Chapter 2
Jacob’s injuries were horrific. I can scarce remember those first few days. In his moments of lucidity, between administrations of laudanum, we discovered Lolly had been reluctant to walk and so Jacob had gone to look at her back hoof once more. It was then she bucked and kicked — striking my beloved husband brutally in the crotch. So severe was his injury that I remember the physician suggesting the amputation of all his male parts.
At this, Jacob had protested vehemently — though he was scarcely in a frame of mind to do so. The physician warned us that if we left his damaged parts, they may fester and kill him.
I was, of course, forbidden to see the extent of the damage, as if I had never seen those parts before. The physician assured me his injury was most shocking.
‘I shall not burden you to be married to a eunuch!’ Jacob growled, his face wan and creased with agony. ‘They shall not take my cock, or my balls! I’d rather die.’
Then I had cried, ‘I could not bear to lose you.’
‘Could you bear losing my cock then? Forever chained to a man who cannot please you?’
‘I shan’t care for such things, so long as you are always by my side.’ I sobbed, for at the time I spoke, I’d never uttered words so true.
I saw the tears glisten in his eyes. ‘No, Janie, I shall not have it done. I am a man, and shall die as one.’
Die he very nearly did.
Infection set in, and he became desperately ill. He did not linger long in sensibility for many days, moaning and thrashing in fever throws. Yet, at length, as if by some miracle, he began to heal though all was far from well.
It became apparent after a time that his manhood was still intact and I was grateful. Though of his plums, the news was less favourable. For weeks, Jacob hid himself from me. Gone was our customary closeness. Since our marriage we had always shared a bed, but from that day, Jacob retired alone to his sick rooms rather than joining me in our marital bed. How I missed him. Certainly, a tear still stings my eyes upon remembering those dark days.
The wicked smile and genial spirit had left Jacob, and all but a shallow husk remained.
For one long month after the accident the situation seemed untenable, made more so by the untimely arrival of Jacob’s younger brother, Arthur.
To be charitable, one could describe Arthur as a man of good breeding, grace and wit. To be honest, one would describe him as rude, homely and a bore. I find him loathsome and tolerate him only for Jacob’s benefit, nothing else.
‘Sister,’ he oozed upon my greeting. ‘Terrible news, terrible news.’
I stared at him, his blond hair askew from the removal of his hat; his lips seemed to have taken on the appearance of twin pink slugs.
‘Indeed,’ I agreed stiffly.
There was an ill-timed and lengthy pause in conversation.
‘To what do we owe this visit, Arthur?’ I asked when I could stand the silence no longer.
‘Can a brother not visit upon his ailing brother and his wife? Mayhap I wish to see my nieces — such lovely little girls.’
I disliked his reference to ‘ailing’, for in truth at this time Jacob was healing, and healing well.
I could feel my brow arch. ‘Truly?’
‘Indeed, how is dear Jacob and how are…’ He hesitated. ‘Er…’
‘Lucy and Cassandra?’ I offered.
He nodded enthusiastically.
I withdrew my hand from his clammy clasp — oftentimes Arthur lingered upon my hands and the gesture had verily come to make my skin crawl.
‘Our girls are well indeed. My thanks for your felicitations. My lord husband is improving daily. Yesterday he took a turn about the gardens with me,’ I said with more pleasure than I felt.
There was another lengthy pause.
‘I gather you did not receive my correspondence then?’ Arthur asked, his eyes, though the same blue as Jacob’s were small and hard.
‘Correspondence? Why no, we have received nothing from you. So you understand it is quite a surprise to find you here, with your…’ My eyes lingered on the luggage in the hallway. ‘Baggage.’
Arthur nodded. ‘Quite. I had, er…heard of Jacob’s injury. I am most anxious to see how he fairs.’
Odious, snivelling worm! I thought to myself. He no more wanted to see Jacob than I wished to see him!
‘As I said, he improves daily,’ I replied.
‘Excellent, just excellent.’ Arthur nodded, and I watched those small eyes dart around the hallway, as if sizing and costing the vases and paintings that decorated our fine entranceway, so that he could gamble them away at some future date.
‘Arthur, though your visit is testament to your care and concern for your brother, I hesitate to say it is an unnecessary one. Jacob is well, and I feel I could not possibly hold you here in Berkshire, under the pretence he is ailing, when so clearly he is not,’ I began. ‘So you need not fear a lengthy visit. A gentleman such as yourself must have a full social calendar, and the country charm of Berkshire pales to the excitement of London. You must be eager to return to the city, now you have ascertained that your brother is not in mortal danger.’
His cold eyes met mine. ‘Your concern for my social calendar is touching, but I must insist.’
I could scarce contain a sigh. I knew I was being rude, that I should have asked him into the sitting room and offered whisky and have the footmen take his luggage. Yet, I delayed.
I knew the true reason Arthur had returned to Fielding Place. He could no more hide his intent than he could the reddened lump of a nose that wallowed in the centre of his face.
I could see Bolton standing stiffly beside the doorman, reluctant or unwilling to leave me alone with Arthur. I caught his eye just briefly, but our silent intercourse was interrupted by Arthur’s continuation of unwanted conversation.
‘My good man, Bolton isn’t it?’ He clicked his fingers as if Bolton was no more than a hound. ‘If you would be so kind as to take my luggage to the guest rooms for me. Lady Fielding is quite right, I have no desire to linger long in Berkshire, but am weary of the day’s travel.’
‘Of course you are, how remiss of me,’ I replied, stung by his gall. ‘Bolton, if you would be so kind as to get the footmen to take the luggage.’
‘Yes, Milady.’ Bolton nodded and left to organise the removal of Arthur’s baggage.
‘Please, come into the sitting room. I shall ring for refreshment.’
It was intolerably awkward in the sitting room with Arthur.
‘Is my brother abed?’ he asked, taking a sip of our aged whisky and exhaling cigar smoke with long languid breaths.
‘Yes.’ I felt myself blush. I did not wish to discuss my husband’s injured manhood with Arthur, nor anyone.
‘How often is he abed? Does he rise for long periods?’
‘Arthur, please. It would be improper for me to discuss this with you.’
‘And yet, dear Jane, it is my right to know, as his heir…’ Arthur said.
I stilled and my civility fled. ‘Your lack of discretion and sensibility truly astounds me.’
Arthur appeared to be taken aback by the sudden sharp words, but it was affectation only, I am certain.
‘Dear sister, you wound me.’ He smiled and I noted with relish how imperfect were his teeth. ‘My bosom bleeds with this inferred accusation.’ He offered a licentious grin which sickened my very stomach.
‘As his heir,’ I acceded, ‘I can understand your concern. I shall however inform you duly that Fielding Place remains solely my husband’s domain. Jacob has survived his accident, and is incapacitated neither physically nor mentally. You need not fear the responsibility of inheriting the Barony, just now.’
‘Words of a frightened woman,’ Arthur swiftly rebuffed. ‘I should very much like to see how he fairs with mine own eyes. There has been much speculation on the nature of his injury and its repercussions for the line of inheritance.’
‘Has there?’ my traitorous voice tremble
d.
‘Why yes, there has been much discussion on whether his injury has left him unable to sire his own heir. You have only daughters, so I remain the next in line for the title, a tenuous hold at best. So, you must understand how anxious I am to discover the truth behind this speculation. If Jacob cannot sire a son, then Fielding shall certainly be mine. This fact shall improve my prospects of an advantageous marriage immeasurably in London.’ He paused and puffed on the cigar once more.
‘You beast!’ I whispered. ‘How dare you speak so in front of me?’
Yet in truth, Arthur only spoke the fears that Jacob and I both harboured.
It was true, the horrific swelling and infection of my husband’s manhood was much reduced, and though the physician spoke of left testicular atrophy I was uncertain of its significance. It was a dark, dreadful thought. What if he could no longer get me with child? Our daughters could not inherit, and there was no one else left to pass the title to. Yet the thought of Arthur taking Fielding Place as his own was untenable. He was a rake, a gambler and philanderer. He thought nothing of whittling away his allowance on opium dens and whores. Thrice in two years Jacob had been called to London to ease the disquiet caused by Arthur’s libertine manners.
‘Forgive me, Jane, if I may just speak with Jacob myself — ’
‘He is abed,’ I cried. ‘You may not.’
The last thing my darling husband needed was his odious brother questioning his manhood. Heavens, I was loath to breach the subject, and it was a subject dear to my heart.
‘Mayhap in the morning?’ Arthur pressed.
It was all I could do to incline my head graciously, before sweeping from the room.
This visit, I realise now, was the inception of Jacob’s current plan. A most shocking plan, to ensure Arthur will not inherit Fielding.
Chapter 3
Allow me, however, to elaborate on the devilish circumstance that has spawned my husband’s latest notion.
After my altercation with Arthur that day, I spoke to Bolton briefly about providing Arthur with an adequate dinner that evening, for I had no appetite to speak of and could no more stomach sitting with him for a meal than eat pigs swill.
I hurried to my husband’s rooms to inform him of the evening’s events.
I opened his door with a gentle knock; I knew he would not be asleep, though he would no doubt be reclined. Until that day there seemed few positions which gave him comfort.
The physician had visited earlier, and Jacob had seemed withdrawn.
‘Jacob?’ I whispered and closed the door behind me. ‘Oh, Jacob.’ The sun shone through the open curtains, illuminating his golden hair like a halo. He was reading in the bed. He looked up and a smile grew on his face.
‘Jane, you look beautiful.’
My hand flew to my hair, where an errant curl had escaped my cap.
‘I had thought to say the same about you,’ I replied with a smile, as I tucked the golden strand back. ‘But thank you, you too are looking much improved.’
‘As you say,’ he murmured, his smile faded.
‘Has Bolton spoken to you?’ I asked, and sank down onto the soft bed.
The lingering smell of his infection and sickness had faded, and I leant forwards to kiss his roughened cheek. Now he smelled of soap and a maleness that made my loins tighten. I was so terribly desperate to be beside him, to feel his skin against me. Thus far in his convalescence he had refused to allow it.
This morning, however, he surprised me by reaching over, clasping my face in his hands and bringing his lips to mine. He crushed his mouth against mine, and I eagerly yielded. He tasted like the tea he’d consumed. My heart soared, and the warmth of his hands against my face made me melt. When he finally, reluctantly, released me, I took a great shuddering breath.
‘Thank God,’ I whispered to him, ‘I have longed for you to kiss me…’
Jacob looked away, an expression of discomfort settling across his brow.
‘Arthur is here,’ he said slowly, his gaze returning to me.
‘Yes.’ I could not stem the shudder of revulsion. ‘He wants to know…’ I hesitated, I could feel tears sting my eyes, and I looked away.
‘He wants to know if I can sire a son, I know. He sent correspondence some weeks ago,’ Jacob said.
Finally I brought my eyes to his. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d had word from him?’ I cried. I knew I sounded plaintive.
‘Janie, my dearest. I didn’t want to upset you.’
I looked into his eyes then, and saw the truth. He knew how I loathed his brother, and I had been so worried.
‘Do you think you can? Can we make a son?’
Jacob bit his lip, and I watched his head shake slowly. ‘I don’t know,’ his voice cracked.
I allowed my tears to fall then, as I had refused to let them earlier.
‘Janie, Janie,’ he hushed me.
Blessedly I felt his arms pull me towards him, and I lay my head against his chest, relishing the touch in a way I hadn’t been able for over a month.
We stayed like that for what seemed a lengthy time, my tears stemmed by the rhythmic solid beat of his heart.
How I loved this man.
Yet, I was terribly scared.
Was he truly mending?
Would he return to the honourable, kind and affectionate husband he had been?
Could he still be a man in the bed?
Wicked though it may be, I ached for him. I’d begun to dream of him coming to me. Waking in a hot sweat, my thighs slicked with dew. On those nights, in my lonely bed, I would take ease with myself. I would run my fingers through my swollen folds and stroke that deep dark heat until I reached fulfilment. Afterward, I would lay alone, wracked with guilt. I should not touch myself when my husband suffered as he did. It was wicked, it was cruel.
How I loathed this torment.
‘What did the physician say?’ I asked, lifting my head from his chest and staring into his guarded blue eyes.
‘He believes…’ Jacob hesitated and I watched him gnaw at his lower lip a moment. ‘He believes that I will be able to make love to you again, soon even.’
I felt my face split by joy. ‘Truly? Oh Jacob, but this is wonderful news!’
Jacob’s expression, however, showed no such joy. ‘He has his doubts though.’
‘But why?’
‘My…’ He breathed in sharply, and gnawed at his lip. ‘My manhood is blessedly undamaged now the swelling has receded.’ He paused and his face reddened. ‘Alas, the same cannot be said for my…stones.’
I felt my own face redden. ‘Your…stones?’
‘One has been damaged more than the other.’ He looked at me searchingly. Searching for what I was unsure.
So I asked, ‘What does this mean for us?’
He tore his gaze away from me, his expression grim. ‘It means that though I may have the capability to make love to you, the desire to do so may be limited…and…’ he faded off, ‘my ability to sire a child may indeed be irreparably damaged.’
It was too much to take. I clasped a hand over my mouth to stifle any audible expression of my dismay. ‘Does that mean that Arthur will be your legal heir now?’ The thought was repugnant.
‘Until we have a son, I am afraid, yes.’
I stared at my husband with utmost horror. ‘No…we must — ’
Jacob released a sad laugh. ‘My darling, we shall do all we can to prevent that from happening.’
‘But the physician said…’ My voice failed, and for a moment I was unable to speak. ‘Do you still desire me?’ I finally asked in a frightened voice. ‘Is the desire to make love to your wife still within you?’
Jacob’s eyes softened. ‘Always,’ he murmured, and drew me back into his embrace. ‘How could it not be?’
I lay down beside him, feeling the warmth of him soak through the bedding and clothing to my skin. His hand stroked me, and though it was neither the time nor place I found my body responding to his touch �
� as it always had.
‘Jacob,’ I breathed, as his hand ran the length of my side and clasped my breast, squeezing gently. ‘Can we try? I have been so lonely without you.’
With my head against his chest, I heard the sharp intake of his breath and the increased beat of his heart. ‘My love, I know,’ he whispered, his hand coming to my cap and releasing my hair.
He inhaled the perfume and kissed the top of my head. ‘I am just,’ his voice halted, ‘frightened, I suppose,’ he confided.
‘Frightened of what?’ I asked, looking up at him, uncertain what his answer should be.
‘That…that I will be not be stirred by you, that I will not satisfy you, that you will no longer admire me now I am so flawed. God save me, I seem frightened of everything.’
His words touched me deeply, and I felt my chest constrict. ‘You always and ever shall satisfy me. I love you, Jacob.’
‘I know, and it makes me fear I shall fail you all the more.’
‘Never,’ I replied with more confidence than I realised I had.
Without asking his permission, I sat up and began to unbutton his nightshirt. Though he’d had a month of bed rest, the fineness of his form never ceased to steal my breath. His chest, finely dusted by golden hair, was of such perfection it may have been carved in the days of the Roman pantheon. I ran my hands through that hair, and lingered on the hard tips of nipple. ‘You could never disappoint me, Jacob. Never.’ I lent my head and kissed those lean hard planes.
His stomach convulsed and he cried out, ‘Janie, no.’
I kissed a trail down to where the sheet covered his damaged manhood, and paused. I looked up and held his eyes with mine. ‘If you truly mean that, I shall stop,’ I whispered, ‘but you must know, stopping is the last thing I wish to do. I want to behold you with my own eyes. Let me love you. Nothing that happens will ever change how I feel, or how much I …’ My mouth dried. ‘Want you…Jacob, please…’
The pain in his eyes brought a sympathetic tear to my own. ‘Janie,’ he groaned. ‘I don’t want to repulse you. I am not the man I used to be…’
‘I cannot believe that,’ I replied, but he did not move to stop me. Gently and with much caution I peeled the bedclothes down.
The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding Page 2
