Frail

by Susanna Ives

  “What?” Emily cried. “No. I shan’t have it. I’ve already planned her dress and a wedding breakfast. I insist on doing the proper thing for my cousin. She can’t be married in weeds.”

  “The truth is, I want to get married quickly before the London papers learn about our engagement,” Theo said quietly.

  A heavy sickening feeling churned in Helena’s gut. She realized that their beautiful, sacred marriage would be the fodder of nasty cartoons and vile gossip in sensational newspapers. Those parasitical reporters would try to violate her and Theo’s pure love with their ugliness.

  “Pooh. How would the London papers discover what happens in Wales?” Emily asked. “London doesn’t care about Wales.”

  “I want to err on the side of caution,” he said. “I think it best if the marriage takes place as soon as can be, given Helena’s situation.”

  “But I wanted to make her a dress,” Emily said, her voice crestfallen. “Can you not wait a week? Surely no harm can come in a few days.”

  Helena didn’t want to wait, but run away with him tomorrow. No wedding breakfast or dress. She desired to have their names signed on the church registry before the London papers descended on her. However, she didn’t want her marriage to cause discord among the family she was trying to unite. The marriage should begin in harmony.

  Emily took her hesitation as agreement and continued her war on Theo. “Your bride wants a proper wedding. Surely you can’t deny her.”

  Megan sided with her mother. “It’s but a week.”

  “Let us wait,” Helena said, but inside she felt an unsettling niggle that she was making the wrong decision.

  The carriage halted by Emily’s gate. The ladies’ gazes rested on Theo’s shadowy frame.

  “I suppose I should get used to doing my kind wife’s bidding.” His chuckle was strained. “I shall tell Efa to prepare a wedding breakfast for Monday week. Maybe she won’t inflict mortal injury upon me.”

  “No, I shall oversee preparing the wedding breakfast,” Emily said. “I merely require her help.”

  ∞∞∞

  Theo didn’t have the fortitude to continue to argue with Emily. He stepped from the carriage and then assisted the ladies. He escorted Emily to the door, which Sara had opened. Passing into the light of the hall, Emily released Theo’s arm. A wicked smile curled her lips. “Come, Megan, let the lovers alone for a few minutes.”

  Theo drew Helena outside and under the giant oak in the front garden. He wanted to make love to her again, let her touch drown his fears, but his servant waited by the carriage.

  “Damn the wedding dress,” he muttered.

  “The papers—surely they can’t descend on us in a week if we are quiet.” Anxiety raised her pitch.

  “I need to send a letter to my family. They won’t utter a word about me or us,” he assured her. “I promise.”

  “Your family, Theo. What will they think when—”

  “Hush, my love. They shall be thankful any woman, let alone a beautiful, kind-hearted one, desired to marry me.”

  He silenced her with his kiss, arresting any more conversation about his family and newspapers that served to further fuel his guilt. He slid her around the tree, away from the view of the servant, and increased the pressure of his lips until she let him inside her mouth. The mounds of her breasts, the taste of her tongue, and her fine hair woven between his fingers, all blocked out his apprehensive thoughts. His sex swelled with want.

  “Here is the real reason I desire to marry you now,” he whispered, hoarse and low. He placed her hand over his penis, straining against his trousers. “I want you tucked away in my bed chamber without delay.”

  She made a high, purring sound, sliding her hand up and down him, now knowing how to please. When he threw back his head, she trailed kisses along his jaw.

  Light filled the parlor window. Theo gently pushed her back.

  “I must go,” he whispered.

  “I don’t want to go into that empty bedchamber.” Her voice was plaintive. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

  “In a week’s time, you won’t be able to get rid of me. I swore I would make you happy for the remainder of your life. You may hold me to that vow.”

  “I am happy.” She squeezed his hand. “I am so very happy now. And I want to spend the rest of my days thanking you for saving my life.”

  Theo couldn’t respond, except to nod. He hadn’t saved her life, but nearly destroyed it. His deceit sullied the tender moment. He couldn’t look at her hopeful face, but closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. “Good night.”

  ∞∞∞

  At Theo’s home, the party raged into the early hours. He sat in the dining room, sipping port. Gordon continued to play in the parlor, the music becoming noise in Theo’s ears, putting his nerves on edge. Around him, drowsy old men balanced their chairs on two legs and retold tales from their youths. Sometimes a certain inflection or strike of a consonant would cause Theo’s head to jerk up, expecting to find Major Thompson or Private O’Toole before him.

  At three in the morning, Theo assigned a servant to hold a lantern and guide his last drunken guests home. In the parlor, poor Efa and her serving girls, who hadn’t slept much the night before, were yawning, their eyelids sagging as they collected glasses and pushed brooms.

  “Just go to bed,” Theo told them. “All of you. We will worry with cleaning when the sun is well and truly up.”

  “Aye, it’s nothing,” Efa told him.

  “I appreciate your stoicism,” he replied. “But if you don’t go to bed immediately, I’ll have to let you go.” He started for the door and then turned. “Except for Gordon. When you see him, can you tell him to meet me in my library, please.”

  He jogged up the stairs, down the corridor, and into his library. He grabbed his tobacco pouch from the shelf, rolled and lit a cigarette and then dropped the flaming match into the grate to start the fire. He smoked and watched the flames catch the coals.

  The brass clock on the wall pointed to half-past three.

  Not hours ago, he had taken her maidenhood and spilled his seed in her womb, but now it felt as if that miracle hadn’t happened. She drove his emotions to wild extremes. With her, he felt almost euphoric. Without her, he could be as despondent as those weeks returning from Crimea. He blew out a long plume of smoke, crossed to his desk, unlocked it and began pulling out the letters and documents from his investigation of Helena’s father. By handfuls, he dropped them into the grate and watched the flames leap up and consume the words.

  There was a tap at his door, and Gordon slipped inside. He was coatless and collarless, his wet shirt loose and flapping over his trousers.

  “Thank you for playing tonight.” Theo pulled out a drawer from his desk and fished out some notes. “This is for your work,” he said and slapped the money down on the desktop.

  Gordon picked up the money and fingered it. “This is fifty pounds.”

  “You could use it.”

  Gordon gave Theo a level gaze. “What game are you playing?”

  “Helena and I are to be married.” Theo raked his hands through his hair. “We must get married.”

  He watched the realization spread over Gordon’s features.

  “Bloody hell,” the man muttered. “So you want me to leave? Is that what this money is for? To keep me silent?”

  “I want you to remain,” Theo said quietly. “But I knew you would feel differently. That’s enough to get you and Efa started somewhere else. I can give you more if you need it.”

  Gordon scratched the scar running down his cheek and neck. “You’re a goddamned bastard for what you’re doing to her.” He stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Piss off, Gordon,” Theo hissed to himself.

  A few seconds later, the man returned and tossed the money on the desk in front of Theo. “Just tell me why?”

  “Because I love her.” Theo bolted from the chair. “Don’t stand there with that self-ri
ghteous, smug face of yours and judge me. You spent an entire year wandering from tavern to tavern, wasting what little money you earned at the docks for gin. If it weren’t for Efa, you would be just another dead Irishman who drowned in his own vomit. Tell me what you wouldn’t do to keep Efa? Tell me you wouldn’t lie to protect her?”

  The room was quiet but for the hiss of the fire and the harsh breathing of the two angry men glaring at each other.

  “You always had my silence,” Gordon said. “It’s those damned English you must be concerned about.”

  ∞∞∞

  Theo kept his rifle aimed ahead, the butt couched on his shoulder. He fired into swirls of smoke and shadows as he edged over the scorched field. Soldiers fled around him or dropped dead at his feet, but he kept advancing. He had to get to Helena, waiting just beyond the Russian guns, in the stately ruins of Sevastopol. Sharp, searing metal exploded beneath his skin. Although he felt no pain, he knew he had been hit. He fell to the ground, sinking into the mud. Roots like ropes wound about his arms and legs, pulling him down. He screamed but didn’t hear a sound as he sank deeper into the earth. And then, in the black, moist silence, she appeared, her scent and energy wrapping around him, calming his terror.

  When he awoke with the sun illuminating his chamber, he knew what he should do.

  Seventeen

  Dear Jonathan,

  Please be happy for me and understand that I will not be able to join you in London.

  Helena rewrote the next sentence several times. She didn’t know how to say that she was going to be married and to whom. Jonathan deserved the truth, but she realized that perhaps she couldn’t trust her old friend once scorned. He was waiting for her, money exchanged and a flat furnished, eagerly anticipating the intimacy she had shared with another man—a man who said he loved and would marry her, not hide her away in shame.

  Yet as her pen hovered above the paper in the morning light, last night’s proposal seemed as ethereal as a dream. So little time had elapsed since she left London. Since she consented to be Jonathan’s mistress. How quickly she had fallen in love with another and given her body.

  An irrational fear burned in her belly that Theo would change his mind.

  What if giving herself to him had caused him to think ill of her? What if he woke up and remembered he had proposed to society’s villainess? What if she arrived at church today, only to receive more harsh treatment?

  So many uncertainties and fears that she couldn’t quell. The bloody image of her father’s missing face loomed in her mind, a reminder of how the people she loved, the life she had, could be yanked away.

  Again, she tried to write to Jonathan that she was to be married, but couldn’t. She was filled with an irrational fear that if she committed the words to paper, some black magic would take Theo away.

  She folded the stationary and hid it in her trunk under her parents’ pictures. She would attempt to write again after church.

  She entered the dining room to find Emily trying to wrest a breadbasket from Betry. Betry’s belly was so swollen it looked as if the infant would burst through her skin.

  “Go back to bed,” Emily ordered Betry. “Where is Sara?”

  “Please, ma’am,” Betry wailed. “I told her to help Miss Megan. Please let me set breakfast. I’m useful. I am.”

  “We don’t want that child coming any sooner than God has intended,” Emily scolded.

  “Please, allow me.” Helena lifted the basket from the two ladies and set it on the table.

  “Come, I’ll help,” she told Betry and followed her back to the kitchen.

  Helena couldn’t keep her eyes from the woman’s belly. A warm joy blossomed in her. A tiny infant—Theo’s child—might be forming inside her at this very moment.

  “Betry will be laying in very soon,” Emily commented, when Helena returned to the dining room with a triangle of cheese and pot of jam. “A wedding and a baby in quick succession.” Her cousin chuckled. “Luckily not for the same lady.” She tapped the opened journal that rested beside her plate. On the page was an illustration of a bride with a lace veil falling around a modest gown composed of a v-like bodice and a skirt of three layered flounces.

  “I think this gown can be sewn quickly and made elegant with a little embroidery,” Emily said.

  “You don’t need to sew a new gown. Truly. Let us try to liven up another gown to save you the trouble.”

  “You are not getting married in dreary mourning weeds! Chase that silly thought from your head. Our lives have enough sorrow; let us celebrate the joys properly.”

  Helena kissed Emily’s cheek. “We shall sew it together.”

  Outside, she could hear the rattle of an approaching carriage.

  She spun to see Theo coming through the gate. He wore the same somber gray and black as yesterday and carried a handful of tulips. His face was ashen. His mouth formed a tight line and the skin under his lower lids was tinged blue. Not the visage of a man calling on his beloved. Her heart quickened with fear that he regretted his decision.

  Betry waddled in, but Helena intercepted her and answered the door.

  When Theo saw her, tenderness warmed in his eyes and relaxed his face. He glanced about, and seeing they were alone, drew her up, and kissed her.

  The fears that weighted on her mind now felt as light as baby bird feathers. She held him tightly, savoring the joy of touching him. After several long seconds, he released her and attempted to escort her to the dining room. But when she whispered, “I love you,” he groaned and kissed her again.

  “Very well, you two,” Emily called.

  “Cruel woman,” Theo muttered and then called back. “Can you blame me for wanting to be alone with my bride? She is lovely.” Shaking his head, he escorted Helena into the dining room.

  Emily quickly shut her journal before Theo could catch a glimpse. “You mustn’t see that. Helena will take your breath away on your wedding morning.”

  “Helena doesn’t need a dress to take my breath away. Had she not one at all, I assure you my lungs would deflate quite nicely.”

  “Naughty man,” Emily said.

  “H-how is your home this morning?” Still reeling from his kisses, Helena’s voice was a rush of breath.

  “I told Efa it would be easier to raze it and start over. But she insists she can put it to rights.”

  “Then you shall dine with us after church,” Emily said.

  “No, no, I’ve told Efa we are dining informally at my home. A picnic. I have a surprise for my bride.” He lifted Helena’s hand and kissed it.

  Before he could explain more, Megan entered with Sara in her wake. Neat shiny spirals framed her face. Her checkered blue gown formed a neat bell over a crinoline.

  “Oh, Megan, Megan, Megan, are you truly in such a rush to grow up?” Emily mourned. “I’m going to miss my little girl.”

  “I’m not going to leave you, Mama. It’s that….” Megan’s cheeks blazed. “Warren wants to meet me at church.”

  “You are too young for anything more than an acquaintance with a boy,” Theo boomed.

  Emily laughed. “Oh heavens, Helena! Let us hope you only have sons. Your husband knows nothing of young ladies’ tenacious little hearts.”

  ∞∞∞

  Helena held Theo’s hand and gazed out the carriage window as they bumped down the rutted hill lane. The sky was a brilliant cornflower blue over the village, but clouds were beginning to move in from the mountains.

  The villagers were clustered in small groups in the churchyard. Children chased each other around the tombstones and trees. The crowd was considerably thinner than the previous Sunday. Helena suspected many stayed home nursing sore feet or heads.

  She latched onto Theo’s arm as she stepped down from the carriage. The conversations trailed off as people turned their heads to watch. Theo placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and covered it with his, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

  Slowly the village ladies trickled forwa
rd, bringing Helena into their fold.

  ∞∞∞

  Helena felt sorry for Branwen. The poor hound received a harsh scolding from Megan for putting her dirty paws on Megan’s gown when the girl alighted the carriage at Theo’s home. The confused dog whimpered, her fluffy tail wedged between her legs.

  “Come here, you,” Helena said. “We still love you.” Branwen rolled over, letting both Helena and Megan console her with a vigorous belly rub.

  “So what is your surprise?” Emily straightened her skirts from the carriage ride. “Or is it a lover’s secret?”

  “It is no lover’s secret, but in order to see the surprise you must do as I say and bundle yourself up in this blanket.” He pulled the brown wool blanket from the carriage and draped it about her shoulders like a shawl. “And then you will sit by the fountain and wait patiently. Are you capable of patience, Emily?” he teased and winked at Helena.

  Emily shooed him with her hand. “Go away, you horrid man, and bring us this surprise immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Theo bowed like a footman and jogged toward the outbuildings.

  Helena swept back the loose hair blowing in her eyes and studied the boxwood garden around the fountain. Tiny leaves and buds shot from the stems of the asters she and Theo had planted together. She bent and gingerly touched one of the buds. She smiled to herself. Those tiny plants were determined to grow.

  Theo returned gripping a woven basket in one hand and holding the reigns of a petite brown mare in the other. The horse was rigged with a sidesaddle. “For you,” he said to Emily.

  “I can walk,” Emily protested.

  “Not if you want to see the surprise,” Theo retorted and lifted her as if she were a doll onto the saddle.

  Helena and Megan each took a basket handle and followed behind Theo and Emily as he guided the horse past the tulip labyrinth and into the woods. He turned off the trail and ascended a slope through the woods. Helena had to dig her heel into the dirt to keep from slipping backwards. At times, she grabbed onto Megan, who clamored effortlessly up the hillside. At last, the land plateaued into a small clearing. Briars and branches covered the perimeter, rocks protruded from the earth. Some of the land had been cleared—like a sore on the earth, the naked soil exposed. Rocks had been stacked to the side, forming a pyramid.