Christmas with His Wallflower Wife

by Janice Preston

  ‘Of course I didn’t regret it, my sweet Janey. I was taken aback—I have never seen you wear yellow before, but I was not merely flattering you when I said it suits you very well. You look lovely and you could not have chosen better for such a pleasant day.’

  He tipped up her chin, then, and kissed her. She returned his kiss, but pulled away when he began to deepen it.

  ‘Alex!’ She laughed, batting his hand away. ‘It is broad daylight! What if someone should see us?’

  ‘What if they should? Why should I not kiss my own wife whenever I choose?’

  His teasing soothed her and her worries seemed far away.

  ‘You should keep your eyes on the road,’ she said, mock severely. ‘What if we should have an accident?’

  ‘My horses are too fly to collide with anything or to run us into a ditch.’ But Alex did turn his attention back to his driving, taking the reins in one hand as he slipped his arm around Jane and pulled her in close. She relaxed against him, laying her head on his shoulder, contentment flowing through her as the steady beat of the horses’ hooves lulled her.

  * * *

  Alex had worked hard to hide the increasing strain he was under, but it was obvious Jane had noticed something was wrong. She knew him too well—she had always been an observant soul and he had always been hopeless at concealing his moods—his entire family could attest to that—no matter how adept he was at concealing the cause of those moods.

  But how could he admit Pikeford’s attack was leading to increasingly frequent visions that appeared to be linked to his mother’s death, even though he had no conscious memory of finding her body? He knew Jane—she would blame herself for being the cause, even though it was not her fault.

  It was taking its toll on him. He couldn’t even decide if they were real memories, or whether his imagination was resurrecting those awful visions out of his nightmares. And, if the latter, did it mean he was losing his mind? The very thought terrified him—in his youth he had once visited Bethlem Hospital with a group of friends, before it moved to its current location at St George’s Fields in Southwark. He shuddered at the memory.

  What if I am going mad?

  He swallowed down that fear and resolutely directed his attention to the road ahead. Jane’s head grew heavy on his shoulder, her face shielded by the brim of her bonnet, peacefully slumbering as the curricle rumbled over the stony track. That yellow gown had taken him by surprise. For a split second, when he first saw her, he had felt nothing but terror and he’d failed miserably to hide his reaction. It was odd. Yellow had never affected him before—he could only think that flash of fear and dread was linked to the yellow gown in his visions.

  They drove over a humpback bridge and Alex urged the horses into a trot as they approached the long, slow pull up the lane towards home. Jane stirred.

  ‘Are we nearly home?’ Her voice sounded thick. Sleepy.

  ‘Not far now, Janey. Close your eyes again, if you like.’

  Jane pushed herself upright and straightened her bonnet. ‘I was not asleep.’

  Alex caught her eye and grinned. An answering smile slowly stretched her lips, but she stuck her nose in the air before turning to watch teams of men and plough horses working in an adjacent field until it was masked from view by a copse.

  A scream suddenly rent the air and a vivid image hit Alex with the force of a physical blow, followed by a feeling of such powerlessness, such hopelessness, such panic...a pair of boots...her yellow gown and matching slippers...the colour of daffodils...the scent of roses...the rough wood against his cheek...

  His gorge rose to crowd his throat as his mind spun remorselessly in a black, choking vortex of terror and chills racked his body. The sound of ripping cloth... What...no...please—a woman’s voice...pleading. The vision continued—those boots and the slippers, moving...to and fro...as though in a dance. Two figures, sinking towards the floor...a cry, choked off...his heart beating so hard it might burst...the grunts...

  A new image began to form.

  ‘Alex?’ It seemed to come from far away, and he focused on that voice...safety...reassurance...hope... He clambered out of the past, back to the present, away from that hazy image of his father’s face.

  People ran when they heard my screams. They told me. And Father came, too... That’s all that means. Isn’t it?

  ‘Alex?’ Jane’s hand was on his, her voice urgent. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  He forced open eyes that had screwed shut. ‘The...’ His voice croaked. He cleared his throat. Tried again. ‘That scream...’

  ‘Scream? You mean the children? They’re just playing.’

  Jane pointed back along the lane, towards the copse, now fifty yards behind them. Alex, his vision clearing, saw the children—no doubt belonging to the ploughmen—darting in and out of the trees.

  It was all normal. Thoroughly normal.

  The horses had halted and Jane now held the reins. Alex rubbed his forehead. He had no memory of her taking over.

  ‘The horses took fright,’ she said. ‘I had to stop them.’

  He stared at her, trying to make sense of it all.

  ‘What happened, Alex?’ She made no attempt to start the horses. ‘One minute we were bowling along quite happily, then you jerked the reins hard and went quite rigid and pale. It was like...you weren’t there. I-It was spooky. It frightened me, never mind the horses.’

  ‘I don’t know what happened.’ He felt as he did when he emerged from a nightmare, as though his brain were stuffed with wool. ‘I really don’t know.’

  She offered the reins and he shook his head. ‘You drive.’

  They drove home in silence, Alex conscious of the many concerned glances Jane sent his way. By the time they arrived, his clenched jaw ached. He’d spent his entire life suffering not only the sympathy and pity of his family, but also their misguided efforts to snap him out of his moods. He was damned if he wanted to undergo the same treatment from his wife—he could only pray she would soon forget about it and he would suffer no further lapses in front of her. All he wanted now was to get away...to be alone so he could think about what had happened.

  * * *

  Jane didn’t mention the incident again, lulling him into believing she would let it pass. He should have known better. She waited until after their evening meal, until they had settled in the drawing room by the fire crackling in the huge stone fireplace for, even though the days were warm, the nights were drawing in. Jane settled on the sofa, reached for her sewing box and removed her lucet, with which she was making silk cords for the reticules she’d made. Alex quashed his guilt that he still hadn’t told her they wouldn’t be going to the Abbey at Christmas. She wouldn’t be pleased after she had lavished so much care and attention on gifts for the family, but they could at least be sent on. He promised himself he would tell her soon.

  ‘Shall I continue to read to you, while you work?’

  Alex picked up Waverley. They were already halfway through the story of the Jacobite rebellion of 1745 and he enjoyed the cosy companionship and even the domesticity of reading aloud while Jane sewed. His younger self would have stared to see how he had changed.

  ‘I would rather you didn’t.’ Jane didn’t look at him, her head bent over her work. ‘Not tonight, if you don’t mind. I would rather talk.’

  Hell and damnation!

  He wasn’t always the most perceptive of men, but he couldn’t miss her resolve. Jane lifted her head and his teeth clenched.

  ‘Very well. How long will it be until the kittens are fully weaned, do you suppose?’

  Jane’s eyes remained steady on his. ‘Not long now, but it is not that I wish to talk about.’

  Alex huffed a laugh. ‘You sound far too serious for this time of night, Janey.’ He sat next to her and trailed one finger down her cheek to her neck, and around her neckline. ‘Let’s
go to bed early, sweetheart.’ He nipped her earlobe, then sucked at it.

  He thought his distraction had worked. Jane moved her head to capture his lips and kissed him, moving her full lips over his, firing his blood. But she took his face between her palms and eased her mouth from his long before he was ready to end their kiss.

  ‘Alex...you do know how much I care for you, don’t you?’

  He pulled back, frowning. ‘Of course I know, Janey. As I care for you.’

  ‘Do you? Really?’ She shook her head. ‘How can you care for someone if you do not trust them?’

  He straightened, staring at her. ‘I do trust you!’

  ‘I thought you did. But now...’ She paused, chewing her lip, and his heart squeezed, knowing he was the cause of her worry. ‘You’re hiding something, Alex. What happened to you this afternoon? Are you ill? Ought you to see a physician?’

  ‘I’m not ill and I don’t need a physician.’

  ‘But...what happened? You mentioned the scream...did it remind you of what happened with Pikeford?’

  He’d thought to protect her by not mentioning that bastard, but it seemed she’d reached that conclusion anyway.

  ‘I think of him sometimes, you know.’

  Alex stiffened. ‘Who?’

  ‘Pikeford. About that day.’

  ‘You’ve never said.’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you. But that makes me as bad as you—hiding the truth to protect you.’

  ‘When do you think about him? When we make love?’ He loathed the very thought.

  ‘No!’ She caressed his hand. ‘You have helped me so much, Alex. I never think of him at those times. But it has affected me—I went for a walk in the woods and I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t rid myself of the conviction someone was following me.’

  ‘Janey! I had no idea.’

  Guilt and shame swirled through him. What kind of man didn’t notice his wife’s distress?

  ‘And I’ve had flashes of memory of what happened. For a few seconds it is as though it is actually happening again. I can’t breathe and I can’t move, and the fear...it wells up and, even though I know it’s not real, it still feels real.’

  She swallowed audibly and he squeezed her hand, even as his heart thudded against his ribs. That sounded exactly how he reacted to those accursed visions.

  ‘I wish you had told me sooner, Janey. You must have known I would want to help.’

  She stared at him, her eyes serious. ‘As I want to help you.’

  He could see her willing him to confide in her. But he couldn’t. He straightened, holding her hands as he gazed into her eyes.

  ‘You must tell me if it happens to you again, Janey. I will help you to get over it, I promise you.’

  She didn’t try to hide her frustration.

  ‘But... Alex...what about today? I hate any reminder of Pikeford, but that scream didn’t affect me. Why would it have that effect on you?’

  An image exploded into his head—his mother...the shadowy figure of a man...a struggle. He couldn’t tell her! Hell, he didn’t know for sure what he was ‘seeing’ in those visions. Were any of them true? Had he actually witnessed—?

  He swiped that question aside and leapt to his feet, fear he was going mad scorching through him.

  ‘Alex?’ Jane stood, grabbing his hand, stopping him from leaving. ‘What is it? Please tell me.’

  ‘It’s nothing. You’re imagining it. I have the headache so I shall sleep in my own room tonight.’

  She didn’t release him. ‘No. Please do not. Come to bed with me... I promise I shan’t plague you with any more questions.’ She pressed her lips to his hand. ‘But I do wish you would trust me enough to talk to me.’

  Dear God! How he wished he could confide in her. But how could he when he didn’t even know if they were real memories or a fiction conjured up by years of nightmares? And what if he was losing his grasp of what was real and what was inside his head? What then? What would the future hold?

  He quashed his fears and forced a smile.

  ‘There is nothing to tell, Honeybee. Nothing at all. Come to bed.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Jane was relieved when Alex’s funny turn, as she came to think of it, didn’t recur, but something was clearly bothering him although he tried to hide it. It couldn’t be money...the ledgers confirmed their finances were healthy. She was almost certain it wasn’t her... Alex would never manage to hide it if he truly regretted their marriage. She’d be left in no doubt if she was at fault.

  She told herself it was her imagination...she was being over-sensitive...but as the days got shorter and the nights closed in those doubts simply would not go away and, rather than reassure her, Alex’s lovemaking slowly but surely started to echo everything that was going wrong in their marriage. One morning as they lay together in a post-coital glow, Jane could no longer deny her frustration. Physically, she was fully satisfied. Alex was everything she could wish for. But emotionally... She frowned as she pondered the source of her disquiet. She couldn’t deny the suspicion that, emotionally—in bed as well as out of it—he was holding back. Those barriers behind which he had always protected himself—the ones she believed were crumbling—were firmly back in place.

  The mattress dipped as Alex rolled over to face her. He traced between her brows with his forefinger. ‘Why the frown, Janey?’

  But how could she explain when she barely understood it herself? All she could do was to keep proving he could trust her and hope he would eventually confide in her. His lovemaking was so controlled, reminding her of a rider who put his horse at a hedge, but spent the approach ensuring every aid was perfection. She longed for Alex to release his control and ‘throw his heart over’.

  She lied. ‘I was thinking your nightmares have improved.’

  ‘That’s good, though. Isn’t it?’

  It was his turn to frown now, staring unseeingly across the room as Jane laid her hand against his whisker-rough cheek.

  ‘Have you had any more episodes such as that day we went to High Wycombe?’

  She’d not broached the subject since and she hadn’t seen anything, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t happened and she knew Alex would never voluntarily admit it to her.

  ‘Why should the subject of my nightmares cause you to think about that?’ His amber eyes turned wary. ‘The two are unconnected.’

  She cuddled into him, her cheek to his chest. ‘I wasn’t sure they were unconnected.’

  She remained convinced he was hiding his troubles to protect her. If only he would talk to her about his mother. About the day he found her body. It couldn’t be good for him to keep those memories inside.

  ‘I think that child’s scream reminded you of Pikeford’s attack and, because it happened in the same place as your mother—’

  He tipped up her face and kissed her, his lips moving over hers with practised skill, and her thoughts scattered as she responded to the coaxing caress of his tongue. The kiss ended and Alex rolled from the bed in one smooth movement.

  ‘Come on, lazybones. There’s work to be done.’

  He tugged the covers from her body and picked her up, kissing her again before allowing her body to slide down his until her feet touched the floor. The cool caress of the morning air shook her thoughts back to their conversation...and his blatant attempt to distract her.

  ‘Wait!’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t think about that day, Janey. Pikeford isn’t worthy of a single second of your time.’

  ‘I know. But...your nightmares...they got worse after—’

  ‘And now they are improving. I’m always the same when I go back to the Abbey...the nightmares were not linked to Pikeford’s attack and there’s no reason whatsoever why a random scream should resurrect anything.’

  Was he trying to convince himself, or h
er?

  ‘I hope that does not mean we can never go to the Abbey, especially as I’ve already accepted your stepmother’s invitation to spend Christmas there.’

  She’d hoped to diffuse the tension shimmering between them, but Alex refused to meet her eyes as he shrugged into his banyan.

  ‘I remember you saying so.’

  Jane frowned. That seemed somewhat non-committal, but she was reluctant to pursue the subject. There were enough difficulties already in their relationship without cultivating more.

  * * *

  After a few days of heavy rain when they couldn’t continue Pearl’s education, they took advantage of a dry morning to work together on schooling her.

  ‘She’s ready for you to ride out,’ Alex said as they strolled back to the house together. ‘What do you say to taking her out early tomorrow? We can ride around the fields and get her used to all the sights and sounds.’

  ‘I say that sounds perfect.’ Jane couldn’t wait for Pearl’s education to be complete. ‘And you haven’t forgotten I am to visit Mrs Phillips again today, have you?’

  Mrs Phillips was several years Jane’s senior, but they had much in common, and Jane had promised her support for the vicar’s various charitable endeavours on behalf of the poor of the district.

  ‘I hadn’t forgotten. Would you like me to drive you to the village or are you comfortable driving yourself?’

  ‘I can drive myself.’ Although still wary of walking alone in the countryside she had no fear of driving. She looked forward to the freedom of riding out alone, too, once Pearl was ready. ‘There’s no need to waste your time and I know you won’t miss the neighbourly gossip.’ The very idea of Alex sitting making polite small talk with any of their neighbours, let alone a vicar’s wife, was laughable. ‘I’ve asked Lilley to have the pony and trap ready at two.’

  * * *