Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

J essica had occasionally shared a bed with her sister Matilda, when one of them had had a nightmare, or when they were at a house party with more guests than bedchambers. Not for many years and never with anyone else. Especially never with a man. Colyton had not remained in her bed longer than it took for him to swive her. Fifteen minutes, at the most.

How much time had they spent swiving? As she dressed for the day, she found herself making the calculation. Colyton visited her twice a week, regular as clockwork. Perhaps forty weeks in a year, since he left her alone during her courses, which made eighty visits a year, or twenty hours. So, in total over the four years between their wedding and her announcement that she was, finally with child… Eighty hours in all that time. Goodness. Less than a day in a year, if you added all the minutes together, and Colyton’s version of swiving had been the final abuse that had broken her.

His disrespect for her in those most intimate moments, as well as his constant criticism out of bed, had crushed her so completely she’d almost forgotten the girl she used to be. The girl who was confident and defiant, ready to challenge the ton’s expectations and prove she was every bit as much a lady as any other.

Martin’s very different attitude had reminded her of who she really was. Pretty. Capable. Intelligent. Worthy of respect. A smile lingered around her lips as she remembered the night. As Martin had predicted, they had both woken wanting more than sleep—once in the middle of the night and again this morning. How lovely it had been to simply wake up and find his kisses and his embrace within arm’s reach.

And they had another day! The snow had ceased in the night, but it lay thick all around the cottage. There’d be no leaving here today. Furthermore, today was Christmas Day, and the servants at the manor would be busy. With luck, no one would come to the cottage until tomorrow or even the next day.

Meanwhile, Jessica had her very own Christmas rogue to unwrap. As often as she possibly could.

Fully clothed and with her hair neatly dressed, she went smiling out into the hall, and stopped.”

“Martin?”

He put a finger to his lips. “Sssh,” he said. “People are coming from the manor, across the snow on a sleigh. If you keep them from coming upstairs, no one will know I have been here with you.”

Jessica’s heart sank. So much for her plans. “I’ll go down to greet them,” she said.

“One moment.” Martin took her chin in one hand and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. “I will be waiting,” he promised. “Merry Christmas.” He gave her another kiss and then let her go and disappeared into his bedchamber, closing the door behind him.

She hurried downstairs and opened the kitchen door just as the sleigh drew up outside. The horse that pulled it was a cob with powerful hindquarters. “Well done, Tansy,” called the man who had been driving the sleigh, giving the horse a slap on the withers. “Good job.” He saw Jessica watching and touched his cap. “Good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning.” Jessica’s gaze made the greeting include the two women servants who were now descending from the sleigh.

The older of the two women approached. She was carrying a large basket. “Are you Lady Colyton, my lady?”

“I am.”

“We are that sorry to have left you on your own, my lady,” said the man. “We couldn’t get through the storm.”

“I would not have wanted you to try,” Jessica assured them. “I was very comfortable here, and grateful for the food you left.”

“We’ve brought more, my lady,” said the second woman, whose basket was even bigger than the first. “If you prefer, though, her ladyship would be happy to welcome you at the manor.”

Jessica shook her head. “No. Please thank her ladyship for me, but I am very comfortable here.”

“Well, then, we’ll just clean and restock the pantry, while Frank, here, cuts you some more wood. I’m Molly, my lady. And this here is Kate. We’ll make you a nice cup of tea, shall we, my lady?”

Martin had already done it. Jessica had seen the cup set ready, next to the teapot on the kitchen table. Only one cup, which must have been the first thing Molly saw when she followed her into the kitchen. The woman gave a shriek of horror. “You were never going to drink your tea in the kitchen, my lady, and you a countess! I’ll bring it through to the parlour for you, and Kate will change the sheets on your bed. Do you want Frank to bring the bath up for you? I can set some water to heat.”

“No need,” said Jessica, thinking fast. “In fact, leave the sheets, thank you, Kate. I’ve only been here three nights, and they do not need to be changed yet. I’ll take my tea up to my bedroom with me, to be out of your way. I shall sit up there where I have a better view of the landscape. The snow is so beautiful. Just manage the food and the wood, if you please.”

It was just as well that she and Martin had washed and put away their dishes last night, and left the kitchen and parlour tidy.

Upstairs, she knocked on Martin’s door, saying, “It’s me.”

The door opened just enough for her to slip inside. “Did you put one of the cups away when you saw them coming?” she said. “You will have to share mine. I’ve told them just to restock the pantry and the wood box. I am perfectly happy to be left alone. I said no to a bath, for I do not want them upstairs.”

Martin’s eyes flared with heat. “Ask them to set up the bath in the kitchen before they leave,” he suggested. “I would like a bath. With you.”

Her own desires flared. A bath with Martin would be… interesting.

They finished the tea between them, and Jessica went down for a second cup and to make the request for the bath. Molly stared, and last week’s Jessica would have blushed and perhaps backed off. Today’s Jessica returned the look with one eyebrow slightly raised. Who was the countess here and who the servant ?

“Yes, my lady,” Molly said. “Can I fix you some breakfast while Frank is fetching the water to heat? Perhaps an omelette?”

A short time later, Kate came up to Jessica’s bedroom with the omelette, some toast with butter and marmalade and another pot of tea. “Your bath will be thirty minutes, my lady,” she said. “We’ll be on our way once it is ready, if there’s nothing else, ma’am.”

“I’ll come down to see you off, then,” Jessica told the servant.

By that time, she and Martin had shared the omelette, the toast, and a few more kisses. Jessica carried the tray downstairs to find the three servants waiting for her.

“There’s ham and roast pork in the meat safe, my lady,” Molly told her, and took her to the pantry to show her the rest of the food sent over from the manor. It was a feast—far too much for one woman, or even for a couple.

“Wonderful, Molly,” Jessica told the woman. “There is enough there to keep me eating like a queen for several days. You need not come tomorrow. I hope you all have time off. Please enjoy it without being concerned about me.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Molly replied. “We’ll be off, then, if you are sure. You’ll lock the door behind us, ma’am, won’t you.”

“I will,” Jessica assured her.

Frank nodded to her and left the kitchen, but Molly and Kate lingered. “We can easily come back tomorrow, my lady,” Molly said. The woman shifted restlessly, then added, “It don’t feel right leaving you alone on Christmas Day, ma’am. If you’ll forgive me for saying so.”

“It is kind of you to be concerned for me,” Jessica said, and indeed, she was touched, which was why she felt impelled to explain further. “This is a holiday for me, away from my family who love me dearly, but they will fuss over the poor widow. I am joining them in a few days. I will be happy to have another day alone before I need to smile and do the pretty. Enjoy your day off, Molly.”

“Eh, well,” said Molly, “That’s all right then.” And Jessica heard her say to Kate, as they left the kitchen, “See, young Kate. Even rich ladies have their troubles.”

Jessica locked and bolted the outside door, then returned to the kitchen to find Martin waiting for her by the hot bath. He had already stripped naked. “Can I help you with your fastenings, Jessica?” he asked.

Another thing Jessica had never known about intimacy was that it could be playful. Martin taught her that during Christmas Day, starting in the bath. She had not played in a bath since she was a small child, and as far as she could remember, she had never shared a bath with another person.

Much of the bath water finished up on the floor, and Jessica was so weak with laughter that she swore he was trying to drown her, and demanded to be able to rest her head on his shoulder so she could keep her head above the water. Which led to other matters that took her laughter and transmuted it into a different kind of joy.

Martin had brought down a banyan each for them to put on, and they wore only those as they bucketed the bathwater out of the bath and poured it down the drain in the scullery. Then they mopped up the spilt water from the kitchen flagstones.

“Time to dress and have breakfast,” Martin said. “All this exercise has given me an appetite,” and he wiggled his eyebrows in case she had failed to take his meaning.

He was correct that half an omelette had not been enough to keep her filled until dinner time. They dressed, and Jessica fried slices of ham and eggs in a pan on the hob while Martin took charge of the toasting fork.

The day continued with interludes of intimacy—or swiving, as Jessica had learned to call it, chess, reading quietly by the fire, more swiving, working together to prepare or clean up after a meal, cards, and swiving again.

Also talking and lots of laughter. Martin told an hilarious story about Dom’s courtship of Martin’s sister Chloe, and the part played by Chloe’s monkey. Jessica responded with the tale of her brother-in-law’s courtship of her sister Matilda. The poor Earl of Hamner had been unwillingly fascinated by the lovely Matilda, but it took one of the coldest winters and the deepest freeze in London in a generation to bring them together.

The conversation took a more serious turn in the afternoon. The sky had cleared during the day, and a ray of sunlight had crept across the parlour floor to the rug on which she and Martin were lying after another bout of swiving.

Jessica rather liked having Martin admire her naked body. No one ever had. To be fair, no one except her lady’s maid had ever seen it. Colyton used to visit her in the dark, and even so, both of them remained in their night attire while Colyton exercised his rights and Jessica did her duty.

Martin was using his fingers to find ticklish spots, but maintaining a complimentary commentary as he did so. But then he stroked a finger across the side of her belly and said, “Scars, Jessica? Were you in an accident?”

Oh, no. She had forgotten. For a moment, she wanted to slap his hand away and flee, but she fought the impulse. He knew how awful her marriage had been, and he did not judge her. Perhaps she could trust him with this, too.

And if not—well. They had to part tomorrow, in any case.

“Not an accident,” she told him. “They are marks many women bear after carrying a child.”

He looked surprised. “You have a child?”

The familiar grief crashed in on her, as strong as ever, sweeping away all her equanimity. It never grew less, no matter how many months had passed, no matter how much she rebuilt her life. It deluged her less often, but as strongly, every time.

She found herself sobbing, and Martin lay down beside her and folded her in his arms, murmuring how sorry he was. Haverford, when he had arrived after it happened, had also held her. “I will fix it,” his murmur had been. “Tell me what is wrong, and I will fix it.” Poor Haverford. It had already been too late.

The whole story came out once she was a little calmer. How Colyton had been so determined that the child she was carrying would be a son, how she had instead given birth to a daughter.

“I do not need another daughter, woman,” he had screamed at her, and he had ordered the midwife to “take it away.”

Jessica had tried to stop him, to get between the midwife and the baby, but she had been weak from the birth, and that was the last time she had seen her little girl.