Juniper Row would ever be!

Well, they would be sorry, she vowed as she followed her brother up the path to the front steps. To add insult to injury, Felix had the nerve to look relieved, as though he had successfully navigated some ordeal and come out of the other side of it unscathed. He cared not a jot that he had thrust a knife through her bosom and done his level best to kill her dreams stone dead!

A domestic drudge, she seethed as the front door swung open and they walked into the gloomy passageway, wiping their feet on the mat. What did she know about planning meals and seeing the lamps were kept trimmed? She knew even less about scrubbing front steps and polishing floorboards, she thought, her spirits sinking by the minute.

Mrs. Cherwell had always had a woman come in twice a week to do the rough work, a Mrs. Hubble. Had Felix dismissed her too? Theo would not demean herself by asking. In fact, she would not speak again to Felix this evening, she vowed, or Hetty or even Harold. Shedding her bonnet and coat, she hurried upstairs to her solitary bedroom and threw herself down on her bed to bury her face in her pillow.

Well, she would have no consideration of their feelings in the future, that was all! She owed them no loyalty, she thought fiercely. She only hoped they would remember their conduct toward her for the rest of their days and come to feel sorry for it! Wiping away the tears that rolled silently down her cheeks, Theo finally gave vent to her overwhelming grief in smothered sobs.

*

The next morning at breakfast, Theo’s eyes were dry, if a little red-rimmed. Noticing Mrs. Cherwell’s grim expression as she banged the tea tray down on the table, she guessed their housekeeper was seething as much as she at the recent developments. Theo glanced toward her brother and sister to see if they had noticed the venomous glares the housekeeper was directing toward the head of the table.

It was true that Felix looked a little flustered as he helped himself to toast from the rack. Certainly, he was studiously avoiding looking at the housekeeper, now employed in slamming small bowls of jam and butter onto the table. Disappointingly, Henrietta’s attention was fixed on a letter she was reading, and she seemed oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

At this point, the door opened, and Harold Allsop entered the room in his usual apologetic manner with a murmured “Good morning” to all. Mrs. Cherwell’s militant expression softened, and she pulled out a chair for the latecomer, bustling about to pour his tea and nudge the condiments toward him. Women usually rallied around Harold. He had a sort of sweet and helpless look.

Theo’s lips flattened into a thin line, and she felt the strangest impulse to inform the housekeeper that Harold had also agreed with the household changes. After all, when you thought about it, he was no better than Felix, she thought bitterly. His inoffensive, mild manner clearly hid a propensity for treachery.

Feeling Harold’s mournful gaze directed her way several times through breakfast, Theo stiffened her resolve and refused to look at the duplicitous wretch. Usually, she would be all smiles at this point, cheerfully asking him his plans for the day and telling him hers. This morning she pursued no such camaraderie.

Instead, she drank her tea in silence and ate half a slice of dry toast before realizing she had not buttered it. Smearing it liberally with damson jam, her least favorite but the closest one to her, she finished her breakfast and withdrew from the table without further comment.

Sadly, she could not flatter herself that either Felix or Henrietta had even noticed her manner was off. Felix had been frowning over something he was scrawling on his napkin with a small pencil. It had looked rather like sums, and Theo wondered if he was calculating what he would gain by denying wages to the three women in the room.

For her part, he would not be saving much, she reflected, as he paid her the merest pittance. She would not be remotely surprised to learn he paid far more to their housekeeper than he ever did her. She slowly climbed the wooden stair and pictured herself delivering tea and toast to her brother and Harold in the future, as they ignored her presence and discussed theatre business.

Henrietta would be living in some more fashionable residence by that point and would have left Juniper Row far behind her. As wife of the honorable Matthew, she would likely have a handful of servants to do her bidding and mercifully would not require her own sister to wait on her.

Theo maintained her coolness with her family by remaining in her room for the rest of the morning. Not that she flattered herself that either of her siblings would have noticed her avoiding them. They were entirely self-absorbed these days, she reflected indignantly.

She knew for a fact that if the roles were reversed, she would have been anxious to seek out the bone of contention. In the old days, Hetty at least would have perceived any change in her manner. The sisters had been close once upon a time. When had that changed? Theo pondered the matter as she cut out the pattern pieces for a new dress. Alas, she could find no easy answer.

She was not required to attend any rehearsal or read-throughs today as Felix had made it quite clear she would not be a part of the next production. As such, her day was hers to do as she wished with it, until she was required at the evening performance of The Faithful Shepherdess.

At elevenish, she opened her bedroom door and left it ajar to listen for the slamming of the front door signaling her siblings’ departure. Sure enough, she heard the sounds of conversation in the hallway, followed by the sound of a closing door.

Theo hurried onto the landing and peered out of the window to see Felix and Hetty setting forth down the garden path in their outdoor things. She turned and ran up the next flight of stairs to the third floor where Felix’s bedroom was situated along with a bathroom and her late uncle’s room.

Once inside the large green wallpapered room, she headed straight for his wardrobe, ignoring the piles of books stacked vertically at various points and the cluttered desk which was absolutely covered in papers and bottles of ink. Even Felix’s sternest critic could not deny he had a strong work ethic.

She opened the right-hand door to his armoire and, ignoring the garments to the left, where his current favorites resided, she selected instead a brown Newmarket coat and a pair of trousers in a light beige that she had not seen Felix wear in an age. Possibly they were too snug on him nowadays, for the legs were very narrow-fitting and they had loops at the feet to keep them smooth and prevent them from riding up.

Casting these onto a chair, she rifled next through his shirts, waistcoats, and neckcloths. None of these were terribly inspiring for Felix was a reserved dresser who believed the more understated a man’s attire, the better. She would have loved a paisley or a tartan waistcoat, but sadly had to settle for one of somber dark green instead.

Luckily, she and her brother were much the same height, for she was tall for a woman at five foot ten, whereas her brother was only middling for a man. However, shoes would be a problem. Felix’s feet were at least three sizes bigger than her own. She pondered this a moment, staring down at his black and brown boots. She would slip and slide around in them as though they were clown shoes, she thought sadly, biting her lip.

The shoes she currently wore on stage were no good, for they were flimsy opera slippers and would look ridiculous with daywear. She would just have to stuff the toes with newspaper, she decided, and helped herself to the brown boots, tucking them under her arm. Hopefully, Felix would not notice, for currently he was mostly seen sallying forth in shades of black and gray. She had not seen him in his brown boots for a good while.

She was just closing his bedroom door behind her when Mrs. Cherwell loomed up out of the shadows, clearing her throat. “What you a-doing of with them there clothes, Miss Theodora?” she asked disapprovingly.