On Sunday, they attended services because she insisted. “I will not rot in Hell, and neither will you.” She greeted the vicar afterward and invited him and his wife and daughter to tea in the afternoon.
When afternoon arrived, she appeared in the parlor dressed in a lovely, demure gown of rose muslin, her hair dressed perfectly, her demeanor gracious and welcoming when the vicar arrived with his lady and daughter, who vaguely reminded him of Bella, the vicar’s daughter at Eastchase. He wondered if all vicars daughters tended to be plain and mousy. As soon as they’d left, Jane declared the man a dead bore, but a man of God, so very worthy, surely.
He laughed far too loudly and she told him to shush, that God would hear and doom him to Hell.
It quickly became evident to him that Jane had a healthy fear of Hell. He asked why and she explained, “When I was a little girl, my nurse said I was the devil’s spawn, that I would die and he would take me back to live with him in Hell. She also said I was the cause of my mother’s death, that the good woman could not live with the knowledge she’d borne a child of Satan.”
Michael was horrified.
He assured her they would always attend services, to ensure she didn’t go to Hell. Then he prayed fervently that she would not entertain the possibility of Heaven or Hell until she was one hundred years old and he’d been gone twenty, at least.
Slowly, he began to fret. He wondered if she was with child, and couldn’t believe it when he hoped she was not. He would lose his mind, surely, worried she wouldn’t make it through childbirth. There was also his promise to himself that he would take her to Eastchase Hall and leave her there until the last month of her confinement. He was nowhere near ready to leave her. He’d become quite attached to her, would miss her dreadfully when she was not at his side. How had he slept almost thirty years without her in his bed? He finally admitted to himself that he could not, would not, remove her to another room.
He considered their daily, multiple, sometimes desperate couplings and couldn’t imagine she wasn’t with child. They’d been after one another enough to put even the most prolific of rabbits to shame.
During the second week of their stay, six days before they were to return to London, he awoke before her, made his way to the dressing room and the screened commode, then returned to the bed to awaken her with a kiss. He mostly decided upon it to aggravate her, because she didn’t like morning kisses until after she’d rinsed her mouth, exclaiming they both had horrible breath and it was not in the least romantic.
He reached for the sheet and tossed it back, thinking to shock her awake, but it was he who had the shock.
There was blood everywhere.
Bright and red, screaming of pain and death.
His mind exploded with memories of Grace’s slender body, writhing in agony, her legs and the bed covered in blood.
A terrible howling keened through his soul. “Jane! Oh, dear God, Jane!” He scooped her up and cradled her against him, rocking her to and fro, close to hysteria. “Jane, love, please, please, wake up! Do not be dead. I won’t allow it, do you hear? Jane!”
“Michael, be calm. I am not dead, you see.” Her arms circled his neck and she nuzzled into his throat. “Have you no knowledge of a woman’s monthly courses? It would appear I’m not with child, despite our earnest attempts.”
He held her and stared at the sheets, completely floored. “How can you bleed so and not die? Great God, it’s inhuman. What pain you must feel.”
“Am I to assume you have no experience in these matters?”
“None at all. I was always told when it wasn’t convenient. Until you, I’ve not slept all the night through with any woman.” He couldn’t stop staring at the sheets. “It’s so much, I can’t believe you aren’t faint and ill.”
“Nonsense. It’s not so much as it appears. I’m terribly sorry you’ve had such a shock, and it bothers me that you’re so distressed, but assuredly, it is neither painful, nor life threatening. I’ve been doing this for years upon years, and expect I will do so for any number more.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “Are you upset I’m not with child?”
Crushing her to him, his voice shook. “No, Jane, not at all. It will happen in God’s own time, and truthfully, I will sorely miss making love to you once you do become pregnant.”
“Why will you miss it? Do you intend not to make love to me after I conceive?”
“Of course I will not. It will harm the babe.”
“Ah, Blix, you are clearly undereducated when it comes to women. I shall have to redirect your thinking, I see. In the meantime, I believe you should set me down, as I’m undoubtedly making a mess of you, go and get dressed and leave me to my privacy. I’ll not subject you to further knowledge of all this.”
He did set her down, on the edge of the bed, but his curiosity was high. “How do you go about, Jane? I’d not realized there was such a large amount of blood with a woman’s courses.”
She sighed and looked up at him. “I have cloths just for this purpose. They are folded and pinned inside a set of drawers I wear during my time. I change the cloths several times during the day, and wash them out to be used again, later during my time, or the following month.”
“What a great bother it must be.”
“Indeed. But it’s necessary, is it not? Otherwise, we wouldn’t have children.”
“I feel rather . . . incompetent.”
“Because there’s really nothing you can do to relieve me of this? Even dukes must bow to nature, you know.”
“Do you mean to say, you don’t mind?”
“Not so much. One grows accustomed to it, truthfully. Now do go away, Blixford. I find myself somewhat at odds about all this.”
“Why?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the sheets and murmured, “If you must know, this is something I’ve always dealt with on my own. It’s intensely private.”
“Understandable, but answer me one question before I go.”
“Very well.” Her face was still averted.
He was thinking about her upbringing in a houseful of males, with no mother to direct her in the ways of women. “How did you begin? How did you know how to go on?”
She didn’t answer for some time. He was about to say she didn’t have to, that he was sorry for prying, when she spoke very softly. “I was twelve years old and had not the slightest idea why I would be bleeding, except I was surely dying. I dressed and went to say goodbye to my family. When they realized I thought I would die, they were naturally confused and asked why, was I ill? It was horrible, truly, because of where I bled. I ran off and stayed in the woodsman’s hut that night and all of the next day, until Old Maudie came and found me there. She was said to be fey, and made her living by telling people their fortunes whilst she smoked a long pipe. She said she kenned I was in trouble and sought me out, then took me home with her and showed me what I was to do, and explained why I bled. I vowed I would never marry, never have children, because it was simply too ghastly to contemplate. Old Maudie said I was wrong, that I would marry and have seven children, as my mother had. I thought she said it only to make me feel better. When I went home, Sherbourne and my brothers never mentioned the incident again, or asked where I’d been. But I later found out through the housekeeper that they’d taken turns watching the hut. I suspect they knew, and Papa probably sent Old Maudie to see me, because I liked and trusted her.”
Michael decided to find Old Maudie, if she was still living, and press a great deal of money upon her. Perhaps he’d have her tell him his fortune while he was at it. Stepping close to his duchess, he petted her hair before bending to kiss the top of her head. “What a lonely little girl you were, in spite of all your brothers. You had no female friend to confide in.”
“I had Annabel. But she was always so proper, and not one with whom I could discuss anything so personal. She was forever determined to make me into a girl, and I didn’t want it. My brothers would never have allowed me to join
them if I was a girl in a dress.”
“Was it so important to join them?”
At last she looked at him. “It meant everything, Blix. I adored them, all of them. They were fun and jolly and able to do most anything, it seemed. Have you not figured out this is why I’m so mad about you? I’m always attracted to and inspired by those with tremendous ability and strength of character. For all that my brothers can be insensitive clods, occasionally very badly behaved, they’re each of them amazing men. Just like you.”
He blinked several times and rested his hands upon her head, stroking downward, tangling his fingers in her hair.
“If you say I’m too kind, or I’m blind, or some other such rubbish, I’ll plant you a facer. Women can be tetchy during their courses.”
Laughter bubbled up in his throat, though he was certain it was a knee-jerk reaction to counteract and bypass the lump that had formed there. “Very well, I won’t speak rubbish. I’ve no doubt you could indeed plant me a facer of significant wallop.”
“Oh, Blixford,” she said around a sob, “I’m so sorry!”
What was this? He drew her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “What are you sorry for?”
She mumbled into his shoulder, “I don’t mean to be mannish, truly I don’t, but it just pops out there, and I know how much you dislike it. I’m so sorry I’ve made a mess of things, and you will not want me, ever again, because now this is in your mind and you won’t be able to forget it, and oh! I’m not with child, which I know must disappoint you, no matter what you say. It is, after all, the only reason you married me, and I’ve failed you. Now you’ll leave me alone at Eastchase and I’ll die of missing you. Please don’t do that. I’ll try again, truly I will, and surely I’ll be successful this time, and we’ll never think of the sheets again. Tell me you won’t. Say you will still want me.”
He was hard pressed not to laugh, which was terribly unkind, he knew, but she was babbling as she cried, clearly overset in the extreme. He decided it was a product of her courses, surely. It was unlike his Jane to carry on like this. He held her and petted her hair and assured her he would want her until he was old and gray and unable to service her any longer. “And you are not mannish. You must forget I ever said that, promise me you will. As for your mess, would you think me base, crude and common if I told you I find it rather endearing? It’s who you are, the soul of your femininity. There’s a good girl, stop crying now and know that I won’t leave you at Eastchase, for I would not be able to sleep without you.”
She hugged him with great gusto, pressing the breath out of him. “Oh, God, I don’t deserve you, I do not.”
“Now you are speaking rubbish.”
“Are you going to plant me a facer, Blixford?”
“I’d not hurt a hair on your head, Jane.” He stood there and kept her close to him for a very long while, until she pulled away and reached for the corner of the sheet, which she used to dry her tears. “Oh dear, this is certainly an unusual turn of events.”
“How so? It happens every month.”
She blinked at him. “We’re still in our honeymoon, and this will put a great damper on things.”
“Only because we can’t make love to each other?”
“Of course. It is what people do on honeymoons.”
“Doubtful many do it so much as we have,” he said dryly. “It’s of no consequence to me. You’ll stop your courses in a few days, and we’ll go on until then just as we have, with one exception.” He turned and headed for their dressing room. “I’ll have to resist taking you whenever the mood strikes, but I’ll work hard not to mind.”
“As you know, hard work—”
“Is its own reward,” he finished for her. “Today may be a bit different, however. I’ve got some business in Dover, so I thought perhaps we’d go there together and have a late luncheon.”
“Really?”
She sounded like a little girl, anticipating a grand treat. He turned and grinned at her. “Yes, really. You may not feel up to riding, in which case we can take the carriage. Now, I’m going to throw on some clothes, go for a ride, and return to shave and dress properly before we have breakfast. Shall I send your maid up?”
She cast a look toward the sheets. “Not just yet. I’ll have to clean up first, then I’ll ring for her and request a bath.”
“Is it not the duty of a maid to clean up messes made by a duchess?”
Her eyes were wide when she looked at him. “I can’t allow it, Blix. I’d surely faint of shame and embarrassment.”
What an unusual woman he had married. “Will you launder the sheets yourself?”
“I’ll take them to the wash house and rinse them out before I give them over to be properly laundered. I daresay the topmost feather mattress is ruined. Deuced shame to waste, but I truly didn’t anticipate this. I thought surely I must have conceived. We’ve certainly tried hard enough, have we not?”
Something in that didn’t sit well with him. “Is conception all we’ve been about?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said it was my only objective. In truth, it has been tucked away in the back of my mind as a lovely possible outcome, but I confess not my main concern, as it is yours.” Her expression became defensive. “However, I don’t think I can apologize, because I’m not sorry. You knew I was a hoyden when you married me.” The expression instantly changed to anxiety. “You do understand that I want to conceive?” Now she looked very perplexed. “Perhaps it’s because I’ve not thought about it with enough concentration. Mayhap I should go forward with conception uppermost in my mind. Do you suppose one’s thoughts can make a difference?”
Fascinating. His wife was absolutely captivating. “First of all, I should also confess that conception has not been much on my mind, but rather, like you, somewhere in hiding, though definitely there. As to you being a hoyden, I don’t believe that would explain your enjoyment of conjugal relations. I certainly understand that you do, indeed, wish to conceive, but I don’t think focusing on it will make the slightest difference. Only think of all the children born on the wrong side of the blanket. They were undoubtedly not thought of with great intensity before conceived. I believe we should carry on as we have, and let nature take its course. If you’re meant to conceive, you will. If not, my line will die and my ancestors will have to forgive me. It can’t be said I’ve not attempted to do my duty.”
“Very sensible, Blixford. I agree, and will apprise you the moment my courses are done so that we may resume our efforts.”
He turned for the dressing room, was almost through the doorway when he heard her voice, low and soft.
“It pleases me much to discover that making love to me is not all about your heir.”
He looked over his shoulder at her, standing there beside the bed, her fine, lawn night rail splotched with blood, her long, dark hair mussed, a faint red line across her cheek, from where she’d slept upon a wrinkle in her pillow. Her lovely blue eyes were filled with an emotion he didn’t dare name.
He formed a number of reasonable responses, but spoke none of them. Instead, he impulsively said, “Hell and damn, Jane, I’m not only a blasted duke! I’m a human being, a man, a living soul who craves intimacy and acceptance as much as the rest of poor, pathetic humanity. Is it such a stretch to imagine I make love to you three, sometimes four times a day because I want you, at times because I need you? Do you think I took you about with me every day, everywhere, merely on the off chance I would find an opportunity to toss your skirts up and get a babe on you? Did it never occur to you that making love to my wife anywhere outside this room is not something I’d ever rationally contemplate? I did it because I could not help myself.”
His voice became louder, her eyes became wider, but he seemed unable to stop. He turned away from the dressing room to face her and shouted, “For God’s sake, if my only motivation was conception, would I take you atop a horse?”
“I don’t understand your anger. I merely thought to express m
y appreciation.”
“Well, stop it. I don’t make love to you out of duty, or because I expect you to appreciate it, or for any other reason than because I cannot keep my hands off of you.”
“And this makes you angry?”
“Yes!” He sucked in a deep breath. “No!” The howling in his head resumed and he clenched his hands into fists of frustration. He stared at her and decided he was well on his way to losing his mind. He was doomed. Just like his poor, mad papa. “I’m at a loss why a man like me would risk everything for a woman like you. I do not lose control, ever. It’s a sign of weakness and I hate it. Around you, however, it’s as though my mind is not my own, that I will have you, must have you, and my will be damned.”
“I’ve unintentionally wounded you, for which I’m deeply sorry. I hold you in high regard and great affection, and God help me, I am as impetuous as you are. We have the great fortune of being married to one we find attractive and irresistible. That we come together in unconventional ways and places surely can’t be wrong, or ill-advised, can it?”
“That is not the issue, and well you know it. Have you become a coward, Jane? Will you sidestep my meaning and hide behind a deliberate misconception?”
She paced to the end of the bed, then halted quickly and grasped the fabric of her gown, bunching it into a ball within her hands, as if she’d only just remembered the blood. Her eyes were flashing.
He let out a heavy breath. She was angry, thank God. He could deal with her anger, even her rage. He couldn’t deal with that other look.
“You hate losing control, and I’m evidently the cause of this perceived weakness, so am I to surmise that you hate me? Shall I dress in sackcloth and crop my hair like a boy, perhaps have a tooth pulled, or eat enough to grow fat? Maybe I should turn myself into a shrew?” With the gown still balled into her hands, she moved toward him. “Would it make you feel better if I never said yes, if I lay upon the bed like a board and cried?” She dropped the gown and poked a finger into his chest. “You are the coward. You’re so afraid you might actually grow to like the part of me that grows above my neck, you’ve resorted to claiming to hate the part of me that extends below my neck.”
The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series) Page 23