“Sorry to interrupt, but Letta was wondering if the two of you would mind helping her with the—” He stopped, noticing that his audience seemed to be in some sort of disarray. “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” said Jeryl and Delinda simultaneously. They looked at one another and laughed self-consciously.
“No,” said Delinda. I had just dropped something and Jeryl was helping me retrieve it. Tell Letta we’ll be along in a moment.” Ostyn looked uncertain, but nodded and retreated through the door. Delinda finished retying her laces and stood up.
“Jeryl, I hope you believe me when I say that I did not intend to use the rahnta on you without permission.”
“I have to admit it startled me,” he said, “but I cannot say it was exactly unpleasant.” He smiled that wry smile that never failed to make Delinda’s heart skip a beat. At the next moment, however, his expression turned serious. “But we were getting a bit carried away, and I do not think that is a good idea.”
Why not? Delinda almost blurted aloud. She had been about to suggest that they meet later, somewhere they would not be disturbed. Now the look on his face stopped her in her tracks. Only minutes ago he had been talking about couples and respect. The last week, as they had worked together so seamlessly, she had almost forgotten about his talk of women who were not “respectable” and his unexplained coldness after that day in the bathhouse.
Her thoughts were cut off when Jeryl spoke again. “We had better go see what Letta needs,” he said. “I think we are done working for tonight.” To Delinda’s fury, he strode to the door and stepped out without another word. She was too angry to call after him.
This is exactly what happened the last time! Not five minutes after he had been making her feel almost unendurable pleasure, he was walking away as if the incident had been a mistake. She had wondered before if this was his normal behavior and now she had little doubt. She wondered if it would have been different had the surprising burst of rahnta not arrived at that exact moment. That exact, delicious moment.
She tried to hold on to her anger, but a much less pleasant emotion struggled to the surface—hurt. Why does he not want to be with me? This thought had been in the back of Delinda’s mind for weeks, but she had not previously put it into words. Once she had accepted, truly accepted, the notion that Jeryl was her equal, the thought that they should be a couple had become very appealing.
As she watched the bond between Letta and Ostyn become ever stronger, Delinda felt jealousy. She had thought it was because Letta would no doubt become pregnant and have daughters—and sons—and she herself had been forced to abandon that dream. Now she realized it was not babies she wanted, but Jeryl. To sleep in her bed every night, to talk over intimate things, to laugh with over private jokes that no one else need understand. To be a couple.
She sighed, giving up on her anger, and went to see what Letta wanted. And to face Jeryl as if nothing was wrong, again.
* * * * *
Damnation, how did I let that happen? Jeryl stood at the top of the old dumbwaiter shaft and threaded the rope through the system of pulleys that fed it down to Ostyn’s waiting hands two floors below. Letta had been correct that his experience with a ship’s rigging made the simpler workings of this mechanism no challenge whatsoever. The task of repairing it occupied his hands, but left his mind free to chastise himself. What luck.
During the week since he had appointed himself Delinda’s business partner, he had been in a state of constant turmoil. Working alone and in close proximity had been both easy and impossible. Easy because their minds were so well matched that one started an idea and the other finished it. Even when they argued, which was frequently, it was like playing a game against a well-matched opponent. Impossible because…
Because she was Delinda. The smell of her, the sound of her laugh, the quickness of her wit—fifteen times a day he had to resist the urge to kiss her. He had sensed she would not object, but had not succumbed until finally she had reached for him at a moment when his guard was down.
They had been talking about couples and he had been trying to imagine himself back home, married and starting a family. Try as he might, he could not imagine having that easy intimacy he saw between Letta and Ostyn—or Granna and Grandfather—with anyone.
Not with anyone back home, that is. Sitting on the library sofa and gazing into those incredible golden eyes, he felt completely at ease. Or would have, if he did not have to be on constant guard against touching her.
“I’ve got it!” Ostyn’s voice traveled up the dumbwaiter shaft, bringing Jeryl out of his reverie.
“I’ll be right down to help you with that end,” he replied, and headed for the staircase. At the opposite end of the gallery, he saw Delinda’s back disappear through her bedroom door, which closed behind her. It is early for her to retire, he reflected as he went down the stairs. I should go by her room later and explain.
Explain what? He could not betray the trust of his men, no matter how firmly he believed Delinda would never bring harm to them. Even if he told Delinda about the Sheeling and the planned return trip, how could he tell her that he must leave with the men? That he would never see her plan succeed? He had fantasized about asking her to come with him, but he knew that was impossible. She would be as lost there as he would have been here, had he ended up in any other household.
You could stay, said his ever-present inner voice. They were planning to sail without you when they thought you were dead. They could still do it.
Jeryl sighed, almost wishing he believed it. His crew was far too inexperienced to sail halfway around the world on their own. Aside from himself, the most seasoned crewmen were those lost in the storm. Cristof had potential, but was a long way from being ready to pilot a damaged ship on a long voyage through uncharted waters. Besides, he loved the sea, and captaining his own ship. He would miss it even more than he would miss Delinda.
Would you really? asked the voice. You do not really know how much you will miss her, do you?
“Oh, shut up!” said Jeryl aloud as he came around the corner, almost bumping into a startled Ostyn. “Just talking to myself,” he said by way of explanation, as he stuck his head into the dumbwaiter shaft to inspect Ostyn’s work.
* * * * *
Delinda winced at the knocking on her door. “Delinda, Letta asked me to find out whether you will be coming down to breakfast.” Lora’s voice was soft, as her knock had been, and Delinda tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
“Tell her not to wait for me,” she replied. “I will get something a little later.” The though of breakfast made her stomach heave and she fought the urge to vomit into the washbasin. She steadied herself on the edge of the bed and looked at herself in the mirror.
Despite the nausea she appeared to be blooming with health. Her breasts, always full, had swelled so that her shirt was tight on her. Her pants were becoming uncomfortable. Until the last few days, she had told herself it was just the excellence of Letta’s kitchen, but when she had starting having trouble keeping her food down and her size continued to increase, she no longer had any doubt.
She was pregnant. Despite what the doctors had told her, despite the years of failed attempts, and despite the fact she and Jeryl had not repeated their performance in the bathhouse all those weeks ago, she could not deny it. In addition to her physical symptoms, the strange, unbidden surges of the rahnta had continued to surprise her at odd times. She had somehow managed to question Korin about this without revealing she was talking about herself, and Korin had said this was commonplace among women of great power when they were carrying a baby, especially in the early months.
She had not yet told anyone about her suspicion—her certainty, she reminded herself—because she was not yet sure how she felt about it herself. When she had been a teenager and visiting the breeding houses in the city, she had wanted nothing more than a baby, and was crushed when her menses continued to appear month after month.
Once she had
accepted she would never have a daughter, she had put all of her energy into her growing anger against the system she believed harmed women as much as it did men. The knowledge she would never have a daughter to whom she could pass the rahnta had made her all the more determined to use it in such a way that at the end of her life, she would be content she had done all she could and have no regrets that there was no one to take up her unfinished work.
Now, however, she was ambivalent. I would be happy about this if it were just a little later. Her plan was going so well right now. I suppose I am personally making sure phase two is a success. She told herself it was just a question of timing. She would be able to take the time to have a baby after phase three.
Phase three. She had thought it would be at least a year or two after her arrival before she was ready to move into the most dangerous phase of her plan. But everything had moved so swiftly! She now had to face the fact she would not have time to prepare for this delicate and risky phase that she had hoped for.
She counted back to that day in the bathhouse. It was about seven weeks ago, which meant she probably only had about five months or six months before her pregnancy made her too awkward to work. Phase three would involve a lot of extra trips to and from the village, and it would be better not to be too heavy with child if one was going to be bouncing around in a carriage. Also, many women did not recover quickly after the birth of a child. And even if Delinda recovered quickly, she could hardly be conducting the business phase three would require of her with a daughter nursing at her breast.
A thought struck her. What if it is a boy? She swallowed at this new thought. She had always said women should treat their male children no differently than the females. Was she really prepared to raise a male—a son, she reminded herself, using the less common word—the same as she would a daughter?
“I cannot delay phase three,” she said aloud to the mirror. Her dizziness abated and she forgot her nausea. “I must start immediately.” She left the room and headed down the stairs to enjoy some of Letta’s breakfast. All of a sudden, she was feeling very hungry.
* * * * *
I should be well pleased, Jeryl told himself. Then why am I not? He had returned from the now routine visit to the Sheeling last night, after having spoken to a crew that was, for the first time, full of optimistic news about their departure. The ship’s repairs were finally back on schedule. They had found a stand of timber exactly right for the repairs on the hull, and another that yielded a sap easily rendered into pitch for sealing the cracks between the timbers against the ocean’s constant assault. Men with little carpentry experience were becoming more adept at their tasks and the weather had been cooperative. Cristof had said they might be able to sail in as little as two weeks.
“Just think, Captain,” Wilfer had said, his face shining. “Soon we will be leaving this cursed place and going home. You will not have to go back to that estate place no more.”
Jeryl had smiled back at the young man, but had felt his stomach contract with guilt and even dread.
He had not told his men that his life in “captivity” had been far from unpleasant. They assumed he was being treated as a slave and he had done nothing to disabuse them of this notion.
Now, after thanking Letta for yet another wonderful meal, he headed toward the library for his usual planning session with Delinda. In the three days since that regrettable, wonderful incident on the sofa, they had been all business, but this afternoon there was something different about the way she looked at him. It was more…intense.
Delinda had managed to avoid Jeryl all day, practicing what she would say to him when he arrived for their normal work session. Now that he was here, she wondered how to begin. Even with their recent discussion of couples, she really had no idea how men of his land felt about fathering children. Here, of course, the sire of a child was of no consequence. A man was merely a tool to allow a woman to become pregnant. He had no role whatsoever in raising his own child. Oh, men often assisted in the care of a child, but never their own. How would Jeryl feel about a baby?
She decided more information was needed, so she approached the subject in a manner that would not make him uncomfortable.
“I wanted to ask you about how children are raised in your land,” she said.
Jeryl’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Children? I am the wrong person to ask.”
“Actually, you are the only person to ask, as I am unlikely to run into anyone else who comes from your home.”
“I see what you mean,” said Jeryl, grinning. “I will tell you what I can, but the matter of raising children is left primarily to women.”
“Are men not interested in having children?”
“They are interested. Every man wants to have a son—or a daughter—when the time comes for it.”
“And when is that?”
“Well, after marriage,” said Jeryl.
“I see. So men do not seek to breed until they are…” She searched for the word.
“Married,” supplied Jeryl.
“Married,” repeated Delinda. “And so children are not born before this happens.”
“No,” said Jeryl. “Or yes, sometimes, but it is to be avoided.”
“Breeding?”
“No, having children,” replied Jeryl.
Delinda was confused. “How can you do one without it resulting in the other?”
“Well, one has to be careful,” said Jeryl. “Some women know ways to prevent it, at least some of the time.”
“Women seek to prevent pregnancy?” Delinda was incredulous.
“Well, yes, if they are not married,” said Jeryl. “It would not do for an unmarried woman to have a baby.”
“Because it would not be respectable,” said Delinda. She really hated that word.
“Precisely.” Jeryl seemed to understand this line of reasoning was causing Delinda some annoyance, and he elaborated. “There are always women who are willing to couple with a man who is not her husband—the man she is married to—but these are not usually the same women who would be suitable for marriage. They may already be married to some other man, or be the sort of woman who earns her living in this manner. A man has needs, and if he is not married, the only way that he can fulfill his needs is to find one of these women.”
“And what of the needs of women who are not yet married?” asked Delinda, trying to understand.
“Er, well…it is generally considered that respectable women do not have needs as strong as those of a man,” said Jeryl, coloring. “And are better able to control them until they are married.”
At this point, Delinda was more worried about controlling her temper than her needs. The conversation was drifting away from its original subject, and she needed to remain calm and steer it back.
“So, if one of these unsuitable women,” she started, trying to keep the edge out of her voice and almost succeeding, “were to become pregnant as a result of a man’s needs, how would he feel about it?”
“He would probably be angry.”
“Why?” asked Delinda.
“Because he would probably think the woman had gotten herself with child deliberately, so as to force him to marry her, or at least to get money from him, depending on her circumstances.”
“I am unaware of any method by which a woman can get herself with child,” said Delinda, this time not even trying to keep the acid out of her voice. “If there was, there would be a lot more children being born in this sector.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Jeryl. “It’s just that if a woman is willing to give herself to a man to whom she is not married, then the man assumes she is taking steps to prevent herself from getting pregnant. It is her responsibility.”
Delinda considered the implications of this statement. It seemed obvious Jeryl would not be pleased to hear about a child, and might even think Delinda was trying to…what? To have one of these marriages with him?
“Tell me again about marriage,” she said. �
��Men desire it?”
“Yes and no,” said Jeryl. “Men expect they will be married eventually, but it is usually the woman who is eager for it to happen.”
“So they can breed?”
“Well, I suppose that may be one reason,” said Jeryl. “And they want children, of course. But I think they mostly want the security and support a man will give them. The man, on the other hand, does not want to be tied down too soon, until he has had a chance to live a little and see the world, and is then ready to take on the responsibility of a family.”
“Let me see if I have this right,” said Delinda. “A man desires to breed but does not think highly of a woman who will breed with him. Unless he marries that woman, which he is reluctant to do. He wants to have children, but not unless he is married. If an unmarried woman is with child, it is her own fault and the man will likely be angry because he believes she is trying to manipulate him in some fashion.”
Jeryl paused before answering. “It sounds harsh when you put it all together that way but, yes, that is essentially correct.”
Delinda was quiet for a moment. She had come to this room with every intention of telling Jeryl she was pregnant, believing he would wish to know and, possibly, even be happy. Now she was unsure how to proceed. Her major reason for informing him was to explain why she had to accelerate phase three of her plan, and to ask him for his help in accomplishing that plan. She was going to need that help, and making him angry right now would serve no purpose.
No purpose other than my personal satisfaction, she thought. She was seething. She stood and turned her back to Jeryl so he would not see her face. Delinda had almost convinced herself she had misunderstood his actions after the two times they had been physically intimate. She had reasoned he would not have held her so passionately and yet so tenderly if he really thought her not to be “respectable”. He had used that word yet again in his explanation. Respectable women do not have needs as strong as those of a man.
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