by Robyn Carr
“The master will take this room, Bevis, and I shall use the room with the white lace canopy,” she said with a sigh. Perhaps one day, she thought, I will find myself in that wonderful, large bed. “If you can get the trunks into the right rooms, I’ll go to the next flight up and see what there is for you and Harriet.”
She found four rooms on the third level that would house the servants, and by the time she returned to the second floor all the trunks were in place. Bevis declined the housing offered and made his preference for the carriage house felt, for it seemed the shiphand-turned-lackey disliked the comforts of a gentleman’s home. As for Harriet, she accepted the servants’ abode on the third floor, but Vieve reconsidered when judging her woman’s age and size and put her on the second floor, next to Monsieur Gastión.
There was much unpacking to do, finding fresh linens for the beds, shaking the dust out of quilts, airing the rooms and then, as quickly, laying a fresh fire in the hearths to warm the chilled rooms. And all this was done with minimal staff, for the scullery could not be found and the cook was struggling to increase the nightly fare from a size that would serve the Frenchman and herself to a meal that would serve six. Tyson would be of no help, for after he had passed only an hour or two with Doré, the two of them excused themselves. They made a quick, parting request for something to be saved for them to eat if they were late.
Vieve took pride in her ability to lay out the rooms and put away her husband’s clothing with loving hands. She arranged his soap, brush, shaving strop, polishing cloths, and other grooming tools with care on the floor of his wardrobe and even had Bevis place the brass tub before the hearth, so that Tyson might enjoy a steaming bath before a glowing fire. She was not disappointed when Tyson did not return by the dinner hour and, in fact, was greatly relieved, for she had put all her energy into settling his room. Now she and Harriet together could arrange her belongings. When she had finished and bathed to remove the clinging odor of traveling dust and perspiration, she donned her high-collared wrapper and asked Bevis to lay fresh firewood by the hearths in both Tyson’s room and Doré’s. She then prepared trays of stew, bread, and wine to place near their hearth fires to welcome them to well-settled bedchambers. She lit tall taper candles to brighten their abodes and surveyed her finished work with pleased exhaustion. She left Tyson’s door ajar so that he would have no trouble recognizing his chamber.
Finally, her own room welcomed her. No more did she grieve that he set her apart, for she had done a good day’s work toward gaining any small amount of his praise. She rubbed oil of roses on her swollen feet and chafed hands and brushed out her hair. Her legs were sore from hurrying up and down steps, and her eyes were scratchy with sleepiness. She lounged on the daybed before her own hearth and watched the flickering of the flames, though she was more than ready to find her bed. Finally, when the clock below had struck eleven chimes, she heard the door open and men’s voices below. She smiled to herself, for there was no possible way he could be displeased with her now.
It was only moments before the door to her room opened and he looked in. Feeling very pleased with herself, she smiled brightly. This was the moment she had waited for all day long. He was surely impressed with her talents and would value her more highly now.
“I see that you are all settled,” he said somewhat testily. “You are pleased with this room?”
“Yes, Tyson. Have you been to your room?”
A rueful movement shook his shoulders, and he wore an odd smirk. He entered her room and closed the door, moving to her dressing table, where he toyed with her articles of grooming. “I found my room.”
Her eager smile faded as she detected anger in his eyes. “I... I hope it is . . . adequate, Tyson. Is everything all right?”
“What do you think, madam?” he asked with a note of sarcasm.
“I was very careful,” she said in confusion, sitting up from her reclined position. “I even brought your dinner to your room when I realized the lateness of the hour.”
“The dinner is there, as are my clothes. Are you quite proud of your accomplishment?”
She looked around her room in confusion. She had no idea what she had done wrong. “You are displeased?” she asked, incredulous. Her mistake completely eluded her, and she was a bit too tired to think.
“You have taken a lesser room. Do you have an aversion to sharing one with me?” he asked bluntly.
“No,” she said evenly. “I thought the aversion was yours.”
“We did well enough at Chappington. How were you disadvantaged in that, madam? Were you accosted, in danger? Is it that you’ll take fewer chances now that the baron is not just down the hall to save you?”
“You were very clear, Tyson, that we would not be living as man and wife. I thought you made do with my room at Chappington only because you were not accorded one of your own. I thought you would be pleased.”
“You’ve made your point,” he said with irritation. “You were willing enough when the act would buy your marriage and when your father would support my conjugal rights, but now that we are alone in London, you place yourself down the hall and out of my reach.”
“But you said that you had no intention...”
“Did it ever occur to you to ask me if I had changed my mind?”
“It certainly did not. I do have some pride.”
He threw back his head and laughed loudly. “Pride, is it? You were not too proud before we were wed, nor were you shy on our wedding night... but now it is a matter of pride.”
“What is the matter with you?” she asked as she rose from her couch. “You hear the sounds of resistance and forge ahead unchecked. Then it is willing and proper I am and you reject me. Now it appears I have erred again, for you expected me to grovel to you and kindly ask if you have changed your mind. Humph,” she finished, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are impossible to please. One would be foolish to try.”
“It appears that I am the foolish one, my dear. Over and over again I meet yet more new requirements...raising the price again and again, and yet finding that my payment is never complete. Why don’t you just move your prissy butt into my room. Now.”
Her mouth tightened in rage. “While ‘tis difficult to refuse such loving seduction, Captain,” she sneered, “I shall do so when it snows in July.”
His face reddened. “Your little games make the chase all good fun, madam, but you will see that I am tired and short-tempered, and in no mood for argument.”
“And you think that I have been lying abed the day long, awaiting your pleasure? Go to hell.”
“Madam, I am warning you...”
Deeply stung and angry, her hand waved in a gesture of impatience. “Your warnings are all double-edged lies,” she ranted loudly. “You must think I’m an addlepated fool. Your whimsy bears much consequence with your changeable moods. You will it this way, then that, then this, then that.... You may change the hands on a clock so easily, Tyson, but my God, I am a person.”
He frowned darkly. “Past problems are regrettable, but...”
“Regrettable? Indeed,” she nearly shouted. Her anger built up until she thought her hair might catch on fire from the sheer heat of her rage.
“Lower your voice, madam,” he urged.
“Why? It pleased you once to hear me rant and shriek. Are you afraid that if everyone comes running tonight, you will look the fool?”
“Vieve...”
“You arrogant moron, it met your mood to take me before there were exchanged words of love or promises, and when wedding vows were made, and I would willingly yield to you, you accused me of tricking you into marriage. When I humbled myself to play the pleasing bride, you called me wanton and would not touch me. And now...” She laughed at him, shaking her head, though tears traveled down her cheeks. “Now I am to know you have changed your mind. Well, so have I.”
“Vieve, I…”
“Take your whimsical ways to your celibate chamber, you useless jackanape,” sh
e yelled. “A woman is more than the flesh that serves your base needs. You must do more than snap your fingers to have me satisfy your desires.”
“You surely test my temper, Vieve. It is not as if I have paid less than my due for what I desire. To the contrary, the gun is forever at my head, and the benefits of this marriage are yet to be seen.”
“Perhaps you should not have stolen the benefits first, Captain.”
“I have paid for that crime. You are my wife.”
“And if I walk down yon hall and yet again seek to please your whimsy, will you once more hold me at arm’s length and call me schemer, thief, whore, and tease? Ha. In anger you take me, then cast me aside and mock me, and then seek to take me again. Have you no consideration for a woman’s plight?”
“You are mine,” he stormed.
“I am your scullery and laundress and seamstress and slave. By what action am I your wife?”
“You have lain with no one but me.”
“And you scorned that fact and thrust me away for a route of escape from those very bonds.”
“You will be mine again, like it or not.”
“I will be no man’s without a word of love or a simple promise.”
“We shall see,” he said, striding toward her.
“Don’t you touch me,” she screamed.
But he advanced, an ugly scowl on his face. “No, Tyson, no,” she said in panic, backing away. He grasped her by the upper arms, and she thought surely she had pushed him too far. But the door to her bedroom slowly opened, and in its frame stood Doré, a serious frown on his face as he watched the scene before him.
“The angry words, my friends, will kindly be held with tight lips, for those of us who hear this terrible fight hold you both dear.” The intensity of Doré’s blue gaze burned into them both. “Do not make us witnesses to a more brutal event,” he said very softly.
Tyson let his breath out slowly and released his wife. He walked past Doré out of the room. In the hall stood Harriet, glowering at him from under her ruffled nightcap. He escaped quickly to the chamber that Vieve had prepared for him and slammed the door.
Without causing Vieve any further embarrassment, Doré softly pulled her door closed. In the hall he stood for a moment, considering what he had heard and seen. Harriet looked at him, her anger still vibrating. “The poor lass worked ‘til she near dropped, an’ he hasn’t a word t’say in the way of thanks. He cares naught fer her, but wants his booty. His lordship did her ill, givin’ her to him.”
Doré shook his head sadly. He had seen the improvements in his own chamber as a result of Vieve’s hard work, and knew that Tyson had made yet another terrible mistake in dealing with his wife. Doré had never before interfered between a wedded man and woman, but this once he knew it was essential.
Tyson was finishing breakfast the next morning when Doré entered the dining room. They eyed each other warily before Doré sighed and pulled out a chair to sit. Tyson leaned back from the table to await the lecture he knew was coming.
“You amaze me, Tyson. I have known you for so many years, and I have seen you behave in a gentle and generous manner to even the lowest lady of the evening. In matters of business you display brilliance which sets you instantly apart from all others. Yet, in the simplest venture of wooing your own wife, you become the rogue bull. Do you not see that if you play a sweet tune for her, she will dance for you?”
Tyson sat mute, looking coldly at his friend. He knew well enough how miserably he had failed with her.
“Have you nothing to say?” Doré asked impatiently.
“Nothing,” Tyson said evenly. “Are you finished?”
“It seems you will not listen to reason. You are determined to destroy the one good thing that has come to you.”
“You are finished now?” Tyson asked.
“I will say no more,” Doré replied with a heavy sigh.
“Good. Excuse me.”
He went to his wife’s room directly, leaving Doré alone to have his own breakfast. The household had worked so hard on the previous day that the breakfast hour was fairly late, and he assumed his wife’s absence from his table meant that she intended to hide herself in her room. He knocked on the door and entered upon her quiet permission.
Vieve sat at a small breakfast table with a cup of tea while Harriet stood within the room folding towels to place in a bedside commode. “Will you excuse us for a moment, missus?” he asked. Still, the woman stood tall and firm until Vieve gestured with a wave of her hand for her to comply. He stood just inside her bedroom door until the woman was gone and the door was shut.
“I apologize for my actions.”
She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.
“I was brutish.”
“You were,” she confirmed.
“I would not have taken you by force. I was angry, but I have wooed you before, and you know force is not my way.”
“Indeed, I know many of your ways...and few of them are within my understanding.”
He sighed heavily. “Much has transpired that you do not understand.”
“Oh? Are you quite certain of that?”
“Vieve, do you wish to see me beg forgiveness?” he asked tiredly.
“What I wish, Tyson, is the smallest bit of respect. You have had your troubles, and perhaps my father has been too forceful with you, but this is little of my doing and I have tried hard to please you. I cannot help that I never know what to expect.”
“You need not fear me, madam. I assure you.”
She looked down into her teacup. “That will take time, Tyson. What has passed between us these many weeks since the old keep does not fill me with trust.”
Tyson sighed heavily. “You are within your rights to deny me. I admit it is a thorny bed of my own design. You may accomplish your vengeance thusly, if it serves you.”
“Vengeance?” she questioned. “Oh, Tyson. How little you know of it. It is hard for me to believe you are so ignorant of women.”
“I am a man of business, madam, and coddling the whims of ladies has not been much a fancy of mine. If you find me less than skilled in these courtier’s games, it is because I have been more concerned with my work than chasing virgins.”
She almost smiled at him, but seeing that he was serious in his explanation, she held her tongue and simply nodded. “I see. I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“My apology is accepted?”
“I cannot see the wisdom of extending the hostilities.”
“Very good. You needn’t hide yourself away in your room in fear of my temper. I will see you at dinner.”
Vieve nodded, though the corners of her mouth twitched in the temptation to smile. When Tyson left the room there was no need to conceal her amusement.
He was a dichotomy that amazed her. She had seen him forge past her meager protests, or refuse her entirely. She had feared both his rape and his total indifference. She shook her head in wonder at his radical moods. If indeed he wished to have a wife, tender in giving and loving, to share his bed, why did he not simply embrace her with his arms and voice his desires gently?
For the week following their bitter fight, he was cordial at their common table. In the next week he spent time in her room, sharing an evening or mid-morning libation and discussing his home or his business in Virginia. A third week came and he drew closer, displaying little gestures of affection such as an arm casually draped over her shoulders, a light caress of her waist, or a soft hand on her back. In the fourth week she knew for certain that she was being courted, for he had added light, delicate kisses of greeting or good night. But he was cautious. And she was not about to make it any easier for him. There were some mistakes she was not willing to make twice. The next time she was edged toward intimacy with Tyson, she would be certain that the path she traveled was a safe and secure one.
Vieve was delighted by the earnestness with which he moved toward her. She had never had any courtship with this man. He had entered her life so boldly
and been pushed to marry her so quickly that there was much missing. She did not know him at all and had only faced either his lust or his anger. There was a great deal more to learn of him. And in these weeks of his amiable courtship, she savored each little part of him that she came to understand.
During the fifth week of his effort, she went with him to some business appointments, dinners, and afternoon soirees. She was impressed to meet the earl of Lemington, a distant cousin of Tyson’s. She was able to view the building that was being done on her father’s burned warehouses and listened attentively while Tyson spoke to the builders and workers. It was like falling in love with him all over again, for she was finally getting to know all of him.
We came through our knowledge of each other backward, she reasoned. The physical desire they had shared was mutual, spontaneous, and immediate, but they had known nothing of each other. No wonder there had been so many sparks flying.
She saw him perform stubbornly in business, or generously offer an underpaid worker a chance to earn more with additional labor. He was shrewd, but honest in his dealings. He was polite in the company of the English he had met, charming enough to soften the hardened hearts of old dowagers, yet he was no fop, and the men listened respectfully when he spoke. He lost his temper once when a careless carpenter left a loosened board that could cause injury to others, yet patiently explained an error to another worker. When she questioned this action, he explained that the first man had a reputation for being too lazy for the work, while the second was conscientious and rarely made a mistake.
“But how do you know, Tyson?” she had asked.
“It is an employer’s business to ask the right questions and get the correct answers. It is simply my obligation to know.”
His wisdom, kindness, and dedication warmed her, and she knew that in him was a man she could trust and love for the rest of her life. She could give him the same, but she allowed him to earn that from her, for the one thing he possessed in abundance was a fierce pride. She followed his lead devotedly...and patiently.