The Gamble

by Joan Wolf

  And wasn’t that why I had married him?

  I had my luncheon in solitary splendor, as Nanny once more insisted that Anna eat upstairs with her. Philip came in as I was finishing, however, and asked if I would like to take a drive around the estate with him. I accepted, of course, and went upstairs to change out of my morning dress.

  The afternoon was as beautiful as the morning had been, and I commented on this fact rather extensively as the phaeton went down the wide, graveled drive behind two of Philip’s grays half an hour later. Truth to tell, I was feeling rather shy of being alone with him, and I wasn’t quite sure of what to say.

  My voice finally petered out as we left the wide lawns and stately trees that marked the entrance to Winterdale Park, and he asked courteously as he turned his horses down the road, “Did Mrs. Frome show you around this morning?”

  “Yes, she did.” I turned to look at him, happy to have a topic to talk about besides the weather. “I must confess, I was quite overcome. What on earth was your ancestor thinking when he built this house? Did he have a delusion that he was a Venetian doge, not an English earl?”

  He grinned. I was enchanted. I had never seen that boyish expression on his face before.

  “Overwhelming, isn’t it?” he asked. “And it’s freezing in the winter. All that marble may be fine in Italy, where it keeps one cool, but in our English climate . . .”

  He shook his head at the folly of it all.

  I said tentatively, “It hasn’t been well kept up, either. I’m surprised that Lady Winterdale wasn’t a better housekeeper.”

  He shot me a surprised look. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the drapes and the upholstery in my dressing room are very shabby, for one thing. And as Mrs. Frome took me around, I couldn’t help noticing that there are other things that need replacing. It just struck me as odd, that in so wealthy a household . . .”

  My voice petered out. He was frowning, and I had a sudden fear that he thought I would next be asking him for money to make repairs.

  “Not that I care, my lord,” I said hastily. “It is nothing to me if the drapes look shabby. Truly. I don’t want you to think that I am asking you to refurbish the house.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. The thin line between his brows was still there. “I don’t think that. I am just surprised, I suppose. I never noticed anything wrong with the house, you see. But I certainly noticed that there were serious things wrong with the land.”

  It was a moment before his words registered with me. Then I said, “Ah.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Ah, indeed.”

  “That is why your uncle was cheating at cards,” I said. “He needed the money.”

  “He needed money badly,” Philip said. “His man of business and I have spent almost a year trying to work out a recovery plan. It has not been easy, I can tell you that. My uncle’s investments were disastrous.”

  I thought of all the paperwork that was constantly on his desk and began to understand.

  “But Lady Winterdale doesn’t seem to be in financial difficulties,” I said. “Catherine told me that they have been living in Bath since her father died and that Lady Winterdale has rented a house in the nicest part of town.”

  Philip said, “The money for my aunt’s jointure was secured to her when she married. My uncle couldn’t touch it, thank God.” A single eyebrow flew. “The thought of having to support my Aunt Agatha is not a pleasant one to me.”

  I could perfectly understand that.

  A little silence fell between us, and I contemplated with pleasure the peaceful Surrey countryside on either side of the road. Little golden leaves sprang on the poplars that lined the road to our left and at the end of the field to our right the oak trees were misted a pinky brown. Bluebells and wild hyacinths grew in the grassy margin on either side of the road. The air was warm and smelled of spring and earth and growing things.

  A thought struck me and I frowned. “If your uncle’s estate was so encumbered, where did you get the money to pay for a Season for Catherine and me? It must have cost a fortune!”

  Philip’s eyes were focused between the gray ears of his horses, and all I could see of his face was his profile. “I paid for it out of my own money,” he said.

  Silence fell between us as I digested this piece of information.

  “Your own money?” I said tentatively.

  His profile didn’t change. I noticed that his nose had the faintest, aquiline curve to it. That must be what gave him that arrogant look he could sometimes wear.

  He replied in an even voice, “Yes, my own money. Just as I am using my own money to try to get this estate back to where it should be. The tenant farms have been woefully neglected for at least fifteen years. Perhaps longer.”

  I wanted desperately to know where he had got so much money, but I didn’t feel that I had the right to ask. I clutched my hands together in my lap and was grimly silent.

  He said, “Don’t you want to know where my money came from?”

  I turned my whole body around on my seat so I could look at him directly. “Yes,” I said.

  The reckless look that was so dangerously attractive came over his face. He said, “I won it playing E.O. In Italy. In a gaming establishment that was housed in a marble palazzo not unlike Winterdale Park.”

  I could feel my heart sink. I had been right all along. He was a gambler like Papa. I felt unutterably depressed.

  He was going on. “I was twenty-three years old at the time, and unlike my uncle, I took my money and made some shrewd investments with it. I tripled it, in fact, and the money is still growing. I won’t be able to do everything that needs to be done here at Winterdale immediately, of course, but I can foresee that the next five to ten years will see a vast improvement on the estate.”

  This sounded like very hopeful news. I said eagerly, “Does this mean that you don’t gamble anymore, Philip?”

  “No more than is necessary to keep from looking like a pinch-purse,” he said. “I get my thrill these days from my stocks, not from playing E.O.”

  I was so happy that I actually bounced on the seat, like Anna.

  “Oh, Philip, you cannot know how that news has set my mind at rest.”

  He replied soberly, “I understand perfectly well, which is why I have told you all this. I understand how fearful you are of losing your home, and I want you to know that that will never happen.”

  I gave him a radiant smile, which he didn’t see as his eyes were facing front. It occurred to me as I looked at his grave profile, that in this way Philip was not very different from me. After all those transient years, I didn’t think that he wanted to lose his home either.

  * * *

  As we drove around the estate, I was struck by how popular Philip appeared to be with his people. Men laboring in the field would stop and take off their caps as we drove by, and I could see the smiles that lit their weatherworn faces. A few times, when there was someone working in a plowed row that was near the side of the road, Philip would pull up and the man would come over to be introduced to me.

  A typical exchange ran something like this:

  “Is the new roof finished yet, Grimes?”

  “That it is, my lord, and it’s that grand. No more pots for the wife to put out every time it rains!”

  “Heavens,” I said, as we turned for home, “I think we had better live with the shabby curtains for a few more years. You really are spending a fortune on the land.”

  He laughed, and once more I felt that stab of delight that I had made him happy.

  He had talked to me this morning as he had never talked to me before. He had actually confided in me. Deep in my heart, I knew that it was because of what had happened between us last night. I knew that the physical joining between us was what had precipitated this other kind of closeness, and that if I wanted to keep this kind of a bond, then I would have to allow the other.

  He had told me it wouldn’t hurt after the first time, I remi
nded myself bravely. Perhaps the second time wouldn’t be so bad.

  I hadn’t noticed the food at dinner last night because I had been in such an emotional knot, but I noticed it tonight. If one were being kind, one would call it mediocre. After I left Philip to his port, I sent for the butler, Clandon, and asked him what the cook meant by sending up such an ill-cooked meal. Clandon’s face was wooden as he replied, “The dowager Lady Winterdale took the former cook with her when she removed to Bath, my lady. The undercook took over when he left.”

  “Well, the undercook is not adequate, Clandon,” I said. “His lordship cannot be expected to eat overcooked roasts and undercooked potatoes. He left half his meal on his plate tonight.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the butler said.

  “Find another cook,” I recommended. “The present cook may stay on in his original capacity.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Did the Dowager Lady Winterdale abscond with any of the other servants?” I asked curiously.

  A glimmer of amusement came and went in the butler’s eyes. “No, my lady. She only took the cook and her dresser.”

  Philip came into the room as Clandon was leaving, and I told him about looking for a new cook.

  “Haven’t you noticed how dreadful the meals are here at Winterdale?” I asked.

  “Actually, I have noticed. I just have had too many other things on my mind to do anything about it.”

  “Well, now that you have a wife you don’t have to do anything about it,” I said. “I will.”

  He gave me an assessing look. “If I had known how convenient a wife would be, perhaps I would have married sooner.”

  I could feel color flush into my face. I couldn’t think of an answer.

  He said, “Do you know how to play chess?”

  I stared at him in astonishment. “No.”

  “Would you like to learn?”

  “Why . . . yes. That would be fun.”

  “Good,” he said, moving over to a satinwood table with an inlaid chessboard. A set of elegant carved ivory pieces were already set in place on the board. “Come along, and I’ll teach you.”

  I moved slowly toward the board, not quite sure what to think.

  He looked at my face. “You’re too sore to do anything else tonight, Georgie,” he said gently. “Let’s play chess.”

  I felt as if a stone had rolled off of my chest. I smiled, took my seat across from him, and looked intently at the carved pieces, determined to astonish him with my intelligence.

  “Now,” he began, lifting the smallest piece on the board, “these are the pawns. . . .”

  * * *

  The chess game was fun. Philip played without his queen and his knights, and he still beat me, but I was pleased that I got the feel of how the pieces moved around on the board. I could see why people liked the game. It made one think.

  I spent a good part of the following day with Anna, who appeared to be adjusting to life at Winterdale more swiftly than I dared to hope. The promised donkey had arrived, and with it a small cart that Anna could use to drive around the pathways that ran through the large fifty-acre park that stretched out behind the house. These paths wound through the foliage and the open glades of the park, which had little buildings like the summerhouse and the Italian pavilion and even a marble campanile.

  The donkey Philip had found was both adorable and docile. No matter how Anna slapped the reins, he never moved out of a walk. And Philip had assigned one of the footmen to keep a constant eye on Anna when she was out of doors.

  “I have had Edward checked out thoroughly, and he is perfectly trustworthy,” Philip told me. “He will keep Anna within his sights all the time that she is in the garden.”

  “Is that really necessary?” I asked doubtfully. “Nanny was perfectly capable of watching her when she was at home.”

  But Philip shook his head. “There are a large number of servants in this house, and I cannot vouch for the integrity of all of them. Anna is extremely vulnerable, Georgie. She is incapable of protecting herself, and her beauty is enough to tempt any man to do something he should not.” His mouth had looked very hard. “Believe me, I have seen more of the world than you have, and I will not be comfortable unless I know that Anna has protection.”

  Edward was a big, friendly boy, the son of one of Winterdale’s tenant farmers, and Anna liked him very much, so I didn’t put up an objection. In truth, after what had happened with Lord Marsh, I myself was inclined to be more cautious than I had been in the past about my little sister.

  Clandon had hired a London agency to find us a cook, but until that goal was accomplished we were forced to put up with the inadequacies of the present denizen of our kitchen. In consequence, I ordered one of the simplest meals that I could think of: a plain consommé, no fish, roasted chicken, roast potatoes, green beans, and ice cream for dessert. It was quite tolerable and I was happy to see that Philip ate all of his portion. I had thought for a long time that he was too thin.

  After dinner we played chess in the drawing room for an hour, and then Philip suggested that I get ready for bed.

  The getting-ready part was a nightmare repeat of my wedding night. Betty helped me undress and I entered my bedroom with a sickening feeling of fear and apprehension in the pit of my stomach. I got into my marital bed, and after a few minutes Philip came in from his dressing room.

  He got into the bed beside me, leaned up on his left elbow, and gently smoothed the hair off my forehead with the fingers of his right hand. He said softly, “Relax, sweetheart. It will be different tonight, I promise you.”

  Easy for him to say, I thought bitterly. No matter what he might try to tell me, my body could not easily forget that painful violation of two nights ago.

  “Just kiss me,” he said, and slowly he bent his head to my mouth. His lips felt warm and soft and comforting against mine, not brutally hard and demanding as they had been before. After a few minutes, when I had actually began to feel easier, the tip of his tongue slid gently between my lips. I went very still, wary of what would come next, but he didn’t thrust any deeper. After a few minutes of this, very tentatively, I touched his tongue with my own. Very very gradually our kiss deepened, and of my own volition, I found myself taking his tongue deeper and deeper into my mouth.

  He put his hands on either side of my face, caressed my temples and ears with gentle fingers, and the rest of my body began to flood with lovely warm sensations.

  After a while his mouth left mine to trail a rain of soft kisses all the way down my throat. My nightdress was cut low and he pushed the neck down, continuing to move his lips slowly and caressingly down my throat until finally he arrived at my breast. As he took my nipple between his lips and began to play with it with his tongue, I could feel the first waves of sensation begin to ripple through the lower part of my body. His hands slowly stroked over my waist, my hips, and down to my legs. He began to push up my nightdress.

  My breath caught on a harsh, fearful sob.

  He stopped immediately and smiled down at me. “It will be all right, sweetheart,” he said again. “Trust me. I won’t fail you this time.”

  It was the rare, sweet smile that had always melted my heart.

  “What if we do this?” he continued. “If ever you want me to stop doing something, just say so and I will.”

  I stared up at him, my eyes wide. “You will?”

  “I promise.”

  I believed him, and slowly the fear that had once more begun to build up inside of me drained away. I let myself reach out and touch his thick, raven black hair.

  His fingers came up and caressed the soft skin of my inner thighs. I began to quiver. His mouth came back to mine. He kissed me and kissed me and moved his finger up to touch me between my legs. I quivered harder, my body growing tauter and tauter, like a bow waiting to be shot. I opened my legs wider to give him better access.

  This went on for a while, and it never once occurred to me to tell him to stop.

>   When finally he moved between my thighs, I was so lost in sensation that I actually lifted my legs for him. Slowly, with infinite care, he eased inside me, giving me a chance to stretch and accommodate him without pain.

  Then he was all the way in, and the feeling of having him there was indescribable.

  He looked down into my face, his eyes blazingly blue. “All right, sweetheart?”

  My reply was husky and breathless. “All right.”

  I reached up my arms and held him tight. Inside I was totally open to him. Slowly, he began to move, back and forth, back and forth, and I followed his movements, holding on to him frantically, seeking the release that I needed so desperately.

  I shifted, so that my legs were high around his waist and my hips were tilted up. That was when he began to drive.

  “Philip,” I said. “Oh God. Philip.”

  I didn’t know what was happening to me, and I didn’t think I could stand it if it went on much longer. If it did, I thought, I would surely die.

  As if from a great distance I heard him saying my name, over and over and over.

  And then it happened, a great earth-shattering explosion of physical ecstasy that was so intense it was almost paralyzing. Almost at the same time I felt Philip shudder and groan, and I knew that he was experiencing the same intense eruption of pleasure that I was.

  We hung on to each other with ferocious intensity, two people in one body, as we flew together through the spheres.

  I don’t know how much time passed before I actually felt the heavy weight of his naked, sweaty body on mine, as it had been two days before, but tonight I didn’t mind at all. I rejoiced in it, in fact. I held him close, my lips against the black hair that was pressed against my cheek, and I reveled in the heavy sound of his thudding heart against my own.

  At last he said, “I’m too heavy for you,” and rolled away, but he kept one of his arms flung across my stomach just beneath my breasts. He closed his eyes, dozing, and I turned my head and feasted my eyes on his face.