by Hawke, Jessa
Her luncheon, although pleasant, was lonely and boring, as it was every day in this huge house. As she ate, she watched Malcolm Scott, the gardener, trimming the hedges with his clippers. The clickety-clack of the metal blades was almost hypnotic and soothed her thoughts.
Mathias would be home for dinner, so Bridget dressed in a more appropriate dinner dress, her husband believed it important to keep up the traditions and dress properly, even if it was just for the benefit of the servants. However, she hated the restrictiveness of formal wear, especially the suffocating boned corset, which Bridget felt was far too restrictive and wore it as little as possible. Most of the time she wore a simple column dress for comfort, because most of the time her husband was not around.
From her drawing room, she heard her husband arrive, it would be ages before his valet had him undressed and ready again for dinner, she may as well go and play some music on the piano. That would help to relax Mathias; he loved to hear her play.
The grand piano was placed in the large reception hallway, as that provided the best acoustics. She would see him come down the large winding staircase, when he was ready. If there was one thing she loved about this house, it was the piano, a beautiful instrument made in Italy and she loved to play it. She sat at the piano and opened the sheet music to a piece she knew her husband enjoyed, and started to play.
He appeared, looking very smart in his dinner jacket. For all he was twenty years her senior, he was still quite a handsome man and impeccably dressed. Charlotte, one of her sisters, was married to a boat builder, and he always smelled of wood shavings. Thankfully, her husband did not smell of cows. He was a tall man, regal looking with a large nose, wide mouth and a shock of silver hair on his head. She stood up to greet him, smiling.
“Darling, I would have been happy to wait until you finished, I like that tune,” he said, holding out his elbow for her to hook into.
“That’s why I played it, Mathias, dear, so you would get a move on, I’m famished.”
Bridget positively refused to sit at the other end of the long, dark table. She had asked the servants to always set her place next to her husband. It had taken him some time to adjust, but he soon saw the sense in it. He was not altogether unapproachable, he simply had too many traditions in his head. She hoped to break them one by one.
Chapter 2
Mathias had ridden off early in the morning to some social event, a man’s thing from what she understood. This probably involved drinking and gambling, although Mathias would only ever do anything in moderation. Sometimes she wished he would just completely unwind and go wild, and then at least he would have found an outlet, a means of having fun. As it was, she could not see when he ever let his guard down and totally enjoyed himself. Maybe she was wrong, she could not know as she was never invited to these events, they were strictly men only.
Their lovemaking last night had been an uneventful affair, as it always was. The same usual position, Bridget on her back, he quickly penetrating her. Before long she would hear his usual grunt as he quickened his pace, and then it would be all over. If she was quick, she might get her own enjoyment, but he did not wait for her, why should he? What happened in the bed was for his benefit, not hers. Afterwards, he never lingered, he simply got out of her bed and returned to his own bedroom. She had tried to spice up their lovemaking, suggested different positions, but he simply looked at her aghast and absolutely forbade that they should discuss it again, and that was the end of the matter.
She pondered over asking him for a trip to their home in London. At least there she could socialize more and attend dances in the city. He often had work in London, but Mathias rarely asked her to accompany him. He knew it would involve a prolonged stay, while she attended the latest balls and social gatherings, which meant he would have to attend too.
It was the nearest she got to having any fun and getting away from this staid old house. She had such a wonderful time at the balls, she could dance with as many men as she desired, with her husband’s permission of course, without getting the scandalous looks from other women. Holding a stranger’s hand, even though she was gloved, was so very daring. While deciding what new dress she would buy for her first ball of the year, she took a walk around the garden. The sun was shining hotly, so she would take a pretty parasol, and maybe even stick to the shade.
The smell of the flowers surrounding her was intoxicating. The gardener was an old man now, but he was an incredible gardener, always ensuring that the pathways were clear, he knew the mistress of the house enjoyed a stroll in the garden. It might not be classed as fun, but she loved to do nothing better than to sit in the round sun house, though it could do with the roof fixing. She would speak to Malcolm about it. He might be a bit old to fix it himself, but perhaps he could hire some help for a while.
“Ahh, Malcolm, there you are,” Bridget said as she spotted the gardener busily pruning.
“Me Lady, I always be in the garden, somewhere,” he smiled back and stopped his pruning to bow his head to the mistress of the big house. “How can I be helping her ladyship?”
“Well, not you directly, but I would like you to hire someone,” she informed him. “For instance, I’m heading to the sun house now, but there is no longer any shade to be found within it. The hole in the roof needs fixing and I fear you are a little long in the tooth to be doing it yourself,” she finished.
She stood and shaded her eyes, waiting for his reply, when she noticed a young man approaching them, pushing an empty wheelbarrow.
“Oh, I see you already have hired help then? Did Lord Hexley already speak with you over this matter?” she asked, glancing at the new arrival.
Bridget almost swooned at the sight of the handsome young man, as he neared them. He walked with a graceful step, even though he was pushing a barrow full of garden waste. His lithe body stood over six feet tall, wiry, but muscular. He wore a shirt, unbuttoned down to his navel, his lightly haired chest visible, and the sleeveless shirt displayed the rippling muscles of his arms, as he pushed the barrow. Bridget was shocked by her reaction at seeing him, her face flushed with heat and she knew it must be red from blushing.
“Ah, no, me lady, this be my son, Tristan,” Malcolm replied, looking quite proud of himself. “He be passing through is all. He be injured in one of them blasted wars, and they sent him home to heal.”
“Oh, my!” she said, a little shocked at such news. “Are you badly hurt?” she spoke to him for the first time and looked directly into his deep, brown eyes.
“Shot wound to the leg, and a few torn ligaments,” he replied in a deep, husky voice. “On my way to Scotland where I’ll be recouping and building up my strength again, before I go back, ma’am.”
“How long ago was this?” she asked, seeing that his leg looked healed.
“Some months ago, ma’am,” he replied, not sure what he should call her, seeing as he did not even know who she was, only that she was a pretty thing. “I’ve had the dressings removed for a few weeks now, and I just need exercise. I also have some leave, so I stopped off here to see my Da.”
“How very commendable, you have a brave young son, Malcolm,” she smiled at the gardener. What she was really thinking was that he had a handsome young son, but she was not about to tell him that.
“I’ll arrange for him to come and have a look at that hole in the roof, me Lady,” Malcolm promised.
Enough had been said, so she spoke no more, simply smiling and nodding to them both, then strolling on her way, heading to the summer house.
Her heart was in such a flutter, as if a whole gathering of butterflies had nested there. Tristan was certainly a handsome young man, and it was not often she got to see a man’s bare arms, and those were fine specimens. The thoughts running through her mind were scandalous; she imagined placing her lips on that thick neck and kissing at his large Adam’s apple. Oh dear, what was she thinking? She had not had such thoughts since she was much younger.
Settling herself into one
of the comfortable chairs, with a book in hand, she was unable to concentrate on the words. All she could think about wat that young man’s muscled arms, wrapped around her slender waist.
“Here I am with hammer and tools,” a deep voice resonated behind her.
“Oh!” she jumped, shaken from her deep thoughts. “I did not think it would be done so quickly.”
“I need to get as much done for my Da, while I’m still around,” he said, “he’s getting old and whilst he won’t admit it, he could do with a little help around here, the gardens are huge.”
“Yes, yes, I will speak to my husband about hiring some help for him.”
Bridget did not look at the young man while she spoke with him, she was scared that her face would give away her scandalous thoughts; instead she kept her eyes on the print of the book.
He quickly got to work on the damaged roof, and Bridget kept surreptitiously glancing over at him, her eyes flickering between the written page and his muscular body. The sun was high and the temperature in the sun house rising. After a few moments, she watched on incredulously as Tristan slipped of his shirt, baring his torso. She knew she should leave immediately; it was completely against all protocol that she should be alone with a man, let alone a half-naked one, but she could not help herself. Reluctantly she rose and started to leave the sun house, when an idea came into her head.
“Could you kindly meet me tomorrow, after luncheon, on the south facing verandah, I would like to discuss some alterations to the pond with you, if you feel you have the time to look at such a project. I will also arrange to have you on the paid staff, while you are visiting with your father, seeing as you will be doing work on the grounds.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Lady, a soldier’s pay does not stretch far,” he stopped his measuring to thank her.
“Wonderful,” she said, heading towards the door. “I will see you prior to luncheon tomorrow then. Good day to you, young Tristan,” she said, before quickly leaving without looking back, despite the overwhelming urge to do so.
Chapter 3
Bridget sprung out of bed the next morning, knowing she was to meet with the gardener’s son, Tristan. Why it excited her so much, she was not too sure, but it did. Looking at the boiled egg on her breakfast tray, she simply could not eat, so she nibbled on a dry piece of toast. She was like a love sick young lady, and must stop these thoughts in her head, but her mind took no heed of her.
The maid arrived to take her tray away and looked at her in surprise, “Is my Lady not hungry this lovely sunny morning?” she asked. Not that she had the right to ask, but she knew her Ladyship would not mind her forwardness.
“No, I crave the sunshine on this glorious day, Sally,” she almost sang. “Where is Jayne, to dress me? Is she late?”
“No, my Lady, she would have been expecting you to still be eating your breakfast,” the maid Sally, replied with a curtsy. “She’s cleaning your brown leather shoes. I’ll go down and send her up here,”
Bridget thought no more about it; she simply stretched her body and slowly climbed from her bed. Walking over to the full length window, she peeked through the white net curtaining, but there was nothing interesting to see. This did not dampen her mood, she felt young and happy and intended on staying in this mood for the whole day. Even though Mathias would be home later, she would not allow that thought to dampen her pleasant feelings. This was going to be a good day.
A knock at the door and Jayne, her personal maid, entered, when commanded. “I’m sorry, my Lady, a mark would not come from your shoe, so I was delayed. Which garments would you like to wear today, my Lady?”
“I think something white, with perhaps a little yellow, I want to feel like the sunshine today,” Bridget replied.
Jayne brought out the perfect dress, with an empire line. That would be comfortable for her walk in the garden today, but she frowned at the low bust line.
“Is this not to you satisfaction my lady?” Jayne queried, the mistress of the house usually approves her choices. “I thought the yellow flowers in this garment match your yellow hair, my Lady.”
“No, I mean yes, it’s perfect, Jayne. Bright and summery. Could you do something nice with my hair today, I want it up off my neck,” Bridget told her maid.
“You have the neck of a slender swan, my Lady, you do right to show it off,” the maid agreed.
Once Jayne had pampered her mistress and dressed her as requested, she asked if she wanted to wear any jewelry today. Bridget wanted something small, nothing that shouted out wealth, just a little something feminine. Jayne chose a small amber shaped pendant, finishing off the look for today.
The morning seemed to drag on forever and although Bridget tried to keep herself busy, her mind constantly strayed to her meeting with the gardener’s son. She was aware that her husband was due to return today, but it would probably be around dinner time. He never rushed home.
At last, it was time for her meeting with the handsome Tristan. The wind had picked up a little and blew strands of hair from the beautiful arrangement that Jayne had done that morning. She did not mind, she felt too excited to care for such details.
When she arrived on the verandah, she was surprised to find Tristan already there.
“Thank you for coming to speak with me, Tristan,” she greeted him by holding out her slender fingers.
“I don’t like to keep a lady waiting, so I arrived here early,” he explained. “As much as it disappoints me, I can’t shake your hand because mine are very grubby,” he grinned at her cheekily.
Bridget had not realized that she still held her hand out; her mind was most definitely elsewhere.
“Oh, of course,” she smiled, and moved her hand away.
“How long are you staying with your father?” she asked, hoping he would not be leaving too soon.
“I’ve arranged to do my convalescing here, the army has agreed, so I don’t need to be going to Scotland now. Helping my father in these gardens will help to build up my strength. I have a few months before I should, hopefully, get my marching orders once again,” he informed her.
“It will be good to have you around,” she smiled, a little nervously, “for your father, I mean. He will be happy to have his son home and helping him.”
“I’m going to enjoy being in your employ, my Lady,” he smiled at her, and she noticed a definite twinkle in his eye.
Bridget could tell that there was something between them, a chemistry, even though she had only just met Tristan, she felt totally at ease with him. This was difficult and complicated, not only was she a married woman, but he was a different social class to her. Her stomach was once again a quiver with butterflies, seemingly a common condition when she was in his company. Despite all the risks and difficulties she had to get to know Tristan better, her whole body desired him to be close to her.
Making the effort to discuss the work on the pond, she chose an area that was quite secluded. Standing as close to him as she dare risk, she could feel the heat emanating from his body. His smell was masculine, the odor of a manual laborer, but it was not unpleasant, despite the smell of perspiration, there was a cleanness to him. As she leant forward to point something out, the skin on his bare arm brushed against her, the contact caused her to swallow audibly and draw in a quivering breath.
“Is my Lady well?” Tristan asked, a little mischievously, “She seems a little flushed.”
Bridget felt that he was teasing her, was she so obvious. Her face flushed a deep red, and she stepped away from him.
“I am fine thank you,” she said coldly. “Can we finish the business at hand?”
“Of course, my Lady. I’m sorry to have been so presumptuous.”
She felt that he was probably mocking her again, but this time he did a better job of hiding it. Damn him for his insolence, she should be angry with him, but his cheek only attracted her more.
“Will you benefit from it here, my Lady?” he asked her, his eyes staring into hers, as i
f trying to penetrate her very thoughts. “Will you be able to look upon it often, I mean, it’s a bit of a lonely place?”
“I will see it from the library window, when I look out on a gloomy winter’s day, and it will be a serene spot, when I need to be alone.” She also wanted to add that every time she looked at it, it would remind her of him, but she kept those thoughts to herself.
