I listened with enthusiasm to Matthew’s plans for the house. They were wonderful plans that would see Mansbury Terrace become a desirable abode once more. Yet, I knew with certainty, he had not the funds. It would be impossible for Matthew to have the house re-painted on his allowance, let alone a complete rejuvenation.
‘Do you have the funds for this?’ I asked when he had fallen silent, clearly dreaming what would be.
Matthew let out a small bitter laugh. ‘Ah, Jane, you are no fool. You are quite correct. Even though the architect, Mr Bosworth, is a good friend and most amiable fellow, he cannot work for free. I can but dream.’ His expression was wistful.
I fell silent.
‘Still,’ he said, ‘I shall use what funds I do have at my disposal to do what I can and see to its upkeep. Never fear,’ he said with a smile.
I felt suddenly wretched. If I accepted Matthew into my bed, Jacob would gladly finance any improvements to Mansbury Terrace.
Did that mean Matthew was some form of whore?
I disliked this notion greatly.
Matthew is an honourable, kind man, who deserves a better existence than the one in which he finds himself.
I could aid him. I want to aid him.
Yet, I do not want another man in my bed.
Or do I?
This is a damnable position!
Do not mistake me. My curiosity is piqued. I find myself unable to kiss Jacob without supposing how different Matthew would feel. I have found myself absurdly prone to devilish thoughts about the man. I have come to believe that my reticence to engage in my husband’s proposed arrangement stem from my own reservations about the morality of it, not my lack of desire for Matthew, for, undoubtedly he is most desirable.
Before I could respond to Matthew’s conversation, Cassandra ran shrieking across the lawns in a vain attempt to escape Nanny.
Matthew laughed as he watched my young daughter’s antics.
‘Do you want children, Matthew?’ I asked when Nanny finally captured the child and dragged her back to the house.
He looked at me then, his gaze heavy with words unspoken.
‘Doesn’t any man?’ he replied.
‘I did not ask any man, I asked you,’ I corrected.
‘Of course, I do, but it is not for all of us. I have not the money or home for wife and children,’ he said.
‘Why have you not accepted the funds Jacob has offered you over the years?’
‘I am a proud man, I shall not accept charity.’ His tone was stiff.
‘Would you accept funds, if I agreed to take part in Jacob’s plan?’
My voice was soft, but I knew Matthew had heard as his cheeks flushed in response.
‘I do not know,’ he said. ‘The notion is an unsettling one, and one with which I cannot yet find peace.’
With those words, he grew even greater in my esteem.
We then walked back to the house in silence; our conversation had made me heartsick, but gave me much to think upon. His excitement when he spoke about the rejuvenation of Mansbury Terrace was infectious and I longed to see his eyes light up with enthusiasm again.
Whether Jacob noticed our conversation, and the shift in my sympathies towards Matthew, this night, I noticed with some consternation, that he chose to sleep once more in the sick rooms.
I find this fearfully irritating, as I understand its purpose. Jacob does this in the hope that Matthew may visit upon me in my bedroom whilst he is absent, as if in some illicit rendezvous.
An utterly ridiculous notion.
Indeed, if I am to partake in this ludicrous plan, amongst the three of us it shall be as transparent as is possible. I shall not have my husband wondering if his cousin mounts me in my bed, and I shall not have Matthew fear an untimely intrusion. When, if, I allow such an act to occur, it will do so with my husband’s full knowledge and agreement as well as my own.
***
Saturday 24th July 1813
Today was Lord Stanton’s birthday party, to which we had been invited.
The day began unusually hot, so I dressed in a day gown least likely to cause me excessive discomfort. I had ordered Esther to keep my stays loose. It would not do to faint — I quite dislike the melodramatic.
We took Matthew with us, for it would be quite improper to leave him at Fielding whilst we celebrated at Stanton. Fortunately, he had brought proper formal attire, albeit, not particularly fashionable. Yet, I must say seeing Matthew and Jacob so finely garbed and both waiting for my arm had me fit to swoon. I consider myself blessed that the Fielding men, Arthur not included, are so finely formed.
The ride to Stanton was unfavourably long and hot. Pressed betwixt Jacob and Matthew I felt like a bird torn between two cats. I could feel the heat from both radiate into me, my belly was coiled and I am ashamed to admit my sex seeped with dew. Jacob’s hand took mine and tightened slightly, though the gesture merely inflamed my loins all the more.
I feel that I have become somewhat wanton; all this talk of carnal activity with Matthew is making me lose my sensibilities. When I look upon the man, and see the angular lines of his jaw, I find myself wondering what it would be like to kiss them. His lips are fuller than Jacob’s, but the line of his mouth naturally more severe. I find myself dreaming about them when my husband brushes his lips across my body. I imagine how it would feel if Matthew were to do the same.
Is this wicked of me? I fear I am coveting a man other than my husband, a certain sin against God.
‘Jacob.’ Matthew interrupted my sensual but guilt-laden musing. I turned to face Matthew. He looked uncomfortable, his jacket must have been sweltering in the confines of the carriage and his hair curled at his ears with perspiration. ‘Jane,’ he added in a softer tone.
‘What is it, my good man? It is damnably hot here!’ Jacob asked, wrenching the window open further so as to lessen the stifling atmosphere of the carriage.
‘I…’ Matthew hesitated and my body constricted, as if I knew the words he planned to speak. ‘I fear I cannot go along with this…this plan any longer.’
Jacob released an uneasy laugh. ‘My dear fellow, you have not yet done anything! Unless…’ he hesitated, ‘you have visited upon my wife without my knowing…’
The look of outrage on Matthew’s face may have bordered on comical had the situation not been so very perverse.
‘Good God! What devilishness do you speak of! I would never…I would never — ’
‘Fuck my wife without my prior knowledge?’ Jacob replied, clearly taking Matthew’s outrage for innocence.
Bile burned my throat. ‘Jacob. Do not speak so, you are offending me.’
Jacob laughed, dryly. ‘My apologies, I had to ask, everyone has been on such tenterhooks, I scarce know what is going on.’
‘This is exactly why it cannot continue,’ Matthew said. ‘I feel that every time I glance at Jane it may be misinterpreted. I do not wish her to cringe away from me like I’m an old letch, when in truth I am here at her husband’s behest.’
My face burned in shame.
Matthew turned and stared out the window, running a strong hand through his hair as he did. My heart tightened and I threw a concerned glance at Jacob who cast my glance away with a careless shrug. Clearly it was left to me to rectify and clarify the situation, if it was indeed rectifiable or capable of being clarified.
‘Oh, Matthew, no. I admire you greatly, and you are far from lecherous.’ I hoped my words would offer a level of assurance I otherwise could not offer.
Matthew turned to face me, his eyes darkened and brow furrowed. ‘And yet I feel so, every time I so much as glance at you, Jane, I believe you think I am seeing you through the eyes of a man who wishes dishonour.’
I felt such wicked guilt then. He had never looked at me in such a fashion, not once, and yet, every time I looked upon him, it was I who imagined all manner of sinful things. I can admit in this account that I often brushed my gaze past the bulge in his breeches, wickedly imagining
the beast that lingered there. Sometimes, I’d touch myself during my bath, wondering how his caresses would differ.
‘No, Matthew. Please do not think such a thing, you are a deeply honourable man, and if truth be known…’ I hesitated.
Was now the time for my confession?
The weight of expectation was as heavy as the heat in the air.
‘Yes, Jane?’ Jacob probed softly, ‘Continue…’
I gnawed my lip somewhat. ‘If truth be known, it is I who has been looking at you in such a fashion. Since Jacob concocted this abominable plan, I’ve thought of little else.’
I shuddered and fanned my face rapidly to keep the stain from my cheeks.
Jacob squeezed my hand. ‘You need not be ashamed.’
‘Should I not?’ I quipped. ‘I feel positively wanton at times, and I am dreadfully embarrassed, and yet still have not completely declined this mad, vulgar, plan. And in truth I do not know if I even want to. Yet there is nothing for it, I admit I do have a curiosity…’ I sighed then. ‘Mayhap if you had looked at me like a dirty letch, Matthew, my repulsion would give reason for reluctance and yet…’
The men were completely silent.
‘As the days pass, I find myself less and less reluctant.’
There, I had said it, and the men were still. The only sounds in the carriage were the muffled footfall of the horses as we made our way to Stanton.
Eventually, I gathered the courage to look up at Jacob’s face. Unsure of what I would see there. Resentment? Anger? Acceptance? I could not judge. He caught my gaze, and smiled slowly.
‘It is the only way to ensure the safety of our family and the title.’
‘I know this,’ I replied, then looked up at Matthew. His eyes, such an attractive deep blue, stared at me in bewilderment. He licked his lips, and his large hands clenched tightly in his lap.
He said nothing for the remainder of the journey to Stanton.
We arrived at the party unfashionably late, and it seemed in full revelry. The gardens, I must say, were beautifully finished, and the renovations to the buildings added a charm they had previously lacked. As our carriage was taken by the groomsmen, we were directed to a large white marquee where refreshments were being served. Jacob was occupied introducing Matthew to those who had not made his acquaintance. This left me free to observe the party attendants in relative peace, and struggle silently with my own mystifying thoughts.
As I followed my husband around the party, inattentively listening to banter about hunting, I found myself facing the young Lady Catherine Bexley. I curtseyed and greeted her, though I know little of her. Pretty to a fault, she seems rather timid to me. If I am not mistaken the girl has been married only a month or so. Her husband, Lord Joseph Bexley, is an acquaintance of Jacob, and is many years Catherine’s senior. It is perhaps kindest if I describe the gentleman as an imposing figure, and one most proper. Else there is little kind to say about him at all. I almost pity her; a wedding at the best of times is ironically both the happiest and most terrifying day in a gentlewoman’s life, and to be married to Lord Bexley! England has never seen such propriety. The man is so damnably rigid one suspects he may shatter if he were to mistakenly bump something.
I smiled at Lady Catherine during a lull in our conversation, and turned to glance once more at her husband. He was perhaps an inch or two taller than both Jacob and Matthew, who were fine tall men. He was broad, handsome I suppose, if one likes a brooding visage. Then, may the good Lord forgive me, my eyes brushed past his breeches, and there was no mistaking the magnitude of his maleness.
I felt that wretched heat swell in my breast and I fanned myself furiously.
It was then the young Lady Bexley drew me back into conversation. ‘How fare your children, Lady Fielding?’ she asked, though I am most certain it was politeness that urged her to ask, rather than genuine interest in the subject.
I was certain she would have had word of Jacob’s injury. Was she inquiring into that area? I wondered. I felt myself frown slightly. ‘Well, thank you. And you? Does marriage suit you?’
For a brief moment, I saw a shadow pass over her youthful features, before she smiled. ‘Quite.’
‘Soon you shall have children of your own,’ I said and nodded. ‘I shall be happy to recommend a wet nurse and governess should you ever feel the need.’ I hesitated, as I saw Mrs Lidia Swinton walk past, her arm latched through her husband’s in a markedly possessive gesture. ‘Mrs Swinton,’ I hailed her to come. She turned and smiled, raising a gloved hand in greeting. She whispered something to her husband; he turned a handsome face in our direction and nodded curtly before disappearing from his wife’s side.
‘Lady Fielding,’ she smiled. ‘Lady Bexley,’ she curtseyed a greeting.
Mrs Lidia Swinton was a woman I both loved and loathed in equal measure. She had a wicked sense of humour and was ruthlessly witty with it. Her black hair was carefully coiffed beneath a beautiful blue bonnet. Her eyes glittered with mischief as they alighted on Lady Bexley.
‘I was just suggesting that when Lady Bexley has children, you and I could perhaps suggest a quality wet nurse.’
Lidia’s lively blue eyes slipped to me, and she arched an elegant eyebrow. ‘Quite, and naturally I shall. Yet, Lady Fielding, what a fascinatingly dull topic for conversation you propose for such a fine day.’
‘A necessary discussion to have, wouldn’t you agree, especially for a young bride?’ I countered, smiling indulgently at Lady Bexley.
The young woman had paled, whether at the topic of discussion or Lidia Swinton’s unusually abrasive manner. With a slight stutter, she excused herself.
‘Do you think I offended her?’ Lidia asked, watching the young bride disappear through the crowd.
‘I think not,’ I said and glanced at her husband, who remained deep in conversation with Jacob about hunting.
‘No,’ Lidia agreed. ‘I suppose being married to Bexley one would become used to boring conversation,’ she replied, failing to soften her voice.
I fanned my face to disguise a smile. ‘How is your husband?’
‘Better than yours, or so I heard.’ Lidia smiled wickedly. ‘Though, I am certain you will eventually indulge me with the details once you are ready.’
I sincerely doubted that, but said naught.
Lidia continued regardless, ‘First, however, you must introduce me to the fellow beside him, he cuts quite a dashing figure and one I’m not familiar with.’
‘He is my husband’s cousin,’ I fanned my face, ‘and he is staying at Fielding for a time.’
‘Lucky you.’ Lidia smiled fiendishly. ‘A veritable banquet for your eyes, I should imagine. Such impressive masculinity, and you shall have them both to yourself? Lord Fielding’s cousin is not yet married?’
‘No,’ I replied.
I turned and looked at both Matthew and Jacob; deep as they were in conversation with Bexley they did not notice our observation of them. It was true, their blond heads were glistening in the heat of the sun, their shoulders broad. They did look very fine.
‘Astonishing,’ Lidia replied, ‘why ever not?’
I looked at her then. ‘You cannot expect me to divulge these details to you.’ I laughed, though even to my own ears it was hollow. ‘Matthew’s business is his own, and not for public speculation.’
‘So this Adonis who, it must be said, looks markedly similar to your own husband, is called Matthew?’
I looked at her, trying to decipher the shrewd look in her eyes. I said nothing.
Lidia laughed. ‘My, my, Lady Fielding, did your eyes just turn green?’
Was I jealous she admired Matthew? Mayhap I was.
‘Lidia, you are incorrigible,’ I retorted, and glanced towards the Hall. ‘Have you seen Lady Stanton?’ I asked.
‘No, she’s hiding, swollen and bloated with child as she is.’
‘You’re being unkind. What about Lord Stanton? We came late and have not greeted him.’
‘He w
as drinking in the marquee last I saw, but has since disappeared. I can only imagine where.’
I laughed, though it was half in pity; Lord Stanton was a notorious womaniser. Poor Lady Stanton.
So the afternoon continued as such. I spent some time walking in what I found was a surprisingly companionable silence betwixt Matthew and Jacob. With a gentleman on both my arms, I felt delectably spoilt and cosseted. I relished the envious glances from the other women. As we walked, whether it was accident or design, occasionally Matthew or Jacob’s arm would brush against the swelling of my breast. The gesture left me weakened.
Matthew spoke about his plans for Mansbury Terrace with Jacob who listened without comment. I could give Matthew what he needed to rejuvenate the London house. I realised then that I desperately wanted to as well.
Whilst Matthew and Jacob spoke, I became lost in my thoughts. I knew that in sharing our marital bed with Matthew, we three could finally have what we wanted. Matthew could have Mansbury Terrace fixed, Jacob could have his son, and I…I would get to see both men happy, and finally be able to sate my wicked curiosity. Finally, as we sat in silence on the long carriage ride home, I realised something.
I had made up my mind.
Chapter 8
‘Jacob,’ I said, as we descended the stairs for the evening meal.
‘Yes?’ He spoke softly.
‘I will do what you wish, and tonight if it pleases you.’ My heart lurched at my own words.
‘Darling, truly?’
‘Yes.’
He took me in his arms and kissed me, fiercely. ‘What made you decide this?’
‘Today, being with you and Matthew. Speaking to him, speaking to you. We all need this, for Fielding, and Matthew’s future.’
Jacob was silent. ‘This is not an easy thing for any of us; the mere thought of him touching you makes me…makes me feel slightly crazed, and yet we must.’
‘Tonight,’ I agreed, there would be no point in prolonging the awkwardness.
‘It may take more than one occasion.’ Jacob spoke softly, as though I needed to be told.
I laughed. ‘It may, it may not, I shall leave it to God to decide which.’
The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding Page 6
