By the end of the ceremony though, Sir Anthony had himself firmly under control, and any sympathy or warm feelings Beth may have felt for him had been well and truly annihilated by having to stand at his side and endure an hour and a half of his simpering, unctuous and fluttery responses to the endless parade of guests giving their congratulations. Although, she had to grudgingly admit, he was very good at it. He had managed to give a different response to everyone, and enquire after their health and families. Sir Anthony was so enraptured by all the attention he was receiving that Beth thought the wedding banquet would never be served. Her stomach was grumbling rudely by the time the summons came to go in to dinner.
Sir Anthony had disappeared to ‘refresh myself a little, quite overcome, you understand, dear wife’, leaving Beth to make her way into the dining room on the arm of her brother, with whom she had agreed an armed truce, reassured by the fact that he would be returning to his barracks next week, and hopefully leaving her life forever.
Her husband now returned and plopped himself into the vacant seat next to hers. He waited for a time, until the meal was under way and any comment would be covered by the chatting of guests and the clattering of cutlery and crystal, then he leaned over to her.
“You look tired, my dear. Are you well?”
“Yes,” she answered curtly. “I did not sleep well last night.” Which was hardly surprising, under the circumstances.
“Don’t worry, you look perfectly ravishing. No one else would notice, I assure you. I have absolute sympathy, nay, may I say empathy with you. I also hardly closed my eyes yester eve. I am afraid, however, that the minimum we can do for politeness sake is to stay for the meal and at least an hour of the dancing, before we may retire to bed without appearing rude. Do you think you can endure that long?”
Beth had been attacking her salmon with gusto, but at these reassuring words her appetite suddenly vanished, replaced by a dull, leaden dread in the pit of her stomach. She was married now, for good or ill. What the distant future held for her she would face when it came. But the immediate future held the consummation of her marriage to this man who she found physically utterly repulsive. The fact that he had ridden gallantly to her rescue last night did not change the fact that she was dreading the moment of their physical union more than anything. She put down her knife and fork and turned to him.
“Not only can I endure that long, Sir Anthony,” she replied with false brightness, “but I am looking forward to it immensely. One is only married once, you know, and must cherish every moment of the bridal feast.” She gave a brittle smile that did not disperse the terror in her eyes.
He raised one eyebrow and smiled warmly back.
“I am delighted to hear it, my dear Beth, for as you know, I do love excellent and exalted company. And there is so much of it here! I would like nothing better than to converse and dance until the small hours, as it seems you are also inclined to do so. But please, I would ask you, as we are now husband and wife I do not think it necessary that you remind me of my title every time you address me. Anthony will do perfectly well.”
He patted her hand affectionately then turned away from her to his left, engaging himself instead in conversation with Lord Edward, and managing not to bait him or say anything deliberately contentious for the whole of the meal.
Beth was left to ponder whether her rash decision to put off the dread moment for as long as possible had in fact been wise. She realised that she had now condemned herself to several hours of purgatory, with the dreaded bedding ceremony still to be faced at the end of it all, when she would no doubt be almost comatose with fatigue and far less able to cope. Perhaps it would have been better after all to get it over with early, when there would still be plenty of the night hours left to sleep in.
She picked moodily at the rest of the meal, managing to rouse herself with some effort to respond to Isabella’s enraptured comments on the success of the day, and tried to shake off her dread and make the most of the evening ahead. I’m free, she told herself, looking across at her brother who was seated next to Isabella on her right. He was smiling as he ate, and to her surprise she realised that he was quite handsome now that his habitual scowl had been smoothed away by his imminent officer’s commission and return to barracks. Society life suited him no better than it did her, Beth realised. He was a soldier by nature, and she reflected that given a different upbringing they could possibly have been friends, instead of the deadly enemies they were.
She had just started to reflect on the sort of childhood that would result in a Sir Anthony, realising that she knew frighteningly little about the man she had just irrevocably linked her life to, when the signal came for the diners to leave the table and repair to the drawing room for liqueurs, while the ballroom was cleared of tables and prepared for dancing. She felt around under the table with her toes for her shoes, locating one, and managing to push her foot into it. The other appeared to have disappeared, however, and she hunted for it in vain.
“What is wrong, my dear?” her spouse whispered. “Everyone is expecting us to lead the withdrawal to the drawing room. Are you in pain?”
“No,” she hissed. “I slipped my shoes off earlier and cannot find one of them. It must have rolled away somewhere.” She stretched her foot out, sliding down in her seat, to no avail. “Damn it!” she muttered under her breath.
Sir Anthony stood up, and for a moment she thought he was going to insist she accompany him with only one shoe on. Then his napkin fluttered from his knee to the ground and with the assistance of his foot, disappeared under the table. Before the hovering footman could bend down to retrieve it, the baronet had vanished under the table. Beth felt the wayward shoe push against her toes, and slid her foot gratefully into it. A second later a hand circled her foot and her husband’s lips delicately caressed her ankle. She jerked instinctively, and if he had not been holding her she would have kicked him in the face. Before she could draw breath, he had regained his feet and was standing smiling down at her, offering his hand. She accepted it, blushing furiously with a mixture of anger at his presumption and shock that she had been surprised rather than repelled by his action.
He is not being presumptuous, she reminded herself, as she accompanied him from the room to the applause of the guests. I belong to him now. He can do whatever he wants. Which unpleasant thought did not reassure her through the hours of dancing and conversation that followed, during which she learned many things about Europe and the places that one simply must see or avoid at all costs, how to avoid being seduced by the superficial glitter of the Catholic faith when in France or Italy, and which members of the aristocracy at this moment abroad, would be amenable to a visit from the happy couple. But the most important things she learned were that it is not wise to slip uncomfortable shoes off swollen feet, when you will have to put them on again and wear them for several hours afterwards; and that you should never tell a social butterfly that you do not wish to miss a moment of an evening unless you mean it.
By the time her husband trotted over, fresh as a daisy, and suggested it was time they retire from the company, Beth’s feet were throbbing with agony, her face was aching from smiling so much, and her brain had come to the end of its fund of courteous platitudes hours ago. She had now gone beyond tiredness, and while her body craved rest, she knew that she was beyond sleep for now. Nevertheless, accompanied by a few select female attendants, she left the room gratefully, in spite of the dreaded ordeal to follow.
CHAPTER TWO
When the door opened on the bridal chamber, Beth could not stop herself from gasping with shock. Charlotte had gone to town on the room. The bed was huge, a four-poster hung with a heavy royal blue velvet canopy and curtains. The bedding was turned back, and the sheets liberally sprinkled with rose petals. Candles blazed on every conceivable surface, making the room almost as bright as day, and adding a considerable amount of warmth to that given out by the fire which burned in the hearth. There was a table laden with a tray o
f small fancies, and a decanter of wine accompanied by two crystal glasses. Somewhere in the midst of the blazing light a small lamp burned a heavily spiced fragrant oil, which, clashing with the scent of the rose petals, filled the room with an overpowering cloying smell. Beth looked at Charlotte’s eager face and summoned all her acting skills.
“Oh, it’s amazing!” she said truthfully, clapping her hands in a gesture she hoped would denote joy. “You have worked so hard, Charlotte. How can I thank you? How can I thank all of you?” She looked around at her beaming female cousins, carefully avoiding the faces of the other ladies who had accompanied them. If she caught Caroline’s or Sarah’s gaze, she would burst out laughing, she knew it. Instead she concentrated on the rapt faces of the Cunningham sisters. They really were such good people. Beth fervently wished she could truly like them; they deserved it. She felt herself unworthy, knowing how she scorned them secretly for their ignorance and vapidity, and resolved to try harder to show her appreciation of the festivities planned for tomorrow.
They now helped her to undress, chatting excitedly all the time, the married women offering pieces of useful advice.
“It will probably hurt a lot the first time,” Lady Winter said tactlessly. “But it does get a lot better after that, and can even be enjoyable at times,” she added hurriedly.
“The important thing is to find out what he likes, and then to make sure he’s satisfied in bed. If you can do that, you’ll find it easier to persuade him to give you what you want outside the bedchamber. Men are all the same, please them in bed and they’re your slaves,” Sarah advised practically.
The other women looked at her in shock. Sarah was single. A single woman should not know of such matters, and if she did, should certainly not speak of them. But of course, she was only a maid. Lady Winter sniffed disdainfully and moved forward, preparing to give Beth the benefit of her years of legitimately gained sexual experience.
“What do you suggest I do then, Sarah?” said Beth, forestalling the older woman. She needed all the useful advice she could get, and knew Sarah must have slept with many men she found abhorrent. She cursed herself for not asking before, but she had not wanted to think about the dreaded consummation, and now it was upon her she realised that she had no idea what to expect, or what to do.
Sarah smiled brazenly at Lady Winter, who had been about to speak but who now closed her mouth and subsided huffily onto a chair.
“Well, this first night, I would suggest you let him take the lead,” the maid advised thoughtfully. “After all, he will expect you to be innocent, as you are, of course, and he will be highly suspicious if you show any imagination. But try to be responsive, pretend that you enjoy it a little. Comments on his masculine prowess, the size of his member and amazing strength tend to go down well.”
Caroline laughed merrily into the shocked silence that followed this honest comment. She eyed Sarah with interest. Not only was there more to Beth than met the eye, her maid was something different as well. She would certainly be visiting the girl’s beauty emporium as soon as it opened.
The silence lengthened as everyone tried to imagine the effeminate Sir Anthony showing any signs of masculine prowess at all.
“Well,” continued Sarah after a minute, unfazed by the waves of hostility emanating from Lady Winter and the Cunninghams, her mind bent only on helping her mistress. “You must make the best of what you’ve been given. Take your cue from him. It can be a blessing to have a man who is not overly interested in the opposite sex, as long as he can give you a few children to quell any unsavoury rumours, of course.” There was a gasp of horror from the company at the forthrightness of the speaker, and Sarah reddened, remembering suddenly her position. She tended to forget this when alone with Beth, who treated her as a friend rather than a servant.
Beth heartily wished that Sarah had been a close relative, rather than a soon-to-be ex maid who she was unlikely to see much more of. She laughed.
“Right now, I would appreciate that. I hardly slept last night.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of sleep tonight.” Caroline smiled, remembering her own wedding night. “If he isn’t too drunk by now to do anything at all, he’ll be so eager the first time, it’ll probably all be over in seconds.”
“Caroline!” Isabella protested in a shocked voice. “This is Elizabeth’s wedding night. We should be encouraging her, allaying any fears she may have regarding the imminent loss of her virginity.” The sisters looked tragic at the unromantic nature of the conversation.
Caroline was about to say that as far as she was concerned, she was being positive and encouraging, but Beth broke in to soothe her cousins’ feelings.
“I am sure it will be a most memorable night, Isabella. How could it fail to be, when the surroundings are so beautiful and conducive to romance?”
She brushed her hair out carefully in front of the mirror, not seeing the women’s envious looks as the shining white-gold waves tumbled down her back to her hips. Then she made her way to the bed and climbed in, pulling the sheets up to her neck, although the voluminous nightgown she wore covered her from throat to ankle.
She was just in time. Outside could be heard the sound of several masculine voices in various states of intoxication. The door burst open and Sir Anthony was propelled in, accompanied by Lord Edward and three of his cronies. At least Richard wasn’t there, Beth observed gratefully. She had expected the whole company to come upstairs, although the ones who were here made up for their lack of numbers with noise and ribaldry. The women shrank back into the corner, making way for the men.
The men squinted at the blaze of heat and light that greeted them.
“Well, here he is then! I hope you’re ready for him!” said Lord Edward. “At least you’ll be able to see what you’re getting, Anthony.”
“Indeed,” Sir Anthony replied, swaying slightly. “If I don’t set fire to the room in the process.” He took off his coat with a flourish, narrowly missing knocking over several candles.
“Well, of course, you can extinguish some of the lights before you go to bed, Sir Anthony,” Charlotte’s disappointed voice came from the corner. “I just wanted to create the right mood.”
“And you have,” the groom replied. “It is most delightful. And such an interesting scent!” He removed his waistcoat and bent down to take off his shoes, staggering slightly as he did so. His voice was a little thick. Beth’s hopes rose.
“Oh, do you like it?” Charlotte cried. “I mixed the oils myself!”
“It’s making me feel sick,” said her brother brutally.
Good, thought Beth nastily. Maybe you’ll leave quickly.
“It’s wonderful, Charlotte,” she said loudly from the depths of the bed. She glared at Lord Edward, willing him to go away, but he showed no signs of doing so, plopping down on the edge of the bed instead.
“As long as you get a good fire going in the bed, Anthony, that’s all that matters, eh?” he slurred, looking across at the younger man, who was standing by the mirror eyeing himself admiringly. Up to now he had not even glanced her way. Beth realised with relief that Sarah was probably right. It didn’t look as though there would even be a spark in the bed tonight, drunk or not.
Sir Anthony was now in shirt, breeches and stockings, and apparently had no intention of undressing further until the others had vacated the room.
“Come on, man, disrobe yourself. The lady wants to see what she is getting, don’t you, Elizabeth?” Lord Edward roared.
Not particularly, no, Beth thought.
“I am sure Sir Anthony will join me in his own time,” she replied primly. He looked as though he was as attracted to her as she was to him. It seemed that the rumours about his sexual preferences were true. The baronet sat down at the dressing table and leaned forward to peer at his face in the mirror. He reached up to remove the crescent-shaped patch from his cheek.
“What say we revive an old custom?” James, a florid-faced paunchy friend of Lord Edwar
d’s suggested, eyeing Beth lasciviously. “In my great-grandfather’s time the woman used to be displayed before all the company, to make sure that everything was intact, if you get my meaning.” He swayed over the bed, leering. “What do you say to that, sweetheart?” His podgy hand moved crab-like towards the sheet. He was very drunk, Beth realised, seeing his bloodshot eyes. Sir Anthony had stopped halfway through peeling his patch and was preternaturally still, observing the scene behind him through the mirror.
“I’ll tell you what I say to that, sir,” Beth replied icily. “Anyone who tries to revive that jolly custom will certainly find that if he is fully intact now, he will not remain so for long.”
James moved abruptly back from the bed, and Sir Anthony finished removing his patch, placing it on the table.
“You look tired,” Lord Edward said from his position by her side. “If you need a little sleep, take it now. I’m sure it will take your husband a good half hour to remove his paint. You won’t get much sleep after that, eh?” he chortled.
“The sooner you leave, the sooner we can proceed with whatever we intend to do this night,” Sir Anthony said pointedly. The ladies took the hint and moved towards the door.
Lord Edward settled himself more comfortably on the bed.
“Of course, if you should find that you cannot rouse him enough to pleasure you, my room is just down the hall. I’ll be happy to oblige,” he said, eyeing his cousin through a lustful drunken haze. God, she was a desirable little filly! His wig was slightly askew, and his breath smelt unpleasantly of cigars and brandy. He belched softly.
“How considerate of you, cousin.” Beth lips curled upwards in a sketch of a smile. “Allow him half an hour to remove his powder, and I’ll send him directly to you. I’m sure you’ll have more success than I in pleasuring him. And more enjoyment too, I don’t doubt.”
The Mask Revealed (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 2) Page 2