The Baron's Wife

by Maggi Andersen

  Laura bit her lip. “Yes, I suppose so.” She’d been uneasy about asking him. Did Dora sense something? “I have no doubt that Nathaniel will make an excellent husband,” she said in a firm tone.

  Dora cleared a space on the table and tucked back the sleeves of her gown. She bowed her gray-streaked, brown head over the well-worn pack of Tarot cards and removed the significator, the Page of Wands. This card always represented Laura. Cutting the deck, Dora divided it into three, then into one again. She pushed the cards across to Laura. “Shuffle and cut three times.”

  She loved her aunt especially for her strong, unshakeable convictions. Aunt Dora was her mother’s unmarried stepsister and considered the disreputable member of the family, although there were male ancestors who would surely be more worthy of the title. Adding to her sins, Dora dressed in a fashion Laura’s mother disparagingly called bohemian. Aunt Dora remained unruffled by criticism, saying merely that she would rather be known as bohemian than bourgeois. An arrow, which found its mark and enraged her mother, as Laura’s maternal grandfather had also made his money in trade.

  Determined not to allow her mother’s influence to extend as far as Cornwall, Laura looked for a good outcome from the reading as she shuffled the cards and handed them back. Dora then laid out ten cards in their familiar, cross-like pattern.

  “My goodness,” Laura exclaimed, as The Tower and the Death cards emerged. Although she didn’t understand much about Tarot, she knew they were not the cards one wished for.

  “Change,” Dora muttered, groping for her spectacles. “It’s everywhere. Understandable.”

  “Good change?”

  “Good and bad.”

  Laura shivered. She pointed to another card. “The Lovers. That’s a good sign, surely?”

  “Reversed.” Dora tapped it. “Placed as it is, it reads as a happy ending to a period of difficulty. And it crosses the King of Pentacles, a dark-haired man of means, which could mean that only through you can this man complete himself.”

  “Oh!” Laura didn’t know what to make of it. She focused on the happy ending bit.

  Dora reached for the deck. “That will do.”

  “Wait!” Laura pointed at another. “What about the King of Cups?”

  “A fair-haired man, one you must watch out for.”

  “Why?”

  Her aunt frowned. “I don’t know, but in an unexpected way he will bring an end to a difficult time.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. What about the Knight of Cups, here?”

  “The emotional seeker. He represents your quest—your search for something that’s difficult to obtain.”

  Aunt Dora began gathering up the cards.

  “That wasn’t much of a reading,” Laura protested, faintly alarmed. “You usually say so much more. I suspect there’s a lot you aren’t telling me.”

  Dora looked her most mysterious, destroying the arrangement of cards. “Some things are better not to know.”

  “You are naughty, Aunt Dora. Can’t you tell me more?”

  Her aunt shook her head. “What month was Lanyon born?”

  “November.”

  “Scorpio. The most murdered sign of the zodiac. And the most likely to commit murder.”

  Laura laughed. “He has managed to survive until thirty-two without being murdered or thrown in prison.”

  “You can laugh, Laura. But you’re Cancer. You’ll have trouble understanding a Scorpio man. They can be remote. It will be difficult for you to ever know him completely, even though you will fight hard to understand him.”

  “I like a challenge.”

  Nathaniel hadn’t kissed her again, although to be fair, the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Since the engagement appeared in the newspaper, and Nathaniel’s return from Cornwall, they’d been caught up in a whirlwind of parties and dinners with her parents. It had become impossible to talk privately. She would be treading on eggshells until she learned more about his life and understood how the past might affect their future.

  “I haven’t been alone with him since we became engaged. We’ve been so busy with social occasions. Not to mention fittings for the gown and the trousseau.” Laura knew her aunt would have no interest whatsoever in learning her Mother had engaged Worth for the wedding gown and Lucile for lingerie and tea gowns. She rose from the table to give her aunt a fond hug. “I’m so glad you’re coming to the wedding. Heaven knows when I’ll see you again. We are traveling down to Wolfram Abbey the day after the ceremony.”

  “Do you know the abbey’s history?”

  “The prior was John of Wolfram during the 12th century, Nathaniel tells me. Of the Cistercian Order. The abbey was dissolved in the 16th century after the prior was executed on a charge of treason.”

  Her aunt’s gaze settled on her, her brown eyes just as shrewd as her mother’s. “No honeymoon?”

  “Nathaniel can’t spare the time. We plan to have our honeymoon later.”

  Aunt Dora replaced the Tarot on the shelf. “If you ever need me, you know where to find me, dear.”

  ***

  Laura stood as the dressmaker pinned the hem of a new ensemble. Made for her trousseau, the promenade costume was of flowered silk and lace appliqué. After it fit to her mother’s satisfaction, they drove home in the carriage.

  Lady Parr turned to Laura as the carriage left the crowded London streets. “I haven’t explained what you might expect from the marriage bed.”

  Laura grimaced. “Oh, Mother, you needn’t.”

  Her mother’s glance was sharp. “You and Lanyon haven’t…”

  Laura didn’t know when they might have found the opportunity. She turned her ring on her finger. “He’s been most respectful.”

  Her mother nodded. “I was sure a man of Lanyon’s ilk would never overstep the line. But if he’d gone back to Cornwall without a commitment we might have lost him.”

  Laura flushed. Did her mother see her like a business arrangement, as her marriage to Father appeared to be? Did she feel any real affection for her remaining daughter?

  “Men expect their wives to be accommodating in the bedroom,” Mother continued. “You must endure, Laura, no matter how little you wish it. It is Lanyon’s right as your husband. It would be most unwise to refuse him.”

  Refuse him? Laura had no intention of it. “Didn’t you ever enjoy that with Father?”

  Lady Parr cleared her throat. “In the first few years, it wasn’t entirely disagreeable. I hope you will find it pleasurable. It is an act for the procreation of children. Once that is done…” She glanced away. “I have a booklet you might like to read.”

  “It’s really not necessary, Mother. You don’t need to prepare me. Lovemaking was often spoken of in some detail at Cambridge.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” Lady Parr said dryly. “I’m surprised you came home untouched.”

  “Your maid was with me, Mother. No doubt Agnes gave you a running commentary on everything I did while I was there.”

  “She said you spent a good deal of time with a lecturer, a Mr. Farmer.”

  “He is a friend. A group of us gathered together over luncheon to discuss the lectures.” Laura had written to her university friends and advised them of her marriage. They had all sent her their best wishes. She had not heard from Howard Farmer, however, and wondered why. She’d been aware that he found her attractive and felt rather awkward about it.

  Her mother snorted. “A poor professor who would always work in some university town would not have suited you, Laura. You would have become bored very quickly.”

  Laura was relieved when the carriage turned into their street and the conversation ended. To distract her mother, she talked about the flowers chosen for the church. She wanted to retire to her room and think about Nathaniel.

  Chapter Five

  Rain clouds threatened on the day of the wedding, held at St Margaret’s in Westminster. Laura’s mother expressed her displeasure, but even Mother had no control over the w
eather.

  Laura was thrilled with her gown. It was not what her mother wanted, but her parent was in a conciliatory mood and agreed to the style Worth proposed. The gown of ivory champagne satin damask had a floral pattern in satin on the boned bodice, with short sleeves of Micheline lace. Laura’s hair had been drawn back into an elegant chignon and cream rosebuds adorned her veil. Her bouquet was of cream roses and pale pink peonies. Cousin Georgina, Laura’s matron of honor, and Phoebe, another cousin, held up her long train. Both women wore deep rose pink, their wide-brimmed hats laden with pink roses.

  Three hundred guests including the prime minister and other notables attended. Laura walked down the crimson-carpeted aisle on her father’s arm to the strains of the “Bridal Chorus” from Wagner’s Lohengrin.

  Handsome in his gray morning suit and top hat which matched his eyes, a boutonniere in his lapel, Nathaniel stood at the altar with his best man, Horace Tothill, an old friend from university, and his two groomsmen, Ambrose Chesterfield and Phillip Dunn. Nathaniel’s side of the church was filled with friends and associates, as he had no relations; he was an only child and his parents were both gone.

  “You are breathtaking.” Nathaniel’s silver-gray eyes and dazzling smile banished her nervousness.

  Laura handed her bouquet to Georgina and took her place beside him. With a squeeze of her hand and an encouraging murmur, her father stepped away. In a sonorous voice, the minister began.

  When the ring slid on her finger and they were pronounced man and wife, she smiled into Nathaniel’s beautiful eyes with a bubble of joy.

  Laura clung to her new husband’s arm and laughed up at him as she and Nathaniel emerged from the vestry.

  The rain, which had been threatening, arrived as they attempted to leave the church. Everyone scattered as the downpour filled the gutters. Filthy brown water overflowed and spread across the pavement. Laura hesitated on the step, holding up her train.

  Nathaniel scooped her into his arms. He ran across the wet pavement and deposited her in the carriage, then followed her inside.

  Smoothing her skirts, which had suffered only a little water damage, Laura smiled at him. “You are my gallant hero.”

  The laughter faded from his eyes. “I hope to be.”

  The reception was held at the Savoy Hotel in the Strand where they were to spend the night. In the columned, gilt-mirrored ballroom, Laura danced the wedding waltz with Nathaniel, the train of her gown over her arm, his gaze bathing her in admiration. Having made up her mind to marry him, she had not questioned her decision again. On the previous night, she had slept soundly and had woken filled with joy and a sense of purpose.

  How strange. Although she hardly knew Nathaniel, she felt, as she believed he did, that they were destined for each other. She had not banished all her plans and resolutions, however. She knew herself too well. Her studies might lie in the past, but university had given her a thirst to continue broadening her knowledge and to be tested in other ways. Nathaniel had said his wife would have many duties. She was keen to embrace them, but women were forging careers in England, and she wanted to be a part of it. She would tell him when the time was right.

  The best man, Horace Tothill, claimed a dance. “You have married a good man, Lady Lanyon.”

  “I know it, Mr. Tothill.” She had judged Nathaniel entirely by instinct, dismissing rational thought, and didn’t doubt that she was right.

  “Once in Wolfram, you may hear something to the contrary. If you do, I hope you will continue to believe in him.”

  Surprised, she stared at the attractive, fair-haired man. “I would like to ask what you mean by that, Mr. Tothill, but I suspect you won’t tell me.”

  He smiled. “It must come from Nathaniel. He has chosen well. You seem a calm, patient woman.”

  Laura nodded. She was not by nature the soul of patience. With so much lying ahead of her, she shelved his advice away for when it might be useful. But it left a whisper of unease behind.

  The wedding breakfast over, Laura stood on the bottom step of the hotel staircase and threw her bouquet. She was glad when her favorite cousin, Phoebe, caught the posy. When the last of the guests departed, Laura slipped upstairs to their suite to change. She sent Mary back to Wimbledon with her wedding clothes, then came down to join her parents for a farewell drink in the hotel dining room.

  Her father drew Nathaniel aside for a brief conversation. Laura tried to hear what they discussed, but they kept their voices low. She kissed her mother, who held her against her soft bosom. “You’ve done very well, Laura, and made us proud.”

  At last, I’ve done something right. She hugged her father and kissed his bristly cheek.

  He winked at her. “Have a grand life, Lady Lanyon.”

  Lady Lanyon. Laura drew in a breath. She was a baroness and had left her father’s protection forever. Upstairs in their suite of rooms, her handsome husband would make love to her. She welcomed it but shivered with anticipation.

  “You’re not cold, my love?” Nathaniel asked.

  “No.” She searched his eyes for a sign that she was his love. That it was not merely the overused endearment she feared. After a whirlwind courtship, they hardly knew each other. But she was determined to make him love her as dearly as she knew she would love him.

  Tomorrow they departed for Cornwall, and heaven only knew when she would see her family again. It was with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that Laura took Nathaniel’s hand, and they mounted the stairs.

  Entering their hotel suite, Laura crossed the green and gold Savonnerie rug. The room’s elegance had pleased her when she’d come upstairs earlier with Mary to change. The pastel floral drapes at the windows matched the wallpaper, the furniture of rosewood. The half tester bed had made her quiver with nerves.

  Her nightgown, frilled and tucked with lavish ribbons, lay on the green satin bedcover. Laura spun away as her heart beat madly. “We have our own bathroom.”

  Nathaniel tipped the hotel page. He removed his gray tailcoat before opening the bottle of champagne just delivered, pulling the cork from the bottle with a pop.

  Laura removed her hat before the mirror. Her trunk had been sent on to the railway station. Tomorrow’s ensemble hung in the closet with a change of underwear, her toiletries on the dresser.

  Nathaniel handed her a glass of champagne and clinked his against it. “To my beautiful wife.”

  Laura was glad of the champagne. She toasted him in return. “To my gallant husband.”

  She hadn’t dared drink wine at the reception, not under her mother’s gaze. Laura had been afraid it might go to her head. The champagne was delicious, dry and fizzy. She drank deeply, hoping it would settle her nerves.

  “Your maid will help you undress. It’s been a long day. You must be tired.”

  “I’ve sent Mary home. She prefers to remain here close to her family. I shall have to find another lady’s maid.”

  “Dorcus is a good maid,” Nathaniel said. “But perhaps not quite to the standard you’re used to. She will do until you can find another.”

  Laura longed for him to kiss her. What had happened to the man who had pursued her with such passionate intent? He seemed restrained. Was this how husbands behaved?

  He flicked open the buttons on his gray satin waistcoat with his long fingers. His broad chest strained against his shirt as he undid the top button and pulled off his cravat. His movements were unhurried, while his gaze remained on her, making her tremble. She wanted him to sweep her up, carry her to the bed and ravish her before the fear set in that she would disappointment him. She wished she’d questioned her friends at university more closely.

  She put down the glass and went to the window. “Oh look! The Thames. How magnificent it looks from here.”

  “I have seen the river. I want to see you. Come here, sweetheart,” Nathaniel said from behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

  He sat on the upholstered chair and drew her down onto his lap. As she leaned again
st him she could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Was it a sign that he was as moved as her, that he desired her?

  “I hope I can make you happy.”

  “You do make me happy,” she said, surprised. She’d been so concerned about pleasing him; she hadn’t thought he might have similar concerns.

  “Cornwall will be different to anything you’ve known.”

  She smiled. “I certainly hope so. Mother can no longer order me about. It’s a heady thought.”

  His laugh rumbled in his chest. Looking up, she saw that his eyes had cleared of some indefinable worry.

  She stroked his chin, feeling the beginnings of stubble. “Soft,” she said, “and prickly at the same time.”

  “I am cursed with a heavy beard.”

  He smiled and his arms tightened around her as he began to talk of his home, Wolfram, the ancient abbey and the tiny fishing village that bore its name, the deer-filled woods and sea, the soul and the heart of the Cornish coast. It touched her deeply when his voice grew gruff with emotion.

  Laura waited for him to mention Amanda. She was filled with curiosity about his first wife. Did her loss still hurt him deeply? But of course, he did not. She would have to be patient. With that thought, she vowed to banish his sadness with the force of her love.

  “It’s growing late, and we have an early start in the morning.” He rose with her in his arms and set her on her feet.

  His touch upset her balance, and she placed her hand against his chest as he began to remove the pins from her hair, gathering them up in his big hands. He placed them neatly on the bureau. He was an orderly man, she realized as her fiery tresses swung heavily to her waist.

  He gathered the locks in his hands. “Beautiful. Streaks of gold amid burnished copper.”

  “Mother complains I go out in the garden too often without a hat.” Laura held her breath when he turned his attention to her clothes.

  Nathaniel’s quiet intensity made her terribly unsure. He helped her out of her jacket, and then unbuttoned the pearl buttons on her blouse. Stripping the exquisite pin-tucked, lace-trimmed garment from her, he laid it over the back of the chair. Her skirt and petticoat pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of them.