by Val Wood
As if her eyes were suddenly opened, she saw the daylight; the sky was streaked with colour, the river was shimmering, the wave crests sparkling and dancing.
I have a choice, she realized. It’s up to me. Do I want him?
The answer unfolded like a manifestation. Of course she wanted him. She wanted to feel his arms around her, his lips once more on hers as they’d been that night in his cabin. She must have been brainsick not to have realized before. The provocation and tension within her each time she saw him, wasn’t caused by aversion – but by desire. A longing for—. What?
When she’d opened the door earlier and greeted the morning, she had been filled with a bright expectation. She had slept but little after returning from the Breeze, feeling restless after the evening’s events and her meeting again with Matt on the ship, and when she’d seen him there in the meadow, staring at her, not knowing how long he had been watching her as she made her obeisance to the day, she’d felt that fate was taking a hand, that here was her predestination. She could reach out towards it or turn her back.
She watched him striding further and further out of her reach. She was afraid. She knew men only too well. They coaxed and tempted you with sweet words, and then they changed and became bullying, abusive tyrants. The fear was real and she trembled. She took a hesitant step onto the grass. ‘Wait,’ she whispered. ‘Wait.’
You’re a fool, Annie, she considered. You’ll be hurt again. But I have to learn to trust, she pleaded with herself, or it’ll be too late!
She stepped forward again. ‘Wait,’ she shouted, her voice breaking huskily. ‘Wait! Matt. Please wait.’
He stopped and turned, hesitated, and then turned back and walked on. She started to run. ‘No, wait. I must tell you something.’ She’d explain; about her and Toby, then he’d understand. Maybe he was jealous of her being with Toby, they were fond of each other, she knew. She ran faster, the meadow sloped steeply. Maybe he was jealous of her and Toby – of Toby and her – of Toby!
Why hadn’t she thought of that before. If it was true! The possibility of such reasoning sent a warm glow through her. ‘Wait.’ Her breath was going, she felt a stitch coming in her side. Why didn’t he turn around?
She fell headlong in the grass and she gave a loud gasp, but still he didn’t turn. She picked herself up and ran again, leaving behind her shawl. ‘Please stop. I want to tell you.’
He started to turn as she almost reached him, and she felt herself falling again, her momentum pitching her forward into his arms which he opened to catch her.
‘I want to tell you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘About me and Toby. There was nothing.’ She shook her head, too breathless to go on. ‘We didn’t—’
He put his fingers on her lips to silence her. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said quietly.
‘But it does.’ She took his hand away from her mouth and held it. ‘We were like brother and sister. That’s how we both wanted it.’
He gave a short laugh and gently stroked her bare arm. ‘Toby!’
‘You don’t believe me?’ She stared wide-eyed at him, wanting to convince him.
His eyes were tender, why had she always thought they were hard? She felt as if she was melting beneath his gaze; her legs were giving way.
‘I was wrong to ask. As you so rightly said, it’s nothing to do with anyone else, but yes, I do believe you. It would be typical of Toby, playing at brothers and sisters.’
He gazed down at her and hesitatingly he caressed her face, tracing her cheekbones, touching her lips. He shook his head. ‘He must have been touched in the head, wanting you for a sister!’
‘But I wouldn’t have wanted to be anything else,’ she whispered. No need to tell him, not now that Toby was no more, that he had been changing towards her, that his brotherly kiss was becoming more tender and that she hadn’t wanted it.
‘You know that I want you?’ He moved a strand of hair and bent and kissed her forehead and then each cheek.
She didn’t answer, but only nodded and felt happiness filling her mind, her whole being.
‘I want you so badly that I can’t sleep for thinking about you. I’ve been so consumed by needless jealousy that I was rude and unkind towards you.’
‘So that was the reason,’ she whispered and smiled, her face lighting up. ‘I thought it was because I was just a nobody, – a nobody off the scrap heap.’
He flinched. ‘Did I really say that? I don’t know how you can bear even to talk to me.’ He took hold of both her hands and drew her closer, she saw the wisps of curl in his beard and could smell the sea in his hair. ‘Can you ever forgive me? I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was unpardonable. But what now? Will you send me on my way now that we have made our peace? Shall I come on another day so that we can start again on a different understanding?’
She was puzzled and a frown wrinkled her brows. Did he mean that he wasn’t going to stay? That he wasn’t going to take her into the feather bed and whisper sweet nothings to her, before he forced his body into hers? Did he mean that she should decide?
He gave a gentle laugh. ‘But don’t make me wait too long, Mrs Hope. I’m a man after all and my desire is strong.’
‘There’s no need to wait.’ She felt suddenly shy; she bent her head against his chest and felt the pounding of his heart. ‘You can stay.’
He lifted her chin with his finger and kissed her lips, his mouth was firm yet tender. ‘Only if you’re sure,’ he whispered.
She lifted her arms around his neck and held him in a swift embrace. ‘I’m sure.’
They walked hand in hand back to the cottage, not speaking, but merely gently squeezing fingers. She was surprised by his actions, for he made her sit down while he made a dish of tea from the hissing steaming kettle, and he finished cutting the bread which she had left on the table, and then bade her come and eat and drink. She didn’t speak but watched his every movement. What manner of man was this who didn’t want to take her straight to the mattress?
When they had finished eating, and she didn’t eat much, finding it hard to swallow, he rose from the table and put more kindling on the fire and then stood in the doorway looking out.
He turned round and smiled and held out his hand. ‘Come and look, the geese are flying in on their way to the feeding grounds.’
She stood next to him, the morning smelt sweet and pungent, the smoke from their wood fire and others from the cottages on the cliff was drifting down to the river, aromatic scents of brushwood and apple and pine cones filling the air, while above the water flew vast flocks of greylag geese and, close behind, came the long necked brent, barnacle and Canada geese.
He put his arm around her and led her back inside and closed the door. She trembled a little but he appeared not to notice, yet he led her, not to the bed but to the chair, where he sat down and drew her onto his lap. He lifted her hair from her shoulders and gently kissed her neck and throat.
‘Why are you afraid?’
She looked plaintively at him. So he had noticed. ‘I was allus afraid,’ she whispered. ‘Every time.’
‘You won’t be afraid with me.’
And she wasn’t, for every touch and caress was gentle, yet persuasive, his kisses light on her body, tempting her with their seductiveness, yet still she sat in his lap, her body soft and yielding, feeling the hardness of him beneath her. Her body was pulsating, her breathing coming faster, this was such bliss, this wasn’t something she had known before. Why didn’t he take her? She stood up from his knees and with her eyes drawn to his she lifted the hem of her shift, drawing it up above her head so that she stood naked before him.
He closed his eyes for a second and then opening them, he followed the line of her body with his hands, touching her breasts, arousing her nipples and running his fingers down the pale dappled stretch marks on her belly, round the curve of her hips and through the fine bush of pubic hair. ‘You are so lovely. I thought – I thought I could imagine how you would be, but – you are so much
more beautiful.’
He rose from the chair and with a swift movement lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She reached up to help him unfasten his shirt buttons and as he turned to drop it onto the chair, she gazed at his shoulders and back, tanned from the sun and sea air. But she flinched as he started to unfasten the buckle on his belt, as another memory returned, and she touched the scar on her face.
He saw the movement and bent over her, taking her fingers from her face and studying her. ‘Has someone hurt you?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘But I deserved it.’
He lay down beside her and held her in his arms. ‘No woman deserves to be hurt, though I know I hurt you with unkind words, and I shall always regret them. You’re meant to be cherished. To be loved.’
‘I know nothing of love with a man, onny with my childre’.’ She looked up at him, her eyes wet with emotion. ‘Can tha teach me?’
‘I know nothing of love either,’ he answered, kissing each moist eyelid in turn. ‘We must learn together.’
24
The long cold winter became her summer. Annie felt like the chrysalis which Robin had shown her while they were on the Wolds. It had hung on a fine silken girdle from a plant stem, and he assured her that soon it would be gone and in its place a butterfly would emerge. ‘Lady of the Woods,’ he’d said, ‘the prettiest of them all.’ She hadn’t believed him, not until they returned to the place and found the shrivelled pupa cast on the ground and above them a free and fluttering orange tip butterfly.
She felt that she too had cast off her old life. She had shed her past, forgotten her beginnings, let slip even the memory of her children, as love and passion absorbed her. The desire of wanting Matt replaced all else and her days were spent watching for his ship; riding through the night to greet him and rowing with breathless anticipation towards the Breeze; mounting the ladder with practised ease and wanting him so desperately that there was no waiting for him to join her in the cottage before dawn, just falling into each other’s arms with an urgency born of need, the moment they reached his cabin.
Exhilaration gripped her; she was invincible. She took tremendous risks, drawing Roxton away from the river as the men unloaded the goods and leading him on a chase through the saltmarsh and scrub land and into the darkness of Hesslewood where she lost him. She had bought a donkey-and-cart with her own money and carried her goods in baskets in the back of the cart through the streets of Hessle and under the very nose of Roxton. She stopped him and asked if he would buy some ribbons for his lady and he brusquely turned away and didn’t hinder her; she cracked her whip and laughingly drove off to visit the big houses where she asked for the master and unloaded the ankers of brandy and geneva which they so gratefully received.
‘I must visit my father.’ Matt lay on the bed next to her, stroking her thigh. ‘I haven’t seen him for months. I’ll go tomorrow.’
‘Don’t be long away, will you? I’ll miss you. I’m greedy for you. I can’t bear it when you’re away.’
He rolled over and pulled her towards him. ‘I’ll miss you too.’ He placed his lips around her nipples and she breathed in a sigh of delight. Her fears had gone that first day, when he’d soothed and enticed her, seeking to please her, finding hidden secret places of ecstacy, so secret that she had never known before that they were there. Her body throbbed. Never had she felt so desirable. Never had she thought she could give or receive such pleasure. Never had she felt so much love.
* * *
When he returned he was brimming over with glee. ‘Father has been invited out yet again. A neighbour, Mrs Burnby, was visiting when I arrived and has invited him to a supper party. He declined of course, and then she asked me. I too declined saying that I had to get back to my ship. “Oh” she said, “But it’s not for another three weeks, Captain, you have time to come back again.” Again I declined, but then she went on to say that it was to be a masked party – and what do you think?’ He picked Annie up and whirled her round. ‘I said I would only go if I could bring a partner.’
Annie stared at him. What was he talking about?
‘She was a bit put-out I think. I’m sure she was angling for me to partner that whingeing niece of hers who was once set on Toby. Anyhow, she could hardly withdraw the invitation, and then father said that if I was going, then he might as well go also.’
‘So who is this partner that you’re taking?’ Annie said resentfully. This was a part of his life which she couldn’t share, and could never be a part of.
‘Why you, of course. Who else is there? Who else is there that I should choose to partner me?’
Hungrily he began to undress her, fumbling with the buttons of her blouse in his eagerness to hold her.
‘Stop.’ Her lips mumbled beneath his. ‘How can I partner you? How can you take me, a waif and stray?’
Sometimes she teased him, reminding him of the time when he had said such things. He became penitent, or sometimes angry with her for reminding him. He was angry now.
‘Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.’ He pinned her down on the bed. ‘I will if I want to.’ Then his eyes became soft as he gazed down at her. ‘I want you to come with me, I hate it when I’m away from you. I wanted you with me on the Wolds when I visited my father, I want you with me on the Breeze, only I know that it is too dangerous.’ Then he laughed. ‘Do come. Josh can take care of the running this once. We won’t be needed. Think what a jest it would be!’
What a jest indeed. To go from a life on the dank and muddy wharves of the river to a fine party in a great house. It was a great house as she well knew. But Matt didn’t know that she had been, he didn’t know that she had met Mrs Burnby, that she had sold her satins for her gowns, maybe even for one that she would wear for the party.
She smiled. She had gone into the great house by the back door. If she attended the party with Matt she would enter by the front. What a jest. But it was time now for some truths to be told.
‘Matt?’ She reached up and touched his lips. ‘I’ve something to tell you.’
He sighed and held her close. ‘Can’t it wait?’
When she told him that she had met Mrs Burnby and her two nieces and that she thought that it was probably his father who had turned her off his land, he was more determined than ever that she should go.
‘But my voice will give me away, even if I wear a mask. You knew that I was a nobody – no, be honest, you did,’ she added as he started to protest. ‘And besides I haven’t a dress. How can I go in what I have?’
He grinned. ‘Now you’re making a typical woman’s excuse. There’s a trunk full of silk which will make a dozen dresses. And as for your voice – well. I know – we’ll say that you’re Dutch and that you don’t speak much English! You could be, quite easily, with your fair hair, and if anyone asks you an awkward question then just shake your head and say that you don’t understand. I’ll say that you’re a widow, which is true, and that your name is, erm – Annaliese Hope.’
She started to laugh. What a lark it would be, and if they were found out, what did it matter. Matt wouldn’t care and neither would she.
They opened up a chest and brought out silks and satins, and then Annie remembered the other chest, the one she hadn’t yet looked in, which was covered in rugs and cushions which Toby had said he’d stolen from his father’s house. They took off the coverings and beneath they found a sandalwood chest, sweet smelling and carved with scrolls.
‘I remember this,’ said Matt quietly. ‘I didn’t know that Toby had it. It was our mother’s. She kept it in her room.’
‘Toby said he brought things away bit by bit, so that no one would notice,’ Annie stroked the carved lid. ‘Though how anyone could fail to miss this I can’t understand.’
‘The servants would know. They would just be pandering to Toby’s games.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘He could get away with anything, could Toby.’
She took his hand and held it. ‘And you c
ouldn’t?’
‘Not then.’ He lifted his head and laughed. ‘But now I can. Let’s show them all, Annie. We can do whatever we want.’
The chest contained silks which Matt had brought from abroad, clocks and trinkets which Toby had brought from his father’s house; and wrapped in a muslin cloth was a string of pearls. Matt placed them around Annie’s neck. ‘Pearls for a princess,’ he said and kissed her.
‘But I can’t wear these,’ she protested, fingering them lovingly. ‘It doesn’t seem right.’
‘It doesn’t seem right that they’re locked away in a chest. Perhaps they were my mother’s, or maybe Toby bought them intending to give them to Clara.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? But now they’re yours. And pearls should be worn,’ he added. ‘They need the contact with a woman’s skin to give them their sheen, their translucency. Keep them on,’ he said and gently touched her throat, ‘and by the time we go to the party they will be beautiful. Their colour will be matched only by the colour of your skin.’
At the bottom of the chest was a sheet covering a large yet soft bundle. They opened it out and shook it and out spread a gown of silk, the most beautiful thing that Annie had ever seen. It was the colour of a newly opened damask rose, a flush, a blush of a virgin’s cheek, with silver silken threads running though it. The neckline was low and heartshaped, the skirt full and trailing.
‘There!’ Matt said triumphantly. ‘There is your gown.’
Annie wept. ‘I can’t. I don’t deserve it. It’s meant for a lady.’
‘You will be a lady,’ he laughed. ‘Even if it’s only for one night. Mrs Trott will dress your hair – yes she will. We’ll give her something.’
Annie smiled through her tears and picked out a piece of shiny satin from the heap on the floor. ‘Yes, she will. We’ll give her this to add to all the others in her chest.’
