by Bianca Bloom
We had only just moved over to the snuff boxes when he held me by the waist and kissed me slowly, his tongue exploring my mouth as his hand moved up to touch my bosom.
I pulled away nearly instantly. “Adam,” I hissed, “This is my house.”
“That never stopped you before, my darling,” he crooned, stepping closer again and feeling around the back of my dress.
I stepped behind one of the couches, holding out a hand. “My husband is one room away. If he were to see us, not only would you be disgraced, you would be disfigured.”
In fact, it was an empty threat. I did not think that Hamilton was the sort of man who solved problems by hurting people, and I was glad of it. After all, when he had signed for his lady friend’s debts he had not attempted to hurt her, her faithless husband, or the debt collectors. In fact, he had hurt only himself, and as far as I could tell he abhorred violence. It was one of the many reasons I had suddenly become glad that I was married to him.
Still, there was no need for Adam Taylor to know that. He had taken my outstretched hand and begun holding it, kissing my wrist. “But I must see you, darling. I long for you.”
“As soon as you are back from London,” I told him feebly. “We can meet in the hills, in the old place, as long as you leave me now!”
He dropped my hand, laughing. “Well, I shouldn’t like to wait a month. But I’m not overly fond of duels, so I suppose I shall have to.”
I made for the door, and he shook his head. “We have not spent nearly enough time looking at snuff boxes. Will not your family grow suspicious?”
After I made sure both doors to the room were wide open, and that I was standing in full view of one of them, I made a few remarks about the snuff boxes. When I could no longer bear Adam’s company, I rushed off to the drawing room, not even looking to see whether Adam had gone to join the men or if he had found a way to relieve the tension that had gripped his nether regions first.
45
In the parlor, at least, I had a moment to think. Fran’s playing was soothing for us all, and after that even Grace joined in for a few pieces. The elder Mrs. Taylor seemed to think it silly that a young girl should be allowed to stay awake with a more varied company until a very late hour, but I did not bother to tell her that Gracie was much older than she looked. I only clapped all the louder for my daughters.
When it was past time for the gentlemen to rejoin the party after their smoking break, I went to check on them. The old granny took it upon herself to follow me, which ended up being rather wise, for Peter exchanged a few words with her that made her pull me aside most forcefully.
“Thank you for having us to dinner, Lady Bell,” she said, the tightest of smiles playing across her lips. “I’m afraid I have decided that your daughter, though a lovely girl, is not the right match for my grandson.”
At last, my prayers were answered, and I thought of the sadness that this news would provoke in order to avoid the temptation to smile. For it seemed that it would be hard to put anything past the dowager, and if she suspected that her grandson had been tricked into breaking off the prospective engagement, she would surely find a way to make sure that a marriage took place.
“Mrs. Taylor,” I told her, thinking that her coldness must have played some part in Adam’s callous nature. “I am willing to accept this news, though it saddens me to hear it.”
Indeed, I was not sad to hear it. Or rather, I was only sad for one reason. And that was because it would likely prove devastating to my daughter.
“Could we not bring the young people in?” I asked. “It’s only that my Flora has been so very mistaken in her views, I fear she will not believe this news if she does not hear it from Peter’s lips.”
Regina Taylor was plainly ready to refuse. “She will have to believe it. Why, you are her own mother! Why should she not believe you.”
I shook my head. “Please, Mrs. Taylor. I will accept any part that my neglect may have played in allowing Flora to get out of my house for clandestine meetings with Peter, but I fear such actions will only be repeated if we do not force the young people into some sort of confrontation.”
She raised her gaze to mine, clearly wondering whether I was providing a good natured warning or issuing a threat. Part of it was sincere. I knew that if Flora only heard from me that she was not to be engaged, or even if she got some sort of letter of apology from her beloved, she would likely be running over to the Taylor estate every day until she got answers about the death of her domestic dreams. Worse, Peter might well take advantage of these visits as opportunities to have his way with Flora, freed as he was from the prospect of a marital yoke.
Eventually, with a great sigh, Mrs. Taylor assented. “Very well, then. I suppose they may as well have it out. What say we leave them to say their goodbyes in the drawing room, after we get all of the others out?”
46
Afterwards, I could not be sure whether it was wise to leave Flora and Peter together in the drawing room. Young Peter soon came out, his face quite red, and we could hear Flora’s wailing from the drawing room even from outside the house.
Flora did not accompany the rest of the family outside, and all the Taylors piled into our carriage with the greatest possible haste.
After the whole party left, rather too quickly and with hardly a word, I went back to the drawing room and got Flora to bed. For while she could not stop crying, at least she could walk, and Esther’s stern warning (“A lady is not carried to her bed, miss”) was enough to convince her to lean on me as we hobbled to the bedroom.
Leaving her with Esther, I wiped tears from my face and decided that I should go speak with her father. In fact, I reminded myself, I wasn’t about to speak with her father, I was about to speak with her second stepfather. Somehow, he seemed much more concerned for her welfare than Sean had ever been, and his understanding of her was apparently much more sophisticated than Gilbert’s ever was.
As, apparently was his understanding of her would-be fiancé. He was ready to explain his tactics as soon as he saw me.
“I must apologize to you, darling, for it was cruel,” he said, sitting on the drawing room sofa with my hands in his. “But she loved him, and he was so very unsuitable, and I simply could not think of any other way of doing it.”
I sighed. “Yes, she is in quite a state, but I agree that he must have been unsuitable if he was meeting her in the hills without any promise of marriage. How did you do it, then?”
Hamilton related what had happened during the minutes that I lured Adam away from the men. As they sat smoking, my husband let slip one or two cryptic little comments on his financial difficulties, all the while encouraging the young Mr. Taylor not to worry, as he would be sure to “come up with some kind of dowry for the stepdaughter, even if it is only a few ewes.”
This made Mr. Peter Taylor quite worried, and he began to ask about the state of things. Hamilton said, with a twinkle in his eye, that it was no wonder the estate was so indebted and run down, as its management had been left to a woman for years after the death of the previous Lord Bell.
At this, I stood in indignation. “Say what you will, you could not have run this estate any better,” I snipped at him.
He stood up, kissed me, and drew me down onto his lap. “You have managed it beautifully, darling,” he whispered in my ear, and I stopped fighting him. “Indeed, you have run it better than any man ever has. And if Mr. Peter Taylor was stupid enough to believe otherwise, that rather goes to show that he was not good enough for our Flora, is that not right?”
I nodded, and he continued the story. After he had “confessed” the perilous finances of the estate, it took only minutes for Mr. Peter Taylor to have a change of heart. He stammered some things about not being able to support a wife yet, and how he needed to make his own fortune before he could think of such things. Hamilton was kind and sympathetic until he “learned” that the youngest Taylor was ready to break off his engagement.
At this, he g
rew very serious and disapproving, and repeatedly attempted to talk the young man back into marrying the young lady. When forced to refuse again and again, Mr. Peter Taylor became stubborn, and Hamilton wondered whether they still had a minute before the uncle would come into the room and perhaps disrupt the whole discussion.
Deciding to take the risk, Hamilton drew a piece of paper from his desk and prepared his pen and ink. Since the young man was not watching him scribble, he was able to write a few nonsense lines before replacing the paper with a previously drafted contract.
The document was a simple one. It stated, quite plainly, that Mr. Peter Taylor had never been engaged to Miss Flora Sutherland, nor had he planned to enter into such an engagement. It was, Hamilton explained to me, both meant to prove to Flora that her beloved did not mean to try again, and to serve as possible grounds for blackmail if somehow Mr. Taylor discovered that our family was rich and decided to try his luck another time.
At the end of the story, I could do nothing but kiss my husband. “Well,” I said, still thinking guiltily of all the kisses I had bestowed on Adam, “You are abominably clever.”
He smiled. “I should like to think so. All’s well that ends well, eh? But I have to say, my dear, you are looking rather exhausted.”
It was an astute observation, not an offensive one. Our long night together had left me rather peaked, and though I slept for hours in the afternoon in anticipation of my duties as hostess, I did not seem to have recovered.
“I know,” I told him, and I struggled to my feet. “But I have to see to my daughter.”
47
At first, I simply sat there while my daughter cried. She was rather too exhausted to wail, but she sobbed gently into her pillow. I felt every bit as helpless as I had when Flora was a baby, crying for hours and hours simply because she was cold, or hungry, or for some reason that I could not fathom. Without the help of my mother, I had gone mad during that time. And I felt certain that I would go mad once again. Indeed, even Esther could do nothing with the girl, and eventually left the room.
“She won’t perish if you go, too,” Esther told me, gently attempting to draw me away from Flora’s bedside.
“I know,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “But I can’t leave her here like this.”
I could not tell if it was because of Esther or whether someone else had intervened, but Hamilton soon entered.
“Flora,” he said to the back of her head. “Sit up, then. I met speak with you.”
“Leave me!” she screamed, and I was thankful that she apparently did not realize the role her stepfather had played in the end of the unofficial engagement. If she ever did figure that out, Hamilton Bell was going to have to fear for his life.
In fact, I was surprised that he did not leave the room. He only shook his head, continuing to speak to my daughter.
“You must take it from someone who understands, Flora. If you do not keep on, you’ll be doing the worst possible thing to yourself.”
“I can’t keep on,” she shrieked through her tears, finally sitting up, and he shook his head.
“You can keep on, though,” said Hamilton, looking right into her eyes. “I know that you can.”
She hit him, and I said “Flora!”. He held out an arm to keep me back.
“Your mum kept on, then,” he said. “After your father died, and your stepfather.”
At this, Flora finally stopped crying for a moment, just long enough for her to explain why she didn’t have to imitate me. “Am I to keep on, then? I can’t be as strong as mum. I’ve tried to shut my heart, but I cannot do it,” she said, beginning to cry again.
She did let Hamilton take her hand, though, rather than striking out at him again. “You don’t have to shut your heart,” he said. “And you don’t have to be strong. You only have to dress in the morning and come to breakfast, then go out with me to see to one of the broken down carts.”
She pouted. “I don’t see why I should have to fix a cart. I’ve never done such a thing in my life.”
“That,” said Hamilton Bell, “That is precisely why you must start. Tomorrow, though. Tonight, you sleep.”
And she did sleep. Not right away, but when I woke in the morning, my daughter was still sleeping. And when I woke her and told her to dress, she did not fight me.
After all, breakfast and a broken cart were waiting.
48
The next month was one of the best I could remember. I spent much more time with my husband, and soon a few weeks had passed since he had passed even a few hours in his own bed. Mine was now his home.
Fran prepared to go to London, but she promised me she would not actually leave until I had found her lodging. And she stopped hounding me to find it, as she was too busy finding things to amuse Flora.
Indeed, the whole household was trying to amuse Flora, with limited success. Although she put on a brave face around me, the words of Hamilton’s reprimand still ringing in her ears, she almost never smiled and only went on outings when we begged for her presence. Frances made her read parts of comedies, Gracie took her out riding, but her heart was not in it, which grieved me.
Finally, after one month of living in the world as a young woman without a looming engagement, Flora began to turn a corner.
The sun was particularly hot, and I was trying to persuade Grace to have a little more breakfast before she went out riding.
“You might get hungry,” I scolded her, after coming down from my room to discover that my youngest had not meant to eat anything.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve taken some bread and ham, Mama! I don’t need anything else.”
Scanning the sideboard, I looked for something else to tempt her. Maybe I could convince her to have some berries. “You could have some tea,” I worried, looking out the window to see if the blistering sun might give way to storms. That seemed to be the way of things on Skye.
“She’s not a pony herself, Mama,” said Flora, annoyed on behalf of her sister. “And even if she were, you could lead her to water, but after that she might still disobey you.”
It was not as witty as something Fran might have said, but my eyes widened as I looked at Flora. She was actually smiling.
“Grace, can you wait a minute for me? I’ll go with you, and if you starve you may put me on a spit and roast me.”
Frances laughed, and Grace smiled over at her sister, her haste suddenly forgotten. “Of course I can wait.”
Hamilton, happening upon the scene, loaded up his own plate. “Will you ladies be riding even today, then? It is uncommonly hot.”
“That is what I told them,” I insisted, but Frances only laughed. “We love to vex you, Mama. I shall have to go too, now, just so you will scold me about my own bonnet.”
“But surely you will wear one!”
“Of course, Mama. I may powder my nose for the stage, but if it is red as blood then no amount of powder will serve.”
After the three of them had all gone to the stables, I was left alone with my husband.
“Shall I tell Frances that I heard from my friend in London?” he asked me. “The Wards will be only too happy to have her indefinitely. Their five children are all married and gone, and they have more than enough space for her.”
I sighed. “But will they be like parents to her, these Wards?”
He looked up from his eggs. “They are some of my oldest friends, Marion. You know I would not allow them near Frances if I did not trust them absolutely.”
My eyes watered. “Yes, but I have never even seen London! I would not like to send Fran there without at least speaking to the pair of them.”
He took my hands. “And here I was thinking you would simply praise me for finding them.”
I smiled feebly. “Of course I am thankful, darling. Thank you.”
“And might I ask for something in return?”
This made me laugh, thinking that he would be asking some favor of the boudoir. Given that there was no time I refused him, and n
o act of love that I would not perform, it seemed rather a silly proposition. “You can ask, my darling, of course.”
“Anything?” he asked, his hand on my thigh.
I shivered. “Why, yes, my love. Anything.”
49
“I want you to let me tend to the sheep,” said Hamilton, gazing into my eyes with the barest hint of a smile playing about on his full and tender lips.
“Excuse me?” I asked, shrinking back. “My sheep?”
“Our tenants’ sheep,” wheedled my husband. “The ones that I know a great deal about, as you’ll recall.”
I stood from the table. “Really, darling, must we go through all this again?” I tried not reveal how I was nearly quivering from his attempt to overstep. “You yourself said that I have managed beautifully, and there is no reason that I should not continue to do so.”
“Yes, except that your husband needs something to do on this estate. You don’t seem to worry that I am idle, my dear.”
I snorted. “You may chose any business venture that you like, Hamilton. Our farmers are the ones taking care of the sheep. I oversee that, yes, and this is the arrangement that has worked well for all parties for some time now.”
“All parties except your husband.”
The conversation with the vicar came back to me. He had insisted that, since my first two husbands had not taken an interest in any household affairs, I had taken all of the responsibility of being a provider onto myself. Now that a man had come along who was interested in a real partnership, the vicar had reasoned, I would be a fool not to take him up on it.
“You did promise me anything, darling,” he said. “Anything within reason. Is not this request a reasonable one?”
I blushed. “It is not the sort of request that I had been expecting.”
He smiled. “Well, why would I need to blackmail you into loving me? That you do freely.”
