He had not been there long when the newly engaged housekeeper, Mrs Prince, admitted Ben Gartmore to the parlour. Monty laid down the book of sermons he had been attempting to read.
“Ben? This is a surprise. Do come in.”
“Beg pardon for disturbing you, my lord, but… none of the others would say nothing, and I thought you ought to know.”
“That sounds ominous. Will you sit, Ben?” When he hesitated, Monty added, “We are brothers, after all.”
Ben smiled, and perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair. “It’s just that… the ladies that have moved into Oakdown House…”
“Ah,” Monty said, understanding.
“Exactly, my lord! After church, there were… some comments. Some of the villagers are not at all happy about it. They think…” He went crimson. “They’re worried that the house might be—”
“A brothel?” Monty said.
Ben nodded. “I mean, several of us said it’s not like that, they’re just chambermaids and such like that got taken advantage of. Well, not all of them. Kitty was with a circus, would you believe? A tightrope walker. But most were in service, and there are plenty of tales of what goes on with the footmen and grooms, or the sons of the house, so it’s not as if it’s anything unusual, but you know what people are like.”
“I know,” Monty said. “I never heard of it at Drummoor, though.”
“Mrs Compton’s very strict with the maids, keeps them well away from the footmen. And from Lord Gilbert. Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that?”
Monty smiled sadly. “Gil is a disgrace, but I do not believe he would amuse himself with a housemaid. Still, it is better not to give him the opportunity, so I cannot fault Mrs Compton for her caution. Thank you for telling me this, Ben. I shall have a word with the verger and sexton, so that they may at least correct any misinformation about Miss Kelly’s young women. And perhaps next week, I shall preach on the subject of Christian charity and compassion.”
After Ben had gone, Monty dined alone again, spent a couple of hours staring into the fire and then went early to bed, only to lie awake for hours thinking of a lady with green eyes and a mass of dark hair that he had never yet seen tumbling loose about her shoulders. Melissa. Lady Monty. His wife.
~~~~~
Melissa’s days were busy. As a new bride, there were wedding callers almost every day, struggling through the snow to offer their congratulations and ask awkward questions about her family and look down their noses at her when she chose not to answer. Some of them were very stiff and she understood that. She would be stiff about it too, in their place. Who was she, after all? Nobody. A girl of unknown parentage, with no rank, no fortune, no position in society.
Until now. Now she called a marquess brother-in-law, and she was humbled by the way Lord Carrbridge always appeared in the drawing room when there were callers, and gently steered away difficult questions by talking about Monty’s living, or the progress on the parsonage. Lord Humphrey and Lord Reggie and their wives came often, too, riding over the fields on alternate days so that one or other pair were always there. The aunts and uncles were still rather unbending, but from Monty’s brothers and their wives she received nothing but kindness.
It surprised Melissa to discover that she missed Monty when he was away at Kirby Grosswick. She had barely noticed his absence when he had gone north to see Lord Gus married, but at the time she had not long arrived at Drummoor and everything was new and strange and difficult, and she was quietly terrified. Now, she had been there for almost two months, and it had begun to feel like home. She was no longer frozen with fear, and the bad dreams had almost vanished. It seemed unlikely that Lord Bentley would appear in wrathful pursuit.
As for the quiet man she had married, he had begun to grow on her rather. He never shouted at her or rebuked her, and although he had grumbled sometimes, in the end he had always surrendered and given her exactly what she wanted. And here she was, safely married. Well, not quite safely, not yet, but in a little under three weeks she would be of age, and then she might be safe. Surely then she would be safe.
But she felt guilty, too. Poor Monty! He had looked at her with such warmth, such anticipation, and she had turned him away. Yet not a word of reproach had he spoken. He went off to his own room every night as she went to hers, and he made not the least protest. Good, kind Monty! Always so understanding, so tolerant, so forgiving.
Had he ever lost his temper? She had asked Lady Carrbridge that question once, and she had laughed and said, “I have only heard of him rising to anger once. You know Ben Gartmore, I believe? And you know his circumstances, that he is a natural son of the eighth marquess, so, of course, when Lord Carrbridge found out about him, he expressed a wish to help Ben, in short, to set him up in a profession of his choosing. Monty remonstrated with him quite forcefully, I am told, since he had always been refused his wish to take orders and here was the illegitimate son getting something that the legitimate son could not have. He was very cross about it, apparently, and one can quite see his point.”
“He got his wish in the end,” Melissa had said, wondering what a very cross Monty might look like.
“Oh yes!” Lady Carrbridge had chuckled and added, “He made a thorough nuisance of himself, spending all his money on anyone who asked for it. In the end, it was easier to let him have his way. At least he is being useful now. And he will not give away all his money when he has you to consider, my dear. Marriage always settles a man.”
Melissa wondered about that, for Monty seemed very settled already to her. On the contrary, his wife was very much an unsettling factor, arriving out of nowhere and claiming a husband, and then pushing him to marry quickly, and concealing matters of import from him. And she wondered, too, in her darker moments, alone in her bed at night, how he would react when he knew everything, and whether he would be very cross with her, or whether his forgiving nature would be dominant that day.
~~~~~
Monty returned to Drummoor both eager to see his wife again, and at the same time nervous about it. At least at Kirby Grosswick she had not been constantly in front of him, sharing their apartment, and the breakfast table, and the whole long evening. Connie, in her delightful way, had outfitted the new bride in some ravishing gowns well suited to her new status, but Melissa’s décolletage, the slender throat and that mass of artfully arranged hair distracted him beyond endurance. He dared not touch her, and certainly not kiss her, and yet how much he longed to. He was half mad with longing. He spent the hours after dinner pretending to read a book, and avoiding Melissa as much as possible. It was just as well that Connie was still confined, or otherwise she would certainly have noticed and asked awkward questions.
His refuge was the library, where he could usually find the solitude he needed for his peace of mind. One morning, not long after breakfast, he went there in search of a particular book of sermons for inspiration. He found, instead, Lady Hardy weeping quietly in a corner.
“Lady Hardy? Are you unwell? May I get you anything to relieve your distress?”
“Oh… oh, no, I thank you. You are most kind, but… I am quite well.”
“Shall I send for your maid?”
“No, no! I shall be better directly. I beg your pardon, this is most unlike me.”
“It is indeed,” he said, “which makes me the more concerned. Have you… forgive me if this is impertinent, but have you quarrelled with Mr Merton?”
“Oh, no! Nothing of the kind, I assure you, it is just that—” A long pause. “Forgive me, I must not burden you with my troubles.”
“I am a man of God,” he said, gently. “If it will help you to talk, I am very happy to listen.”
“Thank you!” she said. “And you are a married man, now, so you may advise me, may you not?”
Monty’s heart sank, but he answered sincerely, “I will offer my advice, if I can.”
She wiped her eyes, and turned to him with such hope in her face that he was shaken. This was his life
now, to be accepted as the recipient of every trouble, a confidant and adviser, and however ill-qualified he felt himself to be, he could, perhaps, impart some comfort to a distressed lady. So he sat, and composed himself, and prepared to listen.
“My story goes back some years, to when I was sixteen,” Lady Hardy began. “I was an innocent but…” She paused, took a deep breath. “I beg your pardon, but is there any brandy here?”
He fetched her a glass, and one for himself, for he suspected he might need it. She took a gulp of the liquid, then set the glass down.
“You did not know my cousin, Mr William Allamont. Connie’s father. He died long before Lord Carrbridge met his wife, but I grew up in his shadow. He was an evil man, Lord Montague, evil. He did things… forgive me, but I must be specific. He did something to me that no man should do, except to his wife.”
“Good God!” Monty exclaimed, unable to suppress his revulsion. “That is… I have not the words!”
“Indeed,” she said, with a wry grimace. “So most normal men would say. It only happened once, I made sure of that, but it left me with… the deepest fear of… of men. Of… the intimacy between a man and a woman.”
“That is not to be wondered at. And yet you married.”
“Indeed, for my situation at home with my stepmother was such that anything was preferable, even marriage. And I had the most astonishing good fortune, for it so happened that my husband was a man who felt a similar revulsion of intimacy.”
“Ah,” Monty said, understanding. That accounted for the lack of children of the marriage.
“But then something miraculous happened, for I fell in love with Daniel Merton, and he with me. And with my husband dead, and my year of mourning over, our betrothal was the natural and happy conclusion. But…”
“But you are terrified,” Monty said gently.
“I am. You understand, do you not? And Daniel knows all my story, so he would understand, if I asked him to… to wait. To give me time. Do you think? Am I wrong to ask it of him? Must I submit? For I am so afraid!”
“No man of honour would force you to submit,” Monty said slowly. “Mr Merton would certainly understand, and if he loves you he would willingly give you all the time you need to accept his love. But…”
Her face fell. “But? You think it wrong of me to ask such a thing of him?”
“Who can say what is right or wrong, within a marriage? It is for the husband and wife each to make their peace with the other and their commitments and wishes and fears. It is not wrong, but it is, perhaps, cruel.”
“Cruel?”
“Lady Hardy, let me be very frank with you. For a man, such matters are not confined to the bedchamber only. He cannot set them aside at will. He spends the whole evening with his wife, admiring her smooth skin, the softness of her form, the gentle tones of her voice and the brightness of her eye. His thoughts are inevitably drawn to that hour when they will be alone together and all these delights will be his. He cannot help this, for it is his nature. So it is, anyway, for almost all men. The need for a woman is as real, as urgent, as the need for food in a starving man, and just as painful. And imagine then how it feels to be turned away at the bedroom door, to be rejected — only a saint could not feel hurt and resentful.”
She nodded, saying nothing. He could see it was not the answer she had hoped for.
“A man needs his wife,” Monty said quietly. “He needs the comfort of her arms, and if that need is not met, it will eat away at him until he becomes a different man.”
“Then I must submit,” she said in a low voice.
“Do not think of it as submitting,” Monty said. “Rather, you offer your husband a great joy, the gift of your love, and trust him to deal gently with you.”
“That I understand,” she said. “But his great joy is nothing but pain and fear to me. I do not know how women force themselves to it time after time.”
Monty smiled. “Would it surprise you to know that women — some women, anyway — enjoy such occasions every bit as much as men do? You look astonished, but it is so, I assure you. My father had a mistress who took it upon herself to initiate each of his sons into the gentle arts of the bedchamber. I was seventeen when my turn came, and I can assure you that she enjoyed herself a vast deal, and just as much as I did. Perhaps not all women are so, or perhaps their husbands have not had the benefit of such expert tuition, but most women do not dislike the act of love at all, and as for pain… there is no pain after the first time.”
“No pain?”
“No. I imagine that humankind would have died out long since if that were so. Put your trust in your husband, Lady Hardy, and in God’s infinite wisdom, and all will be well.”
And she smiled for the first time. “Thank you! So many clergymen are nothing but censorious, or would tell me only that it is my duty — which I already know. But you understand matters temporal as well as spiritual, and have shown me nothing but compassion. You are a good man, Lord Montague.”
But Monty was left hollow and empty, and wishing that he had less understanding of matters temporal, at least where they concerned his own hopes and fears.
15: Currant Cake
The cold, snowy weather had now given way to milder days, which set the Drummoor gutters gurgling with meltwater. The wagons of furniture for the parsonage were sent off while the roads were in that brief interlude between deep snow and deep mud.
Melissa was wild to move there too. Drummoor was very pleasant, there was no denying, but she must not get used to scores of servants, and two full courses on the table every night. The longer she delayed the move, the harder it would be. And there was always that niggle of worry that Lord Bentley might still be looking for her. If he traced her to Drummoor, then he would be told that she had married and moved away, and then he might give up and not follow her to Kirby Grosswick. Whereas if she were still living there, she could not avoid receiving him.
“If we wait, the roads will be nothing but bog for months,” she said to Monty over their morning chocolate. “There are three bedrooms ready, and a room we can use for dining in as well as a parlour, and the kitchen is in good order. I do not want to wait here for months and months.”
“There is still a great deal of work going on,” Monty said, frowning. “It is not fit for a lady. The parlour is the only room with a carpet.”
“So far, but it will not take long to make the other rooms presentable.”
“But the carpenters are still replacing the wood panels,” he objected. “Truly, Melissa, there is no purpose to you living in a half-derelict house. It will not be comfortable for you. Pray let me be the best judge of what is appropriate for my wife.”
She slammed down her chocolate cup. “Really, Monty, do not treat me like a child! I may judge for myself what is appropriate, and I assure you I am not at all accustomed to luxury. If you had seen my attic bedroom at Ben— at my home, you would appreciate that two rooms and a bedroom is more than adequate for my needs. I do not want to stay here indefinitely, an unwanted guest in your brother’s house, when I might be enjoying my own establishment. You are cruel to deny me the pleasure of my own home, Monty.”
His lips thinned, and his breathing grew ragged, as if he struggled with some violent emotion, and for a moment she held her breath, wondering if she was now to be confronted with very cross Monty. But he composed himself, and when he spoke, it was with his usual calmness.
“Let it be as you wish, my dear. What kind of husband would I be to deny you such pleasure?”
And then she felt like a worm.
~~~~~
The move was made, and Melissa had to agree that the house was half-derelict. Someone had repaired the roof, and all the chimneys had been swept, but most rooms were stripped down to bricks, with the woodwork gone, even the floorboards in some rooms. But she had a warm parlour to sit in, and a dining room to eat in, and she had a cook and a housekeeper and two house-parlour maids, and a groom who acted as a footman, and she had Ma
rgaret as her lady’s maid. In addition to Monty’s valet, and Ben Gartmore and another man who was bringing the garden back from its previous wilderness, they were quite a large household. And just next door lived Bridget Kelly and her girls, who were in and out all day long, filling the house with girlish laughter and warmth. As the repair work went on, the constant banging and whistling and sawing reminded her that eventually the house would be just as she had imagined it.
In her mind’s eye, the house was very like Bentley Hall, as it had been in the happy years after the late earl’s third marriage, when the halls had echoed to childish laughter and Melissa herself had almost been caught up in it. Patience had been something like a mother to her, and Alice, Charlotte and Delia something like sisters, and the earl had been away a great deal and the two boys were at school. But gradually things had changed. Money was suddenly in short supply, and Randolph and Cornelius had grown up to be unpleasant young men. Patience changed, too, and was often to be found weeping in corners, or was ill for long, dreary spells. Melissa had retreated to her former invisibility, but she had never forgotten the good years, and now she walked through the empty, echoing rooms of the parsonage and saw them filled with light and colour and music and joyful faces.
Their first dinner at the parsonage was not a success. Since the cook had had no notice of their coming, there was no meat in the house, and not much else either, but Monty made no complaint, and they played cribbage together very companionably after dinner, and went early to bed.
But the next day was a disaster. The morning chocolate was late, and barely palatable, although Monty drank it all, with a grimace. But then breakfast was nothing but stale bread and cheese, and Melissa spent the next two hours going through the stores with Mrs Green and trying to persuade her to do better.
“It’s not what I’m used to, milady, and that’s a fact. Always had my own kitchen maid before this, and how I’m supposed to manage without neither kitchen maid nor scullery maid is beyond me. What with a full dinner for his lordship every day, and meals for the servants’ hall as well, I don’t see how I have the time to make cakes and all these fancy breads you asked for, milady.”
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