Lie With Me

by Patricia Spencer

  She glanced at the boy, at Edward, then around the room at the rapt faces of the townspeople. And then she realized that everything that had occurred at Edgemere these past months had transformed D’Avenant. He’d faced his demons and given up alcohol. He’d nearly drowned and lost his physical vitality. And he’d fallen in love. One by one, the forces that helped him to maintain his disguise had been stripped away and replaced with a gentler spirit. He’d released the energies of conflict, dominance, and physical prowess that had fuelled the impersonation, and no one at Edgemere had noticed that as Julianne emerged, D’Avenant had faded.

  It had taken a child, too young yet to have been trained to believe the deception his parents and fellow-villagers had embraced, to see what stood before him.

  A woman in men’s clothing.

  Just like that, everything D’Avenant had worked for was being dismantled, because once the adults saw what the child had seen, they could never un-see it. No matter how careful D’Avenant might be henceforth, every gesture, every physical attribute would be under intense scrutiny. He would become the butt of jokes. His authority would be undermined. And it would get worse as he aged and he lost more vigour.

  Maryam looked back at D’Avenant. His life was falling apart in front of him, in front of the entire village. She caught her breath and stepped forward, reminding herself that as a Countess, she carried a certain weight of authority.

  “You are such an observant little boy,” she said, bending at the knee to come down to his face level. “What is your name?”

  The boy worriedly ducked his head, a tiny bow. “Christian.”

  Maryam knew he thought he was in trouble, but she had no desire to frighten him. On the contrary. She brushed his curly forelocks out of his eyes. “I am pleased to meet you, Christian. I am the Countess Wyndham. And I want to say, you are so right. Lord D’Avenant doesn’t look as strong as he used to. And do you know why? He had a terrible misadventure.”

  The villagers watched her intently.

  “Back in October—do you remember when it was so rainy and cold? The Edgemere River was roaring, very big and powerful…” She told the story to Christian as if it were a bedtime story. “Well, my little boy, Edward—” she drew her son over by the waist “—fell into the deep part of the river, right at the spot where the two branches join up and make a big eddy.”

  The villagers gasped, looking at each other, as caught up in the story as the boy was. They knew the river killed D’Avenants.

  Maryam raised her voice subtly so it would carry clearly across the hall. “Can you imagine, Christian, how terrified I was? My beloved little Edward, in those black waters? I don’t know how to swim, so I couldn’t rescue him. But Lord D’Avenant was with me, and he pulled off his coat and shirt and boots and dove in to go deep, deep into the roiling water to get my son back out.”

  “He did?” Christian said, wide-eyed.

  A murmur rose in the hall among the adults.

  “Yes. He had to fight the water. It was freezing. There were big tree trunks coming down the river, bruising him, and still he pulled Edward out onto the shore. Your parents know that that was a very brave thing for Lord D’Avenant to do, because many people in his family have drowned in exactly that spot.”

  Maryam waited for the exclamations to subside before continuing. “The Marquis nearly drowned, Christian. He got water in his lungs and then got a terrible fever. That’s why he doesn’t look like such a strong man anymore. And he might never again because he nearly died. Even a knight in shining armour can get badly hurt. You know, how they might walk with a limp or have scars for the rest of their lives?”

  Christian nodded.

  Maryam straightened from her crouch, but still bent over him. “But I don’t care. He’s my hero. I knew he was the man I wanted to marry. He asked me to, you see, and I said Yes.”

  The villagers exclaimed and turned to each other with comments.

  Maryam turned to D’Avenant and took his hand. “You don’t mind, do you dearest, that I’ve gone ahead and announced it before we got the chance to ask the vicar to post our banns?”

  An older girl in the crowd, whom Maryam had seen earlier making calf eyes at a string-bean of a pimply youth, called out: “Milady. Will you be a June bride?”

  Maryam, apparently absently, gave her lower belly a brief caress. “Oh, no! Lord D’Avenant and I have no time to waste. We’re eager to have a family, and I’m not getting younger.”

  The villagers laughed. A gossipy matron leaned to the woman beside her, staring at Maryam’s belly, and whispered.

  Maryam imagined the comment: I told you nothing good would come of having a woman living under the same roof as an unrelated man.

  “Will you marry by special license?” the girl asked, her eyes sparkling with the romance of it all.

  “Yes,” D’Avenant said, finally finding his voice.

  Maryam took his elbow. “That’s the Marquis’ preference. Of course, being a man, he doesn’t like the fuss. But I have hopes of persuading him to sponsor a reception here in the church house afterwards, so you can all help us celebrate our union.”

  The gathering broke into clusters of conversation, the room abuzz with the latest news.

  Maryam turned toward Mrs. Farwell. “As you know, Edgemere has no servants to speak of, so perhaps you could recommend some women in the village who could prepare a lunch for everyone—as a commission, of course. Not too early in the day, though. Lately, I seem not to be able to get going straightaway in the mornings.”

  “Well done, Milady,” Sophie said later at Edgemere as she and the other women entered the foyer just behind Lady Maryam, D’Avenant, and Maman. “Brilliant,” Brigid said, on her way upstairs to get the children out of their Sunday clothes. Romelle shook her head and chuckled. The twins curtsied, smiling, and followed Sophie to the kitchen.

  Maman stood before Maryam and the stiff-jawed D’Avenant. She looked from Maryam to him and lifted her eyebrows. “You didn’t say a word, chère, all the way home.”

  D’Avenant—Julianne—pressed her lips together.

  Sarena came into the foyer to help Maman up the stairs.

  Maryam, alone now with Julianne, gestured toward the library. “Alright,” she said. “You clearly have something to say.”

  “No.” Julianne’s anger was barely suppressed. “I’m going to my room to get out of this ridiculous getup.” She turned on her heel and took the steps.

  Maryam placed her palms together and brought her hands to her mouth, watching Julianne. The stress from the church house was about to emerge.

  Upstairs, in her room, Julianne yanked at her clothes, hardly able to stand having them on. What a nightmare. What an unthinkable nightmare. Out of the mouths of babes. A tiny boy had pulled at one thread and her whole life had begun unravelling. Everything she’d survived, everything she and the Edgemere women had built and struggled for was nearly brought down around her ears. She’d stood there—stood there and said nothing. As if it was pre-ordained that she would one day end up in the gutter again and that she had no right to cry out in self-defence. Her throat had constricted. She felt paralyzed. All she could hear was a loud buzzing in her ears and an intense rush of heat spreading through her body. The edges of her vision had started going black. Only by a supreme act of will had she managed not to faint. How like a woman that would have been!

  She pulled off her coat, her shirt, the vest, the damned pants, wanting it off, all off. It was a farce, a lie. A four year old had seen through it and given it a name. She looks like a girl. Well, she was a girl—a woman. And she was tired of having to pretend to be a man just so she could direct her own life and use her brains and love another woman.

  She pulled everything off, every damned male garment down to the socks and flung it all across the room, growling and furious. Damn it. Just damn it all to hell and back. She was tired of the deceit, yet desperately, desperately afraid of being unmasked.


  She stood, nude, seething. All she wanted was what every man took for granted. A shiver ran through her. She felt cold to the core, beyond what any chill in the room could account for. She went to her dresser and pulled out a silky shift and her wrap and slipped them on. Women’s clothes, by God. Her eyes were streaming. She pulled out a cloth square and took it with her to the fireplace.

  She dropped into the chair and pressed the cloth to her face. God. It nearly happened. Very nearly. Except for Maryam, she would be the object of ridicule right now, and that ridicule would spread outward from Edgemere across England.

  Maryam went to her rooms and changed into a simple house dress. She didn’t hurry. Julianne needed some time to herself. Half an hour later she came out of her chambers, crossed the hall and knocked at Julianne’s door.

  “Go away, Maryam.”

  Maryam opened the door and stepped in. Julianne was seated at the edge of her chair by the fireplace, her forearms on her knees, her face in a cloth.

  “I said ‘Go away,’ not ‘Come in.’”

  “I heard you,” Maryam said, coming further into the room. “In our wedding vows, I’m not promising to obey you. We should be clear about that from the outset.”

  Julianne shook her head dismissively.

  Maryam came forward next to her and rested her hand on the nape of Julianne’s neck. “Why are you angry, Julianne?”

  “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with me. I’m ashamed of me.”

  “Whatever for?”

  Julianne looked up at Maryam. “Because I stood there and did nothing while you took my head off the chopping block and put yours down in its stead.”

  Maryam came around in front of her and crouched to her level. She caught Julianne’s face between her hands and looked directly into her lapis lazuli eyes. “You were drowning, my love. I could not watch you go under any more than you could watch Edward go under. That makes us a family. We care for each other, no matter the risks.”

  “I’ll figure out a way to get you out of this.”

  “You’re not listening, dearest. I do not wish to get out of this. Everything I want is right here. You. My bandits. The women here.”

  “What about the risk to the children?”

  “Pray God they never suffer for my decision,” Maryam said. “Meanwhile, their lives are sweeter for your being in them.”

  “Your good name could be ruined, Maryam, were we ever found out.”

  Maryam snorted. “A fat lot of good it did, having one. All it got me was a choice of which man’s thumb to be under.”

  The corner of Julianne’s mouth twitched. “I have been a poor influence upon you.”

  Maryam leaned forward. “You’d best not have changed your mind about marrying me because as things stand publicly I’m an unwed woman who is with child by the Lord of the Manor.”

  “An heir!” Julianne chuckled.

  “Alas, to our great sorrow as a couple, though my belly will grow, I will not be able to carry the child to term. Too old. A lamentable decision on your part not to have married a younger woman.” Maryam became serious. “However. I offer you my three. I need someone I can trust to care for them if anything happens to me. Would you do that?”

  “Yes. Upon my honour I will love your children as if they were my own.”

  “Now.” Maryam slid her fingers down Julianne’s neck to her throat her collarbone the rise of her breasts. She untied the wrap and spread it open.

  “Yes, my love?” Julianne whispered, her breath catching as Maryam drew the backs of her fingers lightly across her nipples.

  “I have had a great many thoughts of touching you but very little practice.”