All three looked up at her question. “A bit of moving, today,” answered Matty. “James mentioned the office being very cold and dreary, not to mention far away. Since I’m not using the room any longer, I suggested we turn it into his office.”
“Oh, of course,” said Dahlia. Matty and Trevor stayed in his rooms when they were at the castle, or returned to their home off the estate.
James was glad that Matty had answered for him. After what had happened with Mary, he didn’t dare continue to use his office as a substitute bedroom. He didn’t even want to work in the out of the way room near the servants’ quarters. After the first encounter with Mary, he had sworn not to let his marital frustrations lead him down such a dangerous path. He had convinced himself that that encounter was purely a physical release that he had needed so desperately, and that Mary could never construe that as anything other than a cold, unfeeling union that had everything to do with sex and nothing to do with emotion. Last night, however, if what he remembered of his dream was any indication, he had treated Mary as he would have Dahlia: with tenderness and feeling, and love. Mary’s reaction when they woke left him in no doubt that she had wanted his affections, even if she had been willing to settle for his body. He never meant to lead her to believe she would ever achieve his love, but his actions had told her differently. He remembered her anger when he claimed he thought she was Dahlia. True though that claim was, he recognized how stupid it sounded when he said it.
His uncle’s stern voice reverberated in his head this morning as James remembered Lord Telford’s warning not to indulge in any amoral activity as once one did it, the easier it became to do again and again. Ironic words given what he now knew about his uncle and his “amoral” activities, but the truth of the words stung nonetheless. He could not allow himself to continue to turn to Mary as a substitute for Dahlia. Neither woman deserved that. Dahlia didn’t deserve to feel the pain of knowing her husband was sleeping with one of the household servants because she could not help her fears borne out of another man’s cruelty. Mary, as common as she was, did not deserve to be led on and toyed with when he absolutely had no regard for her whatsoever.
So James took what steps he could to ensure that no other “misunderstandings” re-occurred. If he didn’t trust himself in the same bed as Dahlia, let him sleep in a different room – with a locked door and very close to his wife at least. It alleviated some of the self-loathing he had felt this morning. Now, he just prayed Dahlia would never find out about it.
“That will be much more convenient for you, James, what with all the hours you work. I just came to give you this,” Dahlia said, handing him her father’s letter.
“Oh, thank you, Dahlia.” He took the letter, giving Matty a sidelong glance as he did.
Both Trevor and Dahlia caught the look, but neither said anything. Dahlia left while the other three continued to make adjustments to the new office. When they had done, Trevor took Matty’s arm to leave, but James said quickly, “Could I borrow your wife for a moment, MacTavish?”
Trevor expected that the two, once again, would review the contents of Squire Talbot’s letter together. He could not wheedle out of her whatever it was the letter contained if she didn’t know what it was, so he just smiled and said good-naturedly, “Aye, but only for a moment.” He kissed Matty quickly and left them alone.
James and Matty immediately sat down together on a couch that had been borrowed from an empty room. James tore open the letter and found only a short note written on its interior. They both scanned it quickly, learning that the only news Squire Talbot could convey was that Gwendolyn Hammel, the milliner’s daughter, had disappeared the same day as Edward Standford and they had, according to Mrs. Hammel, gone off together. Dahlia’s father expressed his belief that they would soon find where the two had gone through a communication from the young Gwen to her mother, although the mother had received nothing yet.
James and Matty looked at one another, feeling as if they were getting closer to the whole truth of what happened at the ravine that awful, fateful day. “That is good news,” started Matty. “Even if Edward didn’t want Gwen to tell her mother where they were, ‘tis a strong bond between mother and daughter. Likely she’ll sneak a note to her as soon as she can. Perhaps they have not yet gotten settled.”
“Settled?” James asked. “Was there something between them?”
“I never heard anything else definitive, but I remember Dahlia thinking there was something between them, especially after the Roma banquet.”
James remembered Dahlia mentioning her conversation with Edward while they danced, and her opinion of him changing as a result. “It would make sense,” he said, thinking about it. “If Edward was in love with this Gwen, but his father wanted him to marry Dahlia, the two would have had a serious conflict of interest.”
Matty nodded as she followed his logic. “Yes,” she agreed. “Still, if his father had told him what he had done to our Dahlia, he should have reported it instead of running away. Coward!”
James couldn’t help but agree.
Chapter 77
James was in his mother’s suite of rooms, pacing. He had come under the pretext of asking her to assist with making Dahlia’s birthday celebration special, but he really needed her advice and guidance with regards to his marriage. Despite his false pretenses, she had given him a brilliant idea for Dahlia’s gift. His mother’s insight and wisdom never ceased to amaze him. For this reason, he really wanted her to tell him how to deal with Dahlia and her inability to be intimate with him based on her insidious run-in with Standford.
What James had not counted on, however, was how difficult it would be to explain the situation to his mother so she could help him rectify it. He started his opening sentence three times, each time stopping and reorganizing his thoughts. His mother waited patiently without saying anything, just watching him. Finally, she decided to end his discomfort.
“You want to know how to initiate marital relations with Dahlia, without terrifying her.”
James stopped pacing and stared at his mother. “How did you know?”
“The servants talk. The walls have ears – and so do I. Since you’ve slept with Mary Gordon – on at least two occasions, but I know you to be madly in love with your wife, I can only presume that you and she have not been able to get past what happened on Christmas. Am I right?”
James looked at her as if she could read minds. “Yes! And it’s driving me crazy and making her miserable. She doesn’t even understand why I don’t trust myself to sleep in the same room as her. I would never want to do anything to…to pressure her.” He shook his head, remembering the terror in her eyes.
“James, from your uncle’s letters I have the impression that you have…significant experience, shall we say, with the ladies.”
A scowl appeared on her son’s face at mention of his uncle, but it was replaced with surprise when his mother continued.
“Use it to your advantage.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“I mean that your ‘wild ways,’ as your uncle put it, must have enabled you to learn many things about intimacy with a woman. There are multiple ways for a man and woman to pleasure one another, are there not?”
Anna could tell James was trying to think how this could help his situation, while still wondering at the fact that he was having this conversation with his mother.
“Yes.”
“Think about it, son. Young men are expected to experiment before marriage. Your uncle thinks you did so more than most. At the same time, society expects a woman to know nothing on her wedding night. It is the man who must instruct his bride. Dahlia needs you to lead the way. If she has a fear of being trapped, you must tell her – show her – that a woman can…change positions.”
Realization dawned in James’ mind. “Ah…” he said, remembering how Daisy used to like to sit astride him as he lay on the bed. Then, he looked at his mother sharply, which made her laugh.
“I bore six children, James. You don’t think all of you were conceived in a single position, do you?”
James laughed with her. “No, I suppose not. But I also didn’t think we’d ever be discussing those positions.”
Anna got up and took her son’s hands. “You are as kind and as good a man as your father, James. I won’t embarrass you further with more specific recommendations, but instead of running away from Dahlia and leaving her to wonder why – or what she has done wrong when she’s done nothing except be a victim, you must help her. Show her what she can do for you so you don’t have to go to Mary. You mustn’t be ashamed or make her to feel so.”
James squeezed his mother’s hands, then brought them to his lips. “Thank you, Mother.”
-----
Dahlia’s birthday began with breakfast in bed brought by James on a tray with flowers from Trevor’s hot house. The distance she had felt between them for the past week seemed to evaporate with his excitement of making this day special for her. He was all jokes and smiles, and his easy-going manner that had originally endeared him to her, did so again.
When she had finished breakfast, he took the tray from her lap. “I’ll take this down and send Matty up to help you dress. Bundle up,” he called over his shoulder. “We’re venturing outside today!”
Intrigued, Dahlia threw back the covers and went to wash up.
An hour later she descended to the foyer with Rory bounding down beside her. James was at the bottom of the staircase in the foyer waiting for her. They both donned coats and hats, gloves and scarves, then headed outside. Dahlia heard the snow crunched beneath their feet, and squinted in the bright sunlight reflecting off the white landscape. She thought that a sleigh would be waiting for them, but there was not. James took her arm and led her on a short walk to one of the adjoining buildings. As she stepped into the relative darkness, it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust during which time she smelled a variety of scents. As each reached her olfactory, they registered comfort, love, and home. She was in a barn with horses, hay, and leather tack.
“Come,” said James. “I need to introduce you to somebody.”
He took her to the middle of a row of eight stalls. When they approached, a brown nose appeared over the gate, followed by two dark brown, intelligent eyes.
“Dahlia, this is Cerdwyn. It means ‘goddess of Earth.’ It was a good name to give her, since she is surefooted and always seems to know how to get back home – even when her rider doesn’t.”
Dahlia laughed, stroking the horse’s nose. “You sound like you know this from experience.”
“I do. The weather can change very quickly here in the Highlands, and when the fog sets in it can be very difficult to see any landmarks to guide your way. Cerdwyn here is like a homing pigeon. She also seems to remember every tree and rock and stream she’s ever been to. She’s about fourteen now, but you can take her out all day and she’ll be as fresh when you return as when you left.”
“Well, you’ve quite a fan here, Cerdwyn, haven’t you?” Dahlia said to the mare.
“She’s not Talisman, but she’s yours, Dahlia.”
“Mine?”
“Aye. Knowing how you like to race around, I figured I’d better give you a horse that will take care of you in a landscape you don’t know.”
“Oh, James! Thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him before turning to open the stall door. She walked in slowly to inspect her horse, talking softly to it and running her hand soothingly over its lines. The bay mare patiently waited, watching the young woman in her stall with a steady eye.
“You are gorgeous!” Dahlia said to the horse, who whinnied as if in agreement.
“She’s been trained to be ridden sidesaddle, or you can ride astride,” James added.
“Oh, I don’t know that I dare to that here,” Dahlia said, giving him a sidelong glance.
“I happen to know that Matty brought your riding skirt to wear over your breeches.”
Between knowing she had a horse to ride again – and that James would let her push the bounds of protocol regarding her riding style and attire, Dahlia felt the veil of her depression rise. She had not lost all she had before the accident. It changed form, perhaps, but was not gone. James had returned it to her. She had no words for the significance of this gift, and wasn’t sure he would entirely understand the depth of her appreciation since she had not voiced her feelings of loss since marrying him and coming to Scotland.
“Do you feel up to trying her out?”
“Now? With snow on the ground?”
“Yes. These horses are bred for the region. Shall we take a short ride?”
“Oh, yes!” Dahlia could barely contain her excitement.
When the horses were tacked, James gave her a leg up. He mounted his horse, and the two left the inner courtyard at a stately walk.
Mary watched from the window, an angry pit of jealousy in her stomach.
The remainder of Dahlia’s birthday only increased her happiness. Trevor and Matty had arranged for a photographer from the village to come and take a portrait of Dahlia and James, for which they sat in the afternoon after dressing for dinner. She didn’t understand the process of capturing life on film, but she doubted the big box could produce a likeness that conveyed the elation she felt. Her ride with James had been exhilarating. Cerdwyn had a lovely gait and the physical exertion of riding again – especially on such a cold, clear day – had left her feeling truly alive. It was as if all the time spent indoors since her accident had put her senses into hibernation. She almost expected to hear Cerdwyn’s music, though it never materialized in her mind.
The birthday dinner prepared for her included all of her favorite dishes. Afterwards, Trevor played and sang, and Matty told one of her favorite stories to the delight of the entire family, not just Dahlia.
The joy on Dahlia’s face throughout the evening only deepened the frown on Mary’s face as she observed the proceedings. She cared little for all the gifts bestowed on the young Mrs. Kent, but everyone’s pleasure in delighting her grated on her nerves. Every attention paid to her by her husband – and they were considerable, if not constant during the course of the night - served to irritate her further.
The next morning in the kitchen, Mary could not contain her ire and she railed against the injustice she felt.
“She doesn’t deserve his affection and I don’t see why all the fuss was made over her. We have two dozen birthdays a year in this castle. If we celebrated each of them like that Christmas would seem like just another day!”
“It was her first since arriving,” put in Maggie in a small voice. She liked the young Mrs. Kent.
Mary glared at her, then looked away. “Well, I hope it will be her last! Quite the little princess, being waited on hand and foot since she arrived.”
Grace chuckled, not bothering to look up from her bowl of beans she was snapping. “Ye can hardly blame her for that, she was at death’s door when she arrived.”
“Well, the coldness of death stayed with her then. For why else would her husband come looking for me? He dotes on her night and day, giving her lavish gifts and praise and she’s given him nothing in return. A cold-hearted, frigid woman she must be to neglect his bed to the point that he comes to me – repeatedly,” she emphasized. “And make no bones about it. James made love to me last week!”
Grace had heard enough of Mary’s bitterness and exaggeration of the fact that she’d only heard of two occasions on which Master Jamie had visited the servants’ quarters at night. She looked up to redress Mary, but stopped with her mouth open.
The young Mrs. Kent stood in the doorway of the kitchen.
Chapter 78
Grace, horrified at how much the young woman would have overheard, just stared at her for a moment. Mary had her back to the door, but upon seeing Grace’s expression, turned on the spot. Maggie, confused by the abrupt silence, looked from Grace to Mary to Dahlia.
Dahlia had hear
d quite enough of Mary’s diatribe. At first, she did not link the “cold-hearted, frigid woman” to herself until Mary’s claim that James had made love to her. There was only one person in the castle who went by the name of James, and it was her husband.
Nobody said anything. Nobody moved. It was as if the whole world had frozen in time. It was Grace who had the presence of mind to break the silence.
“Can I help you with something, Mrs. Kent?”
Dahlia slowly shifted her gaze from Mary to the chief cook. “No, Grace,” she said with a composure that surprised her. “I just came to thank you for the wonderful birthday meal you prepared for me.”
“’Twas my pleasure.” For a split second, Grace held the slimmest hope that Dahlia had not arrived in time to hear Mary gloat about her relations with Jamie. As Dahlia’s gaze shifted to Mary, however, that hope evaporated. The young Mrs. Kent stared at Mary as if seeing her for the first time. Then, she turned and left.
Dahlia was numb as Mary’s words reverberated in her mind. Over and over she heard the maid’s angry and boastful rantings. She slowly put on her coat, hat and scarf and grabbed her gloves. Before she knew where she was going, she found herself in the stable. One of the grooms she had met the other day greeted her. She must have greeted him in return, for he smiled and asked if he could saddle up Cerdwyn for her.
By the time Dahlia mounted and left the stable yard, she couldn’t remember any interaction with the young boy at all. Her body acted instinctively as she urged the horse on. She saw a single pine resting on a hill some distance from the castle and made for it. The solitary tree was like a beacon that she followed unconsciously while a thousand thoughts flew around her conscious mind. ‘James made love to me just last week’ kept repeating itself over and over, interrupted only by the phrase ‘cold-hearted, frigid woman.’
Dahlia did not return to the castle for several hours. The only thing that caused her to return was the welfare of her horse. Bred for the region or not, the cold air could be detrimental to the animal’s lungs. The pine tree that was her destination must have been at least four or five miles away – further than she had anticipated. When she reached it, all the myriad thoughts that had formed a whirlwind in her mind had settled into place like puzzle pieces forming a picture. The return trip to the castle served to let Dahlia think on what to do.
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