A Collection of Stories

A Marriage Deal

The cool air of autumn rushed about, whistling through the trees, brush and crevices like a merry child, exploring every nook and cranny along the exposed wall of the clifftop on which the sad-looking couple sat. They weren't your basic idea of a couple, for they were more or less strangers than anyone, having only seen each other about for a few months, rarely engaging in conversation or any other form of intimacy. But there was something between the two, something that, with a simple word, look, or gesture, had bound them in a modest frame of understanding. And they found themselves at last sharing their difficulties one quiet afternoon; the woman with pencil and pad and a sad look in her round eyes and the man with a cigarette between his fingers, his pleasant face careworn and distant.

"It's the only chance we've got," she was saying, her steady hand shading a bit of the sky on her pad. "The family's nearly lost everything and I have to do what I can to keep them afloat." Her companion blew smoke from his nose and, for a moment, she watched the lonely cloud dissipate in the air. She wondered if she could catch his profile in perfect detail. She turned a page on her pad.

"And by keeping them afloat, you mean slaving away for that dreadful woman, Eastbourne," he said in a tone of mixed scolding and sympathy. She snatched at the former.

"Mrs. Eastbourne pays handsomely, Mr. Cartwright. And no, she may not be the most pleasant woman of my acquaintance, but I need and am utterly grateful for the compensation she affords me."

He turned a languid gaze upon her.

"To be called 'a witlessly idiotic waif' in company must be quite natural, if not wholly acceptable, when in employment, then?"

She coloured and pressed down on her pencil. The lead snapped. He reached into his coat and withdrew another.

"Your cause is a noble one, Miss Pearson, and I'll confess you have some grit about you. To bear such insults as gracefully as you have is commendable, but..." he handed her the pencil, "I believe you've gotten more than you bargained for."

"Well, when you've got one sister with a no-good-doer for a husband, and another eager for society, a blind mother and a ruthless aunt willing to pull the house and farm from beneath you," she said with a glare, "what else can one do? I must support the family-it's all I can do!"

Silence ensued for a moment, each individual occupied with their own thoughts.

"Marry me."

"Nonsense."

The man shrugged.

"Perhaps... shall I get down on one knee for a more favourable answer?"

"Absolutely not, Mr. Cartwright! Besides, I have much distaste for such nonsense as romantic proposals. They make me feel queer."

Mr. Cartwright gave a hearty laugh.

"You are an odd one, Miss Pearson, indeed you are! But pray why did I receive your disfavour?"

She looked up from her work, surprised to find him so serious.

"Consider the absurdity of your petition, Mr. Cartwright! We know nothing of one another besides what we've just shared. I'm odd and plain with riotous ties for family and you're respectable, boring, and completely dissatisfied with everything! We'd be horrid!"

"That is true, in one case, but so is the fact that we both wish to please our families to some extent. We are both dissatisfied with life and the people about us... we can help one another."

She set her work aside.

"I'm listening."

Mr. Cartwright interlaced his fingers.