Chapter Eight

In October, Judy suspected she was expecting again. She wanted to feel elated, but underlying dread teased away any joy. She didn't trust her own body, doubting her ability to carry this child to term. She could taste failure like a fur on her tongue every morning. She waited for blood to spill, her expectation of disappointment and disaster rising with every day that passed. With her condition came an overwhelming exhaustion. In the middle of the day, great waves of tiredness rolled over her. Her limbs ached. Tears rolled down her cheeks at odd times — it might be a smell, a jarring noise, a turn in the weather, Nancy's girl, Phebe, loitering in the hallway, Dick's clothes discarded without care — her nerves were taut, waiting for the pregnancy to fail. Dick seemed to understand. He was gentle and genuinely moved when she told him her news. He withdrew from their room to allow her to gain what little sleep she could. He encouraged her to let more of the household management fall to Nancy.

An argument broke out over Mr. Tucker's wedding. Dick's stepfather was re-marrying. Lelia Skipwith was by all accounts a prettily behaved woman — a widow, with two young children of her own. The wedding would take place in Williamsburg. Dick approved the match and Theo, back from Bermuda, would be there. Nancy begged and implored, but Judy refused to make the journey. She couldn't risk the jolts and bumps of a long carriage drive. Voices were raised but Judy was immovable. Dick went alone, and the two sisters passed the days in tense silence.

Not for the first time, Judy wished Dick had never thought of bringing Nancy to Bizarre. Oh, she was helpful enough, but Aunt Page was right. What were Nancy's plans? What was her future? Father was unlikely to approve of Theo as a suitor, not with his poor health and prospects. Even Jack, odd as he was, lacked neither brains nor ambition. Theo, on the other hand? Judy shook her head. Alone in her room, she lay on her bed with her hands on her abdomen. The baby was her focus. Nancy's help would be invaluable in the coming months. She should stay for now. At least until the child was a few months old. Then, perhaps Aunt Page or Molly would take her on.

Judy muttered a prayer for the health of the life growing inside her. Please, God, let her have a healthy child. A son for Dick. An heir for Bizarre. Please, God, let that not be too much to ask for. Please.

* * *

Nancy's spirits lifted when Dick returned with Theo. Judy spent the evening downstairs, a rarity this last month or so, and Nancy's sulks over the missed wedding were forgotten. Theo was back. Although she'd tried not to think about it, every exchange between herself and Dick had taken on a different character since their meeting in the field. She'd developed a physical consciousness of him, as if the air was a tangible substance, pressing against her if he so much as moved her way. He didn't need to touch her. The air touched her, her skin vibrating in response to his nearness, her breath growing short the moment he entered the room. Now, with Theo's return and Judy's presence, that tension released. Now, she might believe she had imagined it. It had been nothing, or at least nothing serious — a form of brain fever or delusion.

Theo was louder than she remembered. "Our Uncle Tudor was a tremendous nag, let me tell you, Dick. I was better within a week of our arrival on the island, but would the old man believe me? Not a bit. There was no drinking, no parties, except long dinners with other prosy old men. Not a pretty woman in sight. I longed for Bizarre."

He stared across the room at her, and she managed a tight smile. He certainly looked and sounded healthier. His skin was a better color, and the journey from Williamsburg hadn't tired him. He was still thin, however, and dark shadows lingered under his eyes. She heard Dick's voice asking are you in love with him? and imagined everyone's eyes on her.

"Shall we have some music? Nancy could play," Judy said.

"Later, later. I need conversation. And cards! Dick, how about a hand or two? Perhaps in your study?" Theo tapped his empty glass, suggesting the allure of Dick's study lay in his whiskey collection as much as anything else. Within a minute, the brothers had quit the room, leaving the sisters alone.

"He appears much improved," said Judy.

"He does." She crossed the room and picked up a book. "How are you feeling?"

"Less sick, thank goodness. Did you watch Lottie churn the butter this morning?"

Her fingers curled around the spine of her book. "Yes. And stitched the wristbands on countless shirts and darned a hundred stockings." She tried to read a few pages of her novel, but her mind wouldn't settle. "You think Theo looks well?"

"Yes. Do you not?"

"Yes. Although he seemed a little different."

Judy shrugged. "Naturally he is different. The man feels himself again. None of that hacking cough or rumbling with every breath. He wants to be with his brother." She got to her feet and shook her head. "Do you want him to be an invalid so you can nurse him and flatter yourself that he needs you? Are you so much of a fool? I'm going to bed. Make sure the candles are snuffed and the door locked, won't you?"

With a whirl of her skirts, Judy was gone. Nancy put her book to one side and closed her eyes. It would not do to compare Dick and Theo. She knew that.

For a week or two, all was well. Theo paid her a pleasing amount of attention, carrying her basket as they moved between the kitchen house, the dairy and the storehouse and even reading to her in the afternoon as she sewed. True, whenever Dick called him, Theo dropped her in a flash, but she was confident of his regard for her.

His mind was not on the future, however. After a visit from Randy and Mary, he was cross and chose Nancy as the audience for an airing of his grievances.

"Did you hear Randy over dinner?" he asked, catching her on the way into the house and patting a chair on the porch so she would join him.

"Not particularly. Did he say something out of the ordinary?"

"More of his typical prosing. He's worse than old man Tucker. What are your plans, Theo? When will you return to your studies, Theo? Or do you have other ideas? Damned busybody."

"But you do have plans, don't you?"

"What do you take me for? I have grand plans, I'll have you know. But when a man's been ill as I have been? When a man finds his life derailed by poor health? Don't you think I deserve a little time to enjoy myself before settling down? You of all people, Nancy, know how much I have suffered in the last year!"

"Of course I do."

"There! I knew you'd understand." He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. "A man like Randy, you see, never knew how to be young. He was bailing out his father and talking like a grandparent before he was even twenty. He has no idea of fun or good humor. I don't know what Dick likes so much about him! There's a time for business, and I'll be a great success when I turn myself to such matters. But I deserve a little more fun before then, don't you agree?"

That evening, Dick and Theo disappeared early to Dick's study and stumbled up the stairs long past midnight. Several times during the night, she heard Theo coughing. He wasn't at breakfast.

A week later, she rose early to take a walk down to the river. She poked her head out of her door and gently tapped on Phebe's arm as she lay, tangled in blankets on her bedroll in the hallway. As the girl stirred, Nancy looked left and right. Theo's man's bed was empty. That concerned her. He didn't speak of the night sweats and the coughing, but she saw the evidence of his struggles in the laundry work that went on each day. She stifled a sigh and asked Phebe to fetch hot water, smiling as the young girl swung her legs to the floor, stood up and stretched.

Nancy went back to her room and opened her window. She watched a line of pink and orange creep up behind the snow-kissed tree line. To her left, the moon lingered while the sky around it slowly lightened. The cold air made her skin tingle, and she sucked in a deep breath, filled with the scent of pine and smoke, as someone lit a fire in the kitchen across the yard. Snow dampened the normal sounds of morning, or perhaps it was a little early for the animals to stir and the trample of workers and breakfast to begin. Behind her, she heard the door open.

"Shh." Dick stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled, his shirt half-buttoned.

"What are you doing? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. No. Everything is wrong. I must speak with you." He closed the door and leaned back against it.

"Phebe is—"

"Gone for water. I heard. I was waiting. You must hear me out."

She stared into her brother-in-law's eyes. It was madness. Yet she took his hand and pulled him to perch beside her on her bed. "If you must speak, Dick, speak quickly. Phebe will not be long; she mustn't find you here."

"It's Judy." He still held her hand, his eyes fixed on it. "I'm in torment. She's not the woman I thought she was. It's not the marriage I believed it would be."

"She's expecting a child. She's anxious. The previous loss weighs on her."

"No. I should never have married her." He shook his head and stole a look at her.

The sadness she saw took her breath away.

"Men need passion, Nancy. You know that. I don't need to tell you it. You're so alive."

"Dick. No."

"Don't say no. Just listen. You must listen."

Her thoughts flew to Phebe warming the first water of the day in the kitchen. They had some time yet. "I'm listening."

"You know what kind of man I am, don't you?" She wanted to speak but he put his finger to her lips. "No. Don't answer that. Don't say anything. I need to be honest with you, you of all people. I've lived a little you know. Before I married your sister and was trapped in this miserable life without feeling, that is. Women wanted me. Betsey Talliaferra. Kitty Ludlow. But not Judith Randolph." He hung his head. "Do you know how she treated me on our wedding night? That first night? She denied me. She made me up a bed in the corner of the room and told me I'd never touch her but when she saw fit. And that's how it has been between us. Loveless. Without passion or feeling. I'm nothing more than a breeding animal, and now I've planted a pup in her, she turns from me all over again. How is a man to bear that, Nancy?" He grabbed both her hands. "I can please a woman. I would please you, Nancy, if you would let me."

"Dick, you cannot speak so!"

"But I must. I've been awake all night and think of nothing but you and what we could be together." He fell on his knees and laid his head in her lap. "We must be together!"

"No!" She thrust at Dick's shoulders and scrambled back across the bed. "No. Get control of yourself. Phebe will be back any moment. You can't talk in this way to me. It's wrong."

For a moment, Dick put his head in his hands. She thought he might begin again and gathered the bedclothes to her chest, but when he dropped his hands, his face was calmer. He crossed to the window and spoke in a quieter tone.

"It may seem wrong, Nancy. But love is not wrong. I'll never believe that."

"You don't love me."

"Don't I? Then why is it that the thought of you marrying Theo sends me almost insane? Judy says you want to marry him. She told me so again last night, and I've not slept since. I married the wrong sister. I should have waited. Waited until you were older, until I had seen you. You're everything I thought Judy was but isn't. When I think of Theo and I, and how we're similar but far from the same, I can't rid myself of this conviction that we are all mismatched. That you and I—"

He broke off as Phebe entered the room.

"Mr. Randolph." She stood with a steaming pitcher in each hand, her eyes darting between them.

"Good morning, Phebe." He turned and made a short bow to Nancy. "I'll take your sister your answer, then. And we can talk more on the other topic later." With that, he excused himself and left the room.

"Miss Nancy!" Phebe set the pitchers on the chest of drawers and rushed to her mistress. "What in heavens? What did he say to you? Did he make you cry?"

"No!"

Phebe raised her eyebrows. "No?"

"It's nothing. I can explain."

Phebe turned and busied herself pouring water in the basin and laying out a fresh towel while Nancy frowned. Her eyes felt hot and puffy, her thoughts jumbled. A longing for easier times overwhelmed her, and she had to bite her own lip to stop a fresh wave of tears.

"We will not speak of this again, Phebe. But I can tell you one thing," she said, breathing in deeply. "I have never missed my mother more than I do now. I need to write a letter to my father this morning."

"Yes, Miss Nancy."

Phebe slipped out of the room as Nancy cupped water in her hands and closed her eyes. She wondered if Phebe could have any idea of the real substance of Dick's visit, but surely not. No one must know.

She waited anxiously for Father's reply, but when a letter came, it was Gabriella's round sloping hand that she saw, and her stepmother's answer was brief and pointed. Return to Tuckahoe was not an option. The horses were lame and could not travel. Lame!

She scrunched up the paper and threw it across the room. Another letter had arrived at the same time, this one from Lizzie. She opened it with a burst of optimism. Might it be an invitation to visit?

It wasn't. Lizzie wrote at length about how busy her household was, with Jane and John staying, and of suffering through a recent visit from Gabriella. Nancy's hands tightened on the paper as she looked at the date.

"And she's telling me the horses are lame?"

Nancy stomped downstairs. She pulled on her boots, her bonnet and cloak and marched out of the house. If she could not escape Bizarre, then she would put some distance between herself and its inhabitants — at least for an hour or two.