by May Burnett
Cherry sat down on a piano bench. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Since you ask, there is something you might explain.” Anthea knew the question was not delicate or polite, and would have horrified her mother, but she did not care. “Silas made an unfavourable comparison between you and me. He appears to believe you would not mind letting a man put his tongue in your mouth. Is this really customary between betrothed couples? It is gross.”
“He spoke of Cherry in such a vulgar manner? The cad!” Cecily exclaimed. “Does it mean he is attracted to you, Cherry? When you are a married woman, and he is betrothed to Anthea?”
“Attraction can occur quite independently of such ties,” Cherry said carefully. “Does it bother you, Anthea, what he said?”
“Oh – you mean, am I jealous of you? Not at all.” Anthea paused for a moment. “I suppose I should be, but no. What does that mean?”
“That you don’t care for him anymore,” Cecily stated cheerfully. “It is about time the scales fell from your eyes. Silas is selfish to the bone, and will make some woman a horrible husband. I hope and pray it will not be you.”
Anthea did not answer at once.
“If you do not love him, it might still be possible to build on friendship and respect,” Cherry said. “But if there is no mutual respect, any marriage is doomed. I know from bitter experience.”
Anthea was surprised. “Yet you and Jonathan seem happy enough.”
“Oh, we are. Very happy. But my first husband did something to make me lose all respect for him. From that moment we were just living together like strangers. It was painful and humiliating. I would never wish that kind of life on you.”
“Everyone said Silas was such a great catch – so handsome, and elegant,” Anthea said bitterly. “He never showed me his domineering side until after the betrothal was announced.”
“Be glad you saw it before the wedding. You can still bolt,” Cecily advised.
“It is not so easy,” Anthea said uneasily. “I actually tried to break things off just now, when he became so overbearing, but he would not listen. Very likely my parents will take his side, since I don’t have any substantive grounds to change my mind. Nothing that society would take notice of. Everyone will say I was a fool and a jilt.”
Cecily shrugged. “Still preferable to an unhappy marriage.”
“Tell your father you mistook your feelings,” Cherry advised. “I have a notion he is not overly fond of Lord Winstanton. You can easily find someone better to replace him.”
Cecily nodded. “Not a Viscount, maybe, but a decent human being. With all your own advantages, you don’t have to settle for someone who bullies you.”
Silas had tried to bully her, hadn’t he? How odd that Cecily should have seen him so clearly all along. Anthea had been a fool, to be taken in by superficial charm and social cachet.
“You are right,” she said. “I shall tell Silas that I cannot marry him, and inform my parents about my decision when it is a fait accompli.”
“You are doing the only sensible thing,” Cecily said firmly.
“I think so too,” Cherry said. “I don’t know you as well as Cecily does, but it has bothered me already these last few days, to see with how little consideration Lord Winstanton was treating you. If he is like that before the wedding, he would make an impossible husband.”
Anthea nodded. She knew what she had to do – but why did she feel such a strong sense of foreboding?
Chapter 15
If someone withholds important knowledge, whatever they say, it is rarely for your own good.
Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, by A Lady, London 1823
Anthea caught up to her mother as the Countess descended the staircase on her way to breakfast on Sunday morning, already dressed for Church. Even in warm autumn clothing she was elegant from the top of her blond head to the tip of her fine leather shoes.
“Mother,” Anthea asked, “just what is involved in submitting to a husband?”
Lady Desborough stopped on the first-floor landing and threw a glance around. “It means allowing him to take all major decisions, as is the law and custom of the land.”
“I think Silas meant something else. He tried to kiss me just before he used the phrase.”
“Oh.” The Countess’s face took on a rosy tinge. “That is something he will show you on your wedding night, you don’t need to worry about it now. It is better to put it altogether out of your mind until then.”
That was completely impossible, of course, especially now her mother’s embarrassment had betrayed that there was something worth knowing.
“Are you sure, Mother? I would feel much more confident about the marriage if I had a better idea what to expect.”
“Anthea Desborough, that is quite enough. I have told you not to pry into what is not yet fit for your ears. And on a Sunday morning yet!”
Anthea gave up. Her mother was not easy to budge. There just might be time to consult Cherry in her sitting-room before they set out. As a twice-married woman her sister probably knew more than Mother, anyway.
She found Cherry alone, reclining on a sofa with a book. At first she proved reluctant to speak frankly, referring Anthea back to her mother.
“Mother tells me that Silas will show me after we are married,” Anthea said, “but I want to know beforehand. Were you completely ignorant on your first wedding night?”
“They call it innocence, but as you say, it is really ignorance.” Cherry hesitated for a few moments longer. “Very well, you are quite right that you ought to know what you have let yourself in for.” With clear, easy to understand phrases she described the act that would consummate a marriage.
Anthea stared at her in consternation. “You mean, like our dogs when they are in heat?”
Cherry’s lips twitched. “Not quite, because humans feel it differently, at least so I would suppose. Still, the act has a superficial similarity. Remember that besides our immortal souls we also have animal natures.”
Anthea sputtered.
“Another difference,” Cherry continued in her resolutely unromantic way, “is that animals do it only in one position that I know of, while we humans are a great deal more inventive.”
“We are? But why would people want to engage in something so revolting? Is it worth it, just to have babies?”
Cherry smiled. “It may seem revolting to you now, but with a little practice it does not have to be at all awkward or unpleasant. For men sex is almost universally pleasurable, or they would not be able to perform. For a woman, the experience can range from horrible and painful to delightful and even sublime, depending on how she feels about the man and how skilled he is.”
Another new concept to wrap her mind around. “It takes skill?”
“Oh, yes. Women also develop more skill over time, with the least encouragement.”
“So when Silas referred to my submitting to him after we are married, he is planning to do – that – to me?”
“Of course. All married couples do it. The phrase in the marriage service, ‘with my body I thee worship,’ is a veiled reference to what happens in the marriage bed.”
Anthea thought hard. A great many things that had puzzled her over the last year began to make sense. “It does not happen only in the marriage bed, does it? All those mistresses and ladies of easy virtue in London – they do that, without being married?”
“Indeed. Prostitutes and courtesans do it for money, in some cases a great deal of money and expensive jewels.”
Anthea wrinkled her nose. “How would any woman bring herself –”
“Don’t judge something that is completely outside your own experience. Some are driven to it by need and desperation or the unfairness of fate. Not everyone has the good fortune to be born an Earl’s daughter.”
Anthea flushed. “Still, it just is so disgusting.”
“These courtesans only prosper because rich men – and poor ones too, if they have the chance – in ma
ny cases married men, engage their services. Don’t blame the women without blaming the men at least equally.”
“Married men?”
“Very frequently. You must have heard of gentlemen keeping mistresses. In some cases it is like a second family, with children even, just not the name.”
Anthea was silent, trying to imagine how humiliating it must be for one’s husband to have such a second household.
“So that is how natural children come to be. I had wondered.”
“The ones who know their father at all are lucky. The vast majority have no idea who he might be, because a child can come from the most casual one-time encounter. For most of my life I was suspected of illegitimacy, though there was no proof. I have great sympathy for anyone who innocently suffers that fate.”
Anthea returned to her main concern. “This submitting to a husband –are you positive that it is necessary?”
“If you marry, you have to permit your husband to enjoy your body. If he has the least skill and consideration, it is nothing to fear, Anthea.”
She did not fail to catch the qualification. “How can I know if he is any good at doing this?”
“That is why men are keen to have complete novices as their brides, so that no invidious comparisons can be made. A virgin will not be able to tell if it is her fault she did not enjoy the act, or her husband’s, though in nine out of ten cases it will be due to his incompetence.”
“That is just unfair.”
“I quite agree, but then much in life is unfair.”
Anthea pictured herself on a bed with Silas, doing what Cherry had described. Without foreknowledge, unaware of what expected her, she would die of mortification and shame. “How can my mother expect me to endure something so awful without the slightest warning?”
“There is a school of thought that it is pointless to worry a girl beforehand, the husband will simply have to calm down his nervous bride. Of course some husbands are more sensitive than others in such a tense situation.”
Her sister was too tactful to openly call Silas an insensitive brute. He was the last person she would entrust with calming fears and qualms, especially while bent on his own pleasure. It was not as though Anthea were particularly nervous or skittish. With adequate knowledge, she could deal with anything. She would not easily forgive her mother for leaving her in ignorance of such crucial facts, however.
She remembered the origin of her discoveries. “And this kissing with the tongue?”
“It is a prelude, a preparatory step towards the real intimacy between a man and woman. If you find it pleasant with a particular man, odds are you will also enjoy doing the rest. If not, well...”
Anthea nodded tersely. No need to spell it out. If she went ahead with her marriage to Silas, his tongue in her mouth was the least she would have to endure.
“It seems so incredible that anyone could enjoy it, Cherry.”
“Nonetheless I can assure you, from personal experience, that it is not at all unpleasant with the right man.”
Cherry would not go into any more detail, and Anthea had heard enough. It would take some time to digest this horrible news.
“It is not necessary to tell my mother that you have explained these things to me,” Anthea said as she prepared to leave. “It would only upset her. But I am very glad you did. Knowing the worst is better than being kept in the dark.”
“Yes, that is what I too have always believed.”
Chapter 16
Proximity brings out your nascent feelings.
Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, by A Lady, London 1823
Charles was very conscious of Lady Anthea’s gloved hand upon his arm. What a fool Winstanton was, to let another fellow escort his fiancée to Church. Any man should have been proud of the privilege. She was the not only pretty, but one of the sweetest girls he’d ever known, with high spirits that would make her a delightful companion at any age. Even when she was silent, it was fascinating to watch thoughts chase across her brow, or a faint smile crinkle the edge of her pink lips. This morning she was unusually grave. What might be the reason?
There was no time to talk in the short interval between helping her descend, and taking their places in the Desborough pew. Lady Anthea sat next to Charles, almost touching. They were breathing the same air.
The church was full to bursting. The population of the village must have increased since the church was built, some three centuries ago by Charles’s estimate. He had always liked ecclesiastical architecture, particularly from the Gothic period.
The organist’s back, clad in a dark grey coat, was turned to the congregation. It was dwarfed by the huge metal pipes rising heavenwards. The organist struck the first chord, and the choir raised their voices.
Charles watched the elderly vicar celebrate mass with more than casual interest. This might be his future, an essential part of his work. Could he do it? Would he be any good? Dr Twombley had an air of long practice, a gravitas that had taken decades to perfect. Could a younger vicar be taken as seriously by the parishioners? Was he mad, to think that he could be entrusted with the spiritual welfare of a whole congregation? It was perhaps natural that he felt hesitant, less than enthusiastic at the prospect. For the last ten years, it had never occurred to him that he might seek this path in life. The notion was like a new pair of boots, still stiff and a less than perfect fit. But for that storm, he would never have sought such a future.
Yet his previous career also had its drawbacks. Over those years on St. Romain there had been long stretches of leisure and introspection. While he had been good enough at his task, administrative work did not adequately fulfil his need to be useful. Indeed, at times it had been difficult to reconcile his ideal of Christian charity with his professional duties. His knack of attracting confidences and appeals for help had more than once placed him in the position of de facto confessor and counsellor, and yet he was supposed to be impartial and strict. That one execution he had had to order … Charles did not like to think of it, but neither did he shy away from the memory. He had seen the evil men did – and women too, though their scope was usually smaller; he had no illusions about the flawed nature of mankind, or his own weaknesses.
The three clergymen on the island had not been paragons by any means. One was a sour prig who hated women, the other a drunkard and the third was far more interested in nature studies than in his religious duties. As imperfect as he might be, Charles could do better than that. Yet was that good enough?
The congregation stood, and bowed their heads. Charles put away his reminiscences, and prayed for guidance.
If his grandfather withheld the bulk of the family fortune from his control, Charles would not have sufficient means to found a great institution like a hospital or school. Yet was it not hubris to aim for that in any case? In any such undertaking, the bulk of the money would go to architects and builders. If he had to make do with less, he would have to consider carefully how to achieve the greatest good with the resources at his disposal.
Most parishes already had struggling foundling homes, charity schools, or hospices. The benefices attached to older charities sometimes grew in value, but in all too many other cases they dwindled over time. Rich benefactors generally wanted something new, all their own, to blazon their name in perpetuity – as had been his initial impulse as well, he acknowledged almost guiltily. Vainglory was also a sin. He would have to think on his plans further, and see where the Lord led him.
Charles imagined himself ten years in the future, standing at the pulpit like Dr Twombley, who had just begun his sermon. The vicar’s erudition was obvious, but from the faces of the faithful, not universally appreciated. Mrs Durwent at least was gravely attentive, holding up well. Lady Anthea looked thoughtful.
By the time he was allowed to preach, Charles would in all likelihood be married, and his wife – and later his children – would be there in the crowd, listening to his effusions. Too bad that the woman who had most attracted him in many mon
ths was the betrothed lady at his side. His stupid mind kept confusing her lovely image with the nebulous mental picture of the future Mrs. Charles Denham.
Such wishful thinking had to be nipped in the bud. How was he to court another young lady, if he kept comparing her to an unattainable aristocrat? Even had Lady Anthea been free, she could do much better in any worldly sense, particularly once he publicly announced his future career plans. The life of a Viscountess was a suitable fate for a well-dowered earl’s daughter. And yet, had he met her at her come-out, before it was too late, might he not have stood a chance? He would only inherit a baronetcy, but his lineage and fortune were not contemptible by any means, and had he determined to pursue a career in administration, diplomacy or politics, he might have been considered acceptable for a young lady of Anthea’s birth and circumstances. But why was he even thinking about this possibility? It was as pointless as it was painful.
If only the man she was going to wed were more worthy of her. It was difficult to imagine the vibrant young girl standing next to him married to Lord Winstanton. They would make a pretty couple, of course. Their children would be blonde like their parents, tall and attractive.
He had to strive to forget her, yet how could he while he saw her every day, at every meal, and spent more time in her company than her own betrothed? It might be advisable to cut this stay at Desborough Hall short. Yet he had not seen his grandfather for all those years, and would not deny him these weeks together. Coming back to the empty house in London had driven home the fact that he would not always have his grandfather.
And in his heart of hearts, Charles was strongly averse to leaving prematurely.
He prayed for the Lord to protect Lady Anthea and ensure a long and happy life for her, full of the love and admiration she deserved.
He could always begin looking for a bride after January, when she was irrevocably wed.