by Sahara Kelly
Adalyn grinned over her teacup. “I’m stronger than I look. And I’ve seen several very industrious young ladies helping keep the Manor in order.” She looked at Mrs. Barnsley. “Would any of them be yours?”
“Aye,” she nodded. “I got two of ‘em up at Manor.”
Daniel looked up at that. “Lizzie’s old enough now?”
“Time’s a passin’, lad. Lizzie turned sixteen this month. Past time to earn her keep.”
“I had no idea,” he shook his head.
“Mr. B. an’ I been blessed with five children, m’Lady. Lizzie’s our youngest. She and Mary do up at Manor, Jane lives south of here, trainin’ ter be a Lady’s maid, and the lads are in the fields. Mr. B., bein’ as he’s gettin’ on in years, puts in his time in more of a supervisory capacity, he says.” She shrugged. “Fancy way of sayin’ tellin’ lads what ter do.”
“I’m sure he’s very good at it, too.” Adalyn finished her tea. “’Tis good to have a knowledgeable eye overseeing matters.”
“Yer right about that, m’Lady.” Mrs. Barnsley turned to Daniel. “And while I’m thinkin’ about it, he’d like a quick word with yer, Daniel. Somethin’ about plantin’.”
Daniel nodded. “Is he around today?”
“Should be.”
“I’ll find him then.” Daniel turned to Adalyn. “I won’t be very long. Will you mind?”
“Of course not,” Adalyn laughed. “And I promise to leave you a little of the pie.”
Daniel laughed back and shook a finger at her. “You’d better. I’m counting on it.”
Left to their own devices, the two women looked at each other, then grinned and began to carve the pie.
It was difficult to hold back a moan of pleasure, thought Adalyn, as her taste buds exploded with the sensation of tart gooseberry, a dash of spices and meltingly wonderful buttery pastry. “Oh my goodness,” she mumbled. “Heaven. Just heaven.”
“I knew yer’d like it.” Mrs. Barnsley smiled. “Now then, lass. Just us. Yer got questions, I’ll be bound.”
Adalyn blinked. “How did you know?”
“They all do, dearie. I’ve been here nigh on thirty years now. Seen my fair share of Wolfbridge ladies. So yer go right on and ask whatever yer want. Between us women.”
A mouthful of pie and a second cup of tea…and Adalyn decided to take Mrs. Barnsley up on her offer.
“All right. Why don’t any of the women live at the Manor? Why is it just men?”
The older woman nodded. “Yes. That’s usually the first thing they want ter know. Well, it goes back a long time ter one of the earliest of the Wolfbridge women. Mebbe even the first one. All by herself in the manor, and in days when men had all the power, and women none of it. The poor lass was besieged by men wantin’ her for the land, pretendin’ affection, tryin’ to woo her into surrender. Driven nearly to distraction, she was. The one man she would have accepted—well he was after seducin’ one of the maids, behind the lady’s back. A babe on the way sort of thing. Broke her heart, ’tis said. All his promises were empty. And after that? No more women livin’ on the premises, and she turned her back on all those suitors. Made it a legal rule of the place, she did.”
“Goodness. I can understand her feelings, I suppose.”
“She stayed unwed for a good many years. One o’ the longest-lastin’ at Wolfbridge. I think she may have been the one ter start hirin’ a unique set of men.”
“After that kind of heartbreak, I’m surprised she thought of it. I might have kept my staff to all women. At least there’d be no chance of anyone betraying my affections.”
Mrs. Barnsley leaned forward. “Between yer and me, lass, I also think it’s got somethin’ ter do with the lads. They like havin’ their mistress ter themselves. And there hasn’t been a mistress complainin’ or tryin’ ter change them rules once they got set up. Ever.” She turned her pie plate around, absently, as if in thought. “The Wolfbridge lads are special, y’know.” Her face was earnest now as she gazed at Adalyn. “They’re all about takin’ real good care of their Lady. There’s nothin’ they won’t do fer her; she’s their life, in a way.”
“I’m starting to see that,” agreed Adalyn. “It’s…a little unsettling at times.”
Mrs. Barnsley smiled. “I’ll agree ter that. Them lovely men just fallin’ over themselves ter help yer…must be hard ter know which way ter turn.”
“Do any…er…have any of the Wolfbridge women ever…I don’t know quite how to ask…”
“You mean any of the ladies have a go at it with the men?”
“Um, yes,” Adalyn blushed. “I think that’s what I mean?”
“I should bloody well hope so,” said Mrs. Barnsley bluntly. “What’s the point of all that carin’ when it don’t go noplace? Wolfbridge ain’t a convent. And if I weren’t wed and past all that, I’d not mind being up there and havin’ a bit of it myself.”
Swallowing, Adalyn managed a weak smile. “But how does one choose?”
Mrs. Barnsley grinned, a curve of her lips that managed to be both wicked and wistful. “I wouldn’t. I’d try ‘em all.”
Adalyn gasped, but at that moment Daniel came back into the kitchen, and her words dried up in her mouth.
“All set,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Now. About that pie?”
Dear Diary,
I should be preparing myself for dinner, but I could not restrain the urge to write down some of my thoughts today, since it has been quite exciting.
The tour of Wolfbridge has convinced me that I am altogether the luckiest woman in England. The land is in good heart, from what my inexperienced eyes can tell, and I wish for the spring to hurry up and arrive so that I can see what it will be like when life returns to the fields and gardens.
In the meantime, I am resolved to find some books in the library to help me understand more about agricultural matters. I would not wish to appear ignorant before the farmers, who I hope to meet in due course.
Daniel was with me today, as stalwart and considerate companion as one could ask for. His presence is a comfort and, in many ways, a thrill. I use that word on purpose, since being the centre of such a handsome man’s attention must always elicit some kind of response. And Daniel, I confess, thrills me.
I wanted so much for him to put his arm around me this morning, but had to settle for staying close enough to detect his fragrance. I liked it.
I liked him calling me Adalyn in such a friendly manner, and the way he smiled at me sent ripples of pleasure throughout my body. I’m not quite sure how it happens, but perhaps because they are all so good looking, these men of Wolfbridge. They smile and I find myself with the urge to wriggle as the warmth surrounds me.
I did not get chance to inquire about his life, or find out any of the details I’d hoped to learn about at least one of my gentlemen. But I feel no rush on that front. For now, enjoying his presence is more than enough.
Mrs. Barnsley is a lovely woman, and one with whom I hope to strike up a solid friendship. She is down to earth and already I feel as if I can ask her anything at all and get a truthful answer.
She made me think…of things I should not. Or, better said, of things I should not want to think. And yet I do think of those things. Daniel reminded me of them today. As Giles does every time he tends to me, and Jeremy does when he gives me that special heated look that seems reserved only for me.
Evan and Trick too, although I have yet to spend much time with either of them, are everything a gentleman should be, and more than enough to send a woman’s pulse into a fast rhythm.
I wonder if any of these men were—involved—with previous ladies of Wolfbridge Manor. And if so, what happened? And what would happen should I end up in that same level of involvement?
And with which one? Or…as Mrs. B. implied…all of them?
What a wicked and stunning suggestion. My mind blanked when she uttered those fateful words, and yet I remember them in crystal clarity. Along with the savage
burst of what I can only describe as desire that wracked my body at the images her words inspired.
My experience with the physical acts of intimacy has been limited and unpleasant. Only a short time ago I promised myself never to let another man touch me, and certainly not inflict such miseries upon my person as did my late and unlamented husband.
And yet here I am, confiding to my diary, writing the words down on paper. The notion of being intimate with any or all of my gentlemen here at Wolfbridge…
Well, it is not…dare I say…out of the question?
I am hesitant. I am afraid too. But balancing those emotions is the curiosity I have about these men and the growing sense that desire is going to play a role in my future here. Is it wrong to have such thoughts? Such fantasies?
In the past, I have resorted to books to find out what I need to know. The Wilkerson shelves held plenty of information about his preferred style of marital intimacy. I never knew that inflicting pain could be an arousal. It certainly didn’t arouse me.
But if I can learn such things from books, I must make a point of researching these other matters that are growing in importance. Surely there are volumes that will tell me if what I feel is normal or beyond the pale. And perhaps tell me what to do about it, should either be the case.
As I came into my chamber and closed the door, I realised that I was glad no other women live in the Manor. It would be all too easy to become jealous of them, should any of my gentlemen glance their way.
I write those words casually, “my gentlemen”, and yet this is how I am coming to think of them, since their every action seems designed to bring me pleasure and make me smile. How did I become so fortunate? To go from nothing to an abundance of everything?
And with the possibilities of more yet to come.
I grow unsettled just thinking about those possibilities…my body aches in private places, and I grow warm…is this lust perhaps? Or desire? How does one know the difference? Another question I have yet to answer…
Chapter Six
Adalyn was very glad she’d asked everyone to join her for dinner that evening. She had questions, and wanted—no, needed—to talk about her day and share her thoughts.
So she managed to change her dress, freshen herself with the water in the ewer and basin, and prepare for a meal she was already looking forward to with a great deal of anticipation.
She would have all her gentlemen together in one place. For the first time since she’d arrived at Wolfbridge, she could look around the table and see everyone at once.
She brushed her hair until it glowed, gathering it into a bundle at the back of her head. Tiny curls sprang free to dance about her face and ears, and to her delight not one hairpin was making her uncomfortable.
In contrast to the years she’d spent suffering under her mother’s hands—a woman who insisted that all ladies should wear their hair pulled up into a bun and secured tightly with those brutal hairpins—Adalyn’s current style was a decadent luxury indeed.
Catching up her dark woollen shawl, she was as ready as she could be, and turned to the door with a light step.
Her reflection flashed back at her from the tall piers glass, and she stopped short, staring at her image.
She saw a woman, not a shadow of one. A woman with a half-smile on her lips and a head held high.
For a few moments she barely recognised herself. The sad girl with lowered eyes and rounded shoulders that tended to droop…that person no longer existed. In her place was the woman Adalyn knew should have been there all along.
At last she was starting to feel free enough to become herself.
A gift indeed.
Hurrying downstairs she found Giles awaiting her arrival. “Sherry before dinner, my Lady?” He held out his arm.
She rested her hand upon it and nodded. “Sounds delightful.”
They walked together into the parlour where a fire burned and the curtains were drawn tightly against the cold January air. It was warm, comfortable and Adalyn accepted a glass of sherry offered by Jeremy, the only other gentleman in the room.
“The others will be here shortly, Lady Adalyn,” he said. “Daniel is changing, Evan is putting the finishing touches to his roast lamb, and Trick wanted to check on one of the horses before securing the stables for the night.”
She sipped her sherry and nodded. “I would not expect any of you to avoid what needs to be done.” She glanced at Giles with some apprehension. “In fact, I’m not sure my suggestion of dinner was a wise one, given everybody’s duties…”
“Be at ease, my Lady. If it had not been advantageous, I would have told you so.”
“I hoped that was the case.” She breathed a little easier.
Jeremy stood by the fireplace, his hand on the mantel. “Did you enjoy your day, my Lady?”
She didn’t immediately respond, since his pose showed him to advantage and she was struck anew by how attractive he was. His eyes seemed to betray humour and kindness whenever they met hers, and although he was not taller than any of his fellows, the strength of his thighs was evident within his close-fitting breeches.
Turning away under the pretext of putting her sherry glass down on a side table, she reminded herself that she had no business thinking about a man’s breeches. “Indeed, I did enjoy the tour, Jeremy.” She turned back with a smile. “Even though it was cold as…well, cold as late January.”
“And your impressions of Wolfbridge?” Giles tipped his head to one side.
“All good,” she replied. “Very good indeed.”
Evan appeared with a tiny gong. He struck it, then chuckled. “A bit redundant, given the guest list, but Daniel is coming downstairs and I just heard Trick closing the outside door. So, my Lady, dinner is served.”
Once again, Giles extended his arm. “May I escort you?”
“You may. Thank you.”
It was a heady moment—being escorted to her own dining table by a butler who could have been a prince of some foreign nation, such was his bearing and manner. And once there, to find four men standing tall, each different, but each almost heartbreakingly handsome in their own ways, waiting for her to take her seat.
She did so with a strange lump of anticipation in her throat.
To be the only woman at a dinner table was unheard of. Or at least she’d never heard a whisper of such a thing. If word got out—well it would be a scandalous tidbit that might ruin her reputation.
Then she realised she didn’t really have a reputation of any kind worth ruining, so she decided to not waste another moment thinking about it.
Although the setting was formal, those at the table were not. Evan stood by the soup tureen and ladled out servings with good humour, mentioning how he’d made sure that Trick’s serving had extra pepper in it, because the man needed more energy.
Given that Trick was probably the most energetic of all of them, the chuckles rolled around the table at the good-natured jest.
That set the tone for the rest of the meal, and Adalyn found herself almost sore from laughing. The food was delicious, and Evan blushed at the compliments.
“Our own mint?” asked Adalyn, dousing the lamb on her plate with the rich green liquid.
“Of course,” he replied. “I picked it fresh this morning. It’s tucked into a little space where it will get sun, but also protected from the worst of the snow and cold.”
The conversation turned to spices, herbs and gardening, and Adalyn broached the notion of walling in more of the kitchen garden to offer additional protection for the tender plants.
Giles looked intrigued, but referred it to Daniel for cost outlay thoughts—and thus the meal passed with talk ranging around the table, ideas being shuffled back and forth, and the general business of Wolfbridge providing fodder for the six sharing the bounty of their land.
Adalyn remained silent more often than not, enjoying the sound of male voices as they discussed, argued, joked and exchanged thoughts. There seemed no acrimony amongst the m
en; to her surprise they all treated each other with respect, a measure of affection such as gentlemen were wont to display, and listened to every opinion or suggestion with interest.
She wondered if this was unique, or perhaps just something she’d not experienced. Even Giles, older and more mature though he was, took part in the conversation willingly, unafraid to ask questions or give his own thoughts on some matter.
She couldn’t help contrasting it with the silent meals she’d grown up with. Her father had insisted that any communication at the table should be of a modest or reflective nature, and if such topics could not be found, then silence would be the preferred alternative.
It had been repressive, she realised. How wonderful it would have been to be able to ask her father and mother questions over an evening meal. To talk with them about things that interested her and to listen to their conversation over similar topics. But that had never happened. She had grown up thinking all meals should be eaten without comment, and her marriage had not altered her beliefs, since her new husband had managed to be mostly drunk by dinnertime and either loudly abrasive or silent with the fog of alcohol surrounding him. On the rare occasions when he was still sober, he would look at her with an expression in his eyes that she found unsettling because it forewarned her of the night to come. And sure enough, her assumption would be proved correct.
Such a short marriage. But so much pain and disillusionment within those few days.
She sighed and Giles must have caught the slight sound, since he turned to her with a question. “If my Lady will permit…perhaps tea in the parlour?”
She smiled. “And brandy for the gentlemen?”
There was a murmur of agreement.
“With your permission,” grinned Giles.
Adalyn rose, as did the men. “Then in that case, of course. And perhaps a wee drop for me as well, rather than tea…”
“You are most thoughtful, my Lady,” smiled Evan. “A lovely way to end the evening.”
Giles snuffed out the candles on the table and covered the remaining dishes.