by Cameron May
She heard Lance laugh softly. “Yes, it might be, but it’s not going to happen, Winnie.”
“But you just said…”
He stood up, brushing crumbs onto the floor. “There is going to be no divorce, Winnie. I have decided. It might take a very long time, and I’m not going to wither away in the interim. Besides, don’t imagine you could so easily stroll into a courtroom and divulge all the salacious details for the delectation of legal men and assembled onlookers. And, something else for your information, on one of those occasions when I was wandering the hallways, I wasn’t asleep, but you were so sweet and generous I allowed you to lead me, eventually finding myself in bed and so aroused I couldn’t help myself, and I didn’t exactly force myself on you. It was sheer bliss, and I wish for a great deal more of the same.”
“But, but,” Winnie sputtered, “what am I to do, Lance? What about the sour feeling in my stomach?” She stopped, the bright blue eyes narrowing. “What did you say? On one occasion you weren’t sleepwalking?” She stood abruptly, clearly agitated. “Why didn’t you say something? You played a little trick on me, didn’t you? Oh, how could you?”
“Honestly, it wasn’t my finest hour, Winnie, but I know what I wish, and that is, for you to get over the past, Winnie, forget all the hurts and the rest.” He stood and stepped to her before she had a chance to put distance between them. “I’m your husband, and I want to be your husband, that’s all. Now, come on, let’s go to bed.”
“But, but…oh, Lance, it can’t be as simple as that.”
“I disagree. It can and will be. Do you know why?” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into the blue orbs that stared unbelieving at him. “I love you, little fool, and, if you don’t love me now, though I think you might if you searched your heart, the simple truth of it, you will come to love me. I’ll make sure of it. Your sweet, generous nature, well, for the most part. You do sometimes have a bit of a sharp tongue, you know. Your nature won’t allow you to do otherwise than to love me, because I shall become the most loving husband that ever there was, and you will come to see the wisdom of this decision. It was simply meant to be, Winnie, was always our fate. Now, come along.” Winnie backed away from him, shrugging away from his hands. Lance reached out and took her wrist and brought her to him.
“But, it’s not what I want.”
“Yes, it is. You just don’t know it yet.” He smiled. “Just think of the beautiful children we’ll have. Ah, Winnie, you’ll make such a good mother.”
“But I can’t do this, Lance. What shall I think of it, what you’re doing?”
“Think whatever you will, Winnie, but all I want, all I ask of you, is for you to love me, just as I love you,” Lance said, picking her up as easily as if she were a child. Winnie pushed against his broad, hard chest weakly with no effect. His face was hard and implacable as he wound his way from the kitchen past the butler’s pantry, the dining room, the rest of the house and up the stairs. Winnie squirmed in his strong arms, but the pathetic movements changed nothing. In his bedroom, he put her on the floor, holding her gaze with his stern eyes. Suddenly, he reached for her, cupping her chin and cheeks with hands that still bore the signs of real, physical labor, her hands pulling against his, unable to pull them away. Resolutely, he bent his head, and as his mouth touched hers, she whimpered, and her hands stilled before moving to his forearms to steady herself. He kissed her again and again. Winnie tried to protest, but her voice was muted, lost in the headiness of the constant barrage of Lance’s light kisses that deepened before drawing her against the hardened length of him, the throb of him sending tremors in every direction from her middle throughout. Winnie felt no strength in her and gave up, becoming unresisting and yielding. He felt the change and rained kiss after kiss on her, slowly and thoroughly.
Passively, Winnie allowed him to undress her before quickly doffing his own clothes. He lifted her onto the bed and joined her, bringing his naked warm chest against her cooler breasts, closing his eyes at the feeling. Suddenly he pulled away to begin stroking her breasts gently, then touching his mouth to a taut nipple and suckling it carefully. Winnie gasped, drowning with wonder at the sensations rising and falling inside her. Unable to speak, she swallowed helplessly. “How long I’ve waited for this moment, when both of us were in our right minds,” Lance said, his voice raw and uneven. What had he ever seen in her frivolous sister years ago? Now, he could barely recall her name. Oh, yes, it was Miranda, he told himself, promptly forgetting it again, consigning it to the past to concentrate on the present. Lance passed his hand over Winnie’s bare stomach, felt it quiver and turned her to him, caressing her with hands and mouth, touching her throat with his lips, her shoulders, nibbling her earlobe, molding her firm breasts in his hands and moving himself against her, bringing all her nerve endings to the surface where they were stoked until she could no long bear holding back and embraced him as he had her. He rose above and entered her then, and, within seconds she sobbed for release and felt it come, the deep pulses begin, taking over her being. Lance stroked the valley of hot, moist tissues until he came at last with a cry of completion. He lay for a minute on top to rest, then slipped to her side, holding her close against him until he was overcome with sleep and soon snoring softly.
Winnie’s heart was still beating fast and erratically. Sleep seemed far distant, her mind attempting to sort out what had just happened. How she wished Lance were awake to talk to her, argue with her, or to explain this terrible and profound joy she felt in his arms. It was the closest to magic she’d ever found. Alas, conversation would have to wait until morning. Slowly, without realizing, her lids heavy, sleep stole away her resolve to stay awake.
Sometime in the early morning, Lance woke on one side of the bed with Winnie on the other. He slipped from bed, turned and filled his eyes with the sight of his beautiful Winnie. One white shoulder was above the covers, her mouth swollen from his kisses, face placid in sleep, the brown hair tossed and wild about her head and shoulders. Not for the last time he wished he could paint her, to have this one moment preserved after the ecstasy of the previous night. He sighed. He would just have to trust to memory. Quickly he dressed and went downstairs where Sarah was at the table almost drowsing.
“Oh,” she said, rising quickly and standing. “I’m sorry, your lordship, but I was expecting milady.” Sarah smiled. “She’s such an early riser.” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Should I attend her, I wonder?”
Lance shook his head. “I think not. For once, she might be pleased to sleep in. I’m sure she’ll join you when rested.”
“Aye. She does work very hard, doesn’t she?”
Both of their heads turned at the sound of the kitchen door opening on Frances, closely followed by Jem bringing in a basket of apples.
“Good morrow, Missus Frances,” Lance said, grinning. His eyes sought out Jem’s. “And how are you today, Jem, my boy?”
“Well, very well, thank you,” Jem replied, the smile widening on his mouth.
“We came to start breakfast, didn’t we, Jem? Wasn’t sure the new maid was a cook.”
“I can, but not as well as I’d like,” Sarah said, blushing at the admission. “I’ll be glad to fetch or do whatever you ask, Missus Frances.”
“And I wouldn’t turn down the help,” Frances said, turning to Lance. “It’s a blessing to be out of the house for a spell. Little Freddie’s just been fed and is sleepin’ tight.”
“Where is Barnaby?”
“He’s stayin close to home, to check on Freddie and work about on the garden. He’ll be comin’ down later, he says.”
“I’m going to town, likely be gone most of the day. Is there anything you’d be needing? It would be nice to have a supper waiting on me, though I could just as easily pick up pies, if you’d rather. Maybe you’d like to come along, Jem?” The boy turned to look at Frances, who nodded and smiled indulgently.
“Jem knows what we lack, don’t you, boy?” Frances chuckled. “Of cours
e, you may go, Jem. We haven’t been to town for a good long time. I will work ahead on the meals, if you’ll let me know how long you’ll be stayin’.”
“I’m not sure. It depends on what Winnie wants. It’s been very busy at the other house. She might prefer the quieter pace here for a time.” Frances nodded, already heading for the stove to stir the embers and begin washing and cooking.
“Since milady is still abed, I will help, Missus Frances. I used to be a scullery maid,” Sarah said.
Winnie woke, quickly realizing where she was and what had happened. The sheet fell past bare breasts, breasts that had been kissed, nuzzled, and stroked to aching sensitivity. Hastily, Winnie grabbed the covering and moaned. Life would never be quite the same again. The prospect was a little frightening. What ought she to do?
Winnie sighed. Well, for certain she couldn’t stay in bed. She looked around and found the simple draperies had been closed against morning light coming into the room. Climbing out of the warmth and comfort, her bare feet touched the floor. Quickly she washed and dressed, holding her head high as she descended the stairs, wondering what confronting Lance would be like. Peeking around corners, Winnie finally came to the kitchen where she heard only the conversation of women. A relieved breath issued from her. Sarah was on her feet at once, and the chattering stopped. “Oh, milady, I didn’t hear you rising. And you’re all dressed. May I wait on you at table?”
“No, thank you. I’ll have breakfast in the kitchen.” Frances turned from the stove where she was taking fresh fruit pies from the oven, a large piece of beef for stew and meat pies browning in the pan on the stovetop. Sarah raised her eyebrows. “It was our custom, when my husband was away in the war and there were only the three of us, with Jem making the fourth. Where is everyone?”
“Your husband has gone to town, taking Jem along. If I’m not mistaken, that’s Barnaby at the door.”
Barnaby had brought Freddie, laying him on a pallet in a corner of the kitchen, all bundled, after a time making himself known by fussing. Winnie made a soothing sound and went to pick him up. “He’s alright,” Frances said. “I don’t mind if he makes a little noise. Barnaby and Jem have spoiled him.” She chuckled. “I, too, I must admit.”
“Oh, how precious he is,” Winnie cooed, coaxing a little smile from the baby. “He’s grown, hasn’t he?”
“Aye, he has.” Frances turned from the stove with a fruit pie and coffee, heavily laced with milk and a good helping of sugar, just the way Winnie liked it. Carefully, Winnie put down little Freddie and came around the table to sit.
“Thank you, Missus Frances,” Winnie said. “I have missed your cooking.” She looked at Sarah. “I was taught to cook by this good lady.”
“You cook, Milady?” Sarah’s gray eyes were wide and her mouth open.
“Yes, when I landed here, there was no cook. The only one about was Barnaby, and he was sore disappointed that I had not the skill.” She smiled at the memory as she bit into her pie. Chewing, she went on. “His own talents at that art were unfortunately lacking, depressing for the both of us.” She smiled at Barnaby who was bringing in more of the new, early summer apples, small but tart, just right for the pies Frances would make. As Frances was feeding little Freddie again, Sarah went to take the fruit from Barnaby and place it on the table.
“Aye, I remember it well,” Barnaby said with a smile. “Winnie made up fer the lack in other ways, and then Frances came and taught her to cook.”
“We all worked very hard and were soundly rewarded,” Winnie said, “those first years while Lance was in the war.”
“Not so long ago, it seems. But, Winnie, I haven’t heard much o’ the new place, and ye’ll tell us about it, won’t ye?” Barnaby asked, curious. Her mouth full, Winnie nodded.
Lance was smiling mindlessly, listening to Jem’s prattle in the carriage. The boy was thrilled to be riding inside the carriage, his first time. “So, Jem, what do you think ought to be in your future?” Lance asked. “School?”
“Oh, no, not that. The town boys put that idea, if I’d had it, which I didn’t, straight out of my head. They were not the best sort, and that’s what I’d like to be, the best sort,” the boy said earnestly, his eyes gazing guilelessly into Lance’s. “I’d most like to be like Barnaby.”
Lance nodded. “Yes, he is of the best sort, isn’t he? I’ve known him a long time, and his example, though I didn’t take it when I was about your age and should have, is one I wish more people could know. ‘Twould be a better world, I think.” He smiled. “I had to learn the hard way, like most of the men I soldiered with. I believe it was my punishment for being so hard-headed as a youth.” He nodded to himself, the bit of bitter observation clear to him now. But it had worked out in the end, at least he hoped so, wondering how Winnie was faring. “So, what do you see yourself doing when you’re grown, Jem? Perhaps an apprenticeship would be the thing. What interests you?”
“Anything,” Jem shrugged. “Everything, I ‘spose. I like it all, ‘cepting when I must work outside in the drear weather.”
“Yes, none of us like that. And, may I ask, how are things going with you and Barnaby and Missus Frances?”
“It’s like I fell into a soft berth.” He looked up at an interested Lance. “Like I have a family now, a real one. I appreciate everything Milady has done, and it’s been a lot, giving me clothes and shoes, feedin’ me, teaching me to read and write, better I ‘spect than a real teacher. It’s like, I dunno, I like her better than anyone I know, but she’s far above me, you know?”
“She wouldn’t say so.” Jem shrugged. “Well, you think about what we talked of, and if you change your mind about school, or if you want an apprenticeship, let me know. I’ve more means than I ever dreamt of having. If you’d like to come to us, we would welcome you.”
“Aye, I know it, but I only just settled in with Barnaby and the missus, and little Freddie. It seems right where I am now.” Lance chuckled, and Jem went on about how he now had a room of his own in the floor above, though that space would someday have to be shared with Freddie. After a while, Lance found himself nodding automatically, but thinking of Winnie and the night before. He sensed the struggle in her, but as time wore on, she accepted his caresses. Was it only resignation? Or was it, as he hoped, something more?
“I’ll not be with you all the time in town, Jem. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll give you money of your own to spend for whatever you like.” He smiled at the eager face Jem turned back to him. “And I happen to know Winnie has been putting aside a salary just for you when you are ready for it, so that whatever you decide, I’m sure your future will be alright. You’ve proved yourself a capable lad already.” Lance could swear the boy’s chest puffed out and he sat up a little straighter. Lance reached in his pocket and came out with a good amount of coin, and he watched Jem’s eyes expand. “The coins are not large and won’t draw attention. Just be careful with them, Jem. I don’t have to tell you there must be no showing off.” Jem nodded again quickly as the coins fell clinking into his outstretched hands.
“I’ll remember. And thank you,” Jem said solemnly, his eyes sober and dark. Lance grinned, reached across and tousled the boy’s hair lightly. Lance couldn’t remember a moment like this. When he was small, there was always enough of everything. The gratitude from Jem was genuine, and the last time Lance had that feeling was on coming to his small estate after the war to find a real home, most of it due to Winnie with Barnaby’s help, and Frances’, too.
Winnie glanced out of the window to the lane, and no carriage was coming. They’d already had supper, and it was growing dark. Not for the first time, Sarah watched her mistress. She’d been strange all day. Sarah looked to Missus Frances, a question on her face. The lady shrugged. Frances didn’t know what was wrong with Winnie, either. Once the recitation of the new situation was done, with Winnie breathless from the telling, she’d fallen silent. Frances only supposed that for once, Winnie had run out of words, but it was more than
that. Winnie wandered about the house deep in thought, her mind plagued with questions: why had she laid out his razor, set out hot water, helped so completely at Treehill Manor, and what about the other numberless things she’d done since he’d come home? Why do them if she didn’t care about Lance? Once when he wasn’t aware of her watching, she’d seen him after he’d returned from the war. It struck her how lost he appeared, how uncertain. She’d been like that once starting over, too, on returning to Greenwood from her own family. But she had deliberately hardened her heart because of the way they started out. In the end, it hadn’t helped. Little by little, almost against her will, she came to appreciate the man he’d become.
Twice, Sarah broke into Winnie’s quiet to ask if there might be something she could do for milady. Winnie shook her head and tread through the house several times more. When Sarah yawned, Winnie urged her to bed.
“No, wait, I’ve one last task for you, Sarah. I know it’s late, but I wouldn’t mind a full bath. I’ll have it in the kitchen so you’ve no need to traipse upstairs with the water. There are already pots of water heating on the stove. It’s a custom of ours, to have warm water ready to soak dishes and to wash in the morning. And my hair, too, please.”
While milady made another trip, this one upstairs, Sarah added fuel to the stove and put on more pans of water. When Winnie returned, she wore only a robe and took it off, knelt before the tub of water, bending forward for Sarah to wash her hair. Sarah had never known the young woman to be so silent. “Is anything wrong, milady?”
“No, Sarah, I’ve just been in deep thought, straightening out my mind about something.”
“The drapes in the bedroom at home, milady? I know you were keen to change them out.”
“Those and many other needs. The house of Treehill is sturdy and fine, but there must be one hundred and one things that ought to be changed there.” Winnie didn’t elaborate about what those might be, instead falling silent again until the end of the bath. “I’d like you to put my hair up, Sarah, and you may make it as elaborate as you like.”