“May I ask you a question… Helena?” I hesitate over her name, but conclude to do as she has asked of me.
She stills, her back straightening with obvious curiosity. “Of course, my dear,” she replies. “We ladies need to stick together.”
“I have heard talk of your parties, and how wild they have been?” I present my case deliberately, watching her expression as she hears my question.
She smiles, as though recalling some salacious detail of the past. “What have you heard?” she asks congenially. “Many of my parties have become legend in these parts. I must confess, Lydia, I am not known for my modesty or decorum!”
I have to smile at her honesty; never before have I met a woman so proud of her improper reputation! “I have heard stories of the wanton behaviour which has thrived in them?” I probe, tempering my language, yet offering just enough to pique her interest.
“Is that what Thomas has told you?” she laughs, and I inhale, fighting the streak of envy which surfaces as she refers to my husband with such obvious tenderness. “Lydia—yes—the balls which William and I have thrown here have been nothing short of scandalous, my dear! Of course, nobody in society should speak of such things, and yet I know that they do; I hear the tongues wagging, and I feel the weight of the stares when we venture from Cranningford.”
I take another drink, gulping down rather too much of the fine liquid as I listen to her admissions. “Does it not trouble you?” I ask, genuinely interested in her response. “After all, a lady’s reputation is everything in England?”
She smiles again, and though genuine enough, it suddenly demonstrates her years of experience. She always appears so youthful, and yet I suppose Helena must be at least ten years my senior. “It did once, perhaps…” she concedes, turning her gaze into the flames. “But age has taught me that I need only please two people in life, Lydia. Can you guess who those people might be?”
I straighten in my own seat, manoeuvring my sore bottom against the velvet upholstery. “God, and the king?” I answer, genuinely uncertain about to whom she refers.
Her abrupt laugh indicates that I have chosen incorrectly. “Goodness, no, my dear!” she exclaims, looking back to me with glee. “I need only please my husband, and if he is content, then myself.”
I am surprised at her statement, but also intrigued. I have never really considered life this way before, but since arriving at Markham Hall only two months ago, just about everything about my perspective has changed.
“I have shocked you,” she says, more as a statement of fact than a question.
“No,” I answer quickly as I drain my glass. “No, I think I do understand…”
She tilts her head at me, as though she is contemplating something. “May I be honest with you, Lydia?” she asks eventually.
“Please do, Helena,” I answer, fiddling with the exquisite cut glass in my hands.
“When I first met you I knew instinctively that Thomas would want to have you. You are everything he would desire; you are young, and beautiful of course, but more than that you are astute, and no doubt challenging at times?”
I shift in my place again, a little overwrought with her analysis of both Thomas and me.
“Furthermore,” she continues, “you have your father’s estate, and your husband will be able to claim it as his own. You were quite the catch.” She pauses, the weight of her gaze falling upon me once again. I feel those blue eyes surveying my form under the silver gown, and as I catch her eye I am sure I see something akin to desire. “You must allow me to confess that when we first met I did not share Thomas’ positive appraisal of you, and when I heard of your match, I believed it to be hasty and unwise…”
I tense at her critique, uncertain where this line of analysis is taking us. “And now?” I ask, raising my head to look at her profile.
Her face softens reflexively. “And now I see that I was wrong. Thomas is so happy—we can all see that. And you, Lydia…” She hesitates, finishing her wine and devouring me with her crystal blue eyes. “You are quite fascinating.”
“Am I?” I say, raising my right brow at her statement the way my husband does when I am in trouble. All of a sudden I am empowered by the interesting dynamic between us. Lady Helena, it seems, could become more than just a confidant to me; she could become an advocate. Other than my interactions with Lucy, who—as my maid—may only have limited access to my thoughts and opinions, I have been without a friend. The thought that Helena could really become that person bolsters me.
She rises from her seat. My gaze follows her long legs as she strides to where the decanter of wine sits waiting. She collects it from the dresser, stalking toward me with clear intent.
“Oh, you most certainly are…” she says, a wicked smile on her face. “Let me refill your empty glass.”
“I probably should not,” I begin, although she has already begun to pour the burgundy liquid from the flask into my glass.
“Nonsense,” she says. “Thomas should not mind. You are an adult now, his wife—still on bridal tour, and about to celebrate his own birthday!”
I nod, watching her fill her own glass before resting the decanter by the fireplace and taking a seat on the chaise immediately to my left. We are now little more than a few feet apart.
“In times gone by, Lydia,” she says, “I should have liked to have you myself.”
Her words make me pause. Even though my instincts had suspected such a thing was on her mind, I have never until this moment heard a lady say so. I feel my face colour as I reply. “I did not know such things transpired between ladies?”
My answer is feeble, and I expect a mocking response, so it is with some surprise that I see a soft smile light her lips. “Well, of course you did not,” she replies. “It is not something they encourage young ladies to think on. Our pursuit is, as you know, the quest for a suitable husband, and indeed I am all in favour of this. But I also believe that there are other desires to sate…”
I take a deep breath, and say nothing for a moment.
“Goodness, has my candour offended you, Lydia?” she asks, her voice etched with genuine concern.
“No, no!” I assure her. “I am merely thinking on what you have said, and it reminded me of something. The last time I was here you told me that Thomas would seek to govern me, do you recall?”
She sips at her wine, and nods as she answers. “I do, and I presume that he has done so?”
My face is burning at her directness, and yet there is something altogether liberating about the whole conversation. “Yes,” I reply, finding the strength to meet her potent gaze.
“And you enjoy it also? To yield and be soundly spanked as he deems appropriate?”
I assess her as she speaks, seeing her sparkling eyes and her fine, pale skin. This conversation, I realise, is singly the most peculiar I have ever experienced, and yet it is somehow compelling to meet a lady so unlike the usual ones with whom I have been acquainted. I nod at her question, barely believing my openness. “Yes, I do seem to,” I answer, “although the fact still bemuses me at times.”
She laughs, a soft sound which bounces over the flames. “We must permit them to have their way in some things,” she says, waving her free hand in the air as she speaks. “Men like William and Thomas need to possess all that they own, my dear, and that includes us, their wives. It does not mean he will love you less for it. On the contrary, he will love you all the more. You will become the anchor to which he can never sail from, and he will adore you, but you must always keep your faith in him.”
I nod. “I think I understand,” I say. “Thomas has introduced me to so many new things. Things which I would have considered debauched and improper, and yet now…” I pause, stumbling over my most frank confession.
“Now you have found untold pleasure in them?” she probes, finishing my statement for me.
I flush, and yet cannot suppress my smile as I answer. “Yes,” I say, my voice
raspy at the realisation. “Yes, I have…”
Her smile widens. “How fabulous that is to hear,” she replies. “Too many women in our positions seek only a good marriage, but not one which will satisfy them. Ladies of our class can, in my opinion, benefit from both…”
“I had not considered it,” I confess. “Yet I see that you are quite correct, Helena.”
“Well, of course!” she laughs. “You will find that I often am!”
I join her laughter, sincerely cordial toward her honesty, and finding her company far more comforting than I would ever have imagined. It is then that the gentlemen return to my mind, and I recall what it is that they are discussing right at this very moment. I tense, realising that any bad feeling between Thomas and William is bound to cause friction between Helena and me.
“What is it, Lydia?” she asks, rising into a sitting position on the chaise at my expression.
“I have remembered something,” I say, apparently unable to prevent complete disclosure from Helena this evening.
“What do you recall?” she says impatiently.
I pause before I answer. “I think I know something of the discussion to which Thomas and Lord William will be having now, and I fear that there may be discord between them, and perhaps between us?”
This catches her by surprise, and all of her attention is on me at once. “How so, my dear?” she demands. “They are the oldest of friends. Whatever is it that could cause such disharmony?”
“Me,” I whisper, my voice full of resignation. “I fear that I could…”
Chapter Forty-One: William’s Contrition
The atmosphere in the music room changes perceptibly at my admission. Helena’s blue eyes bore into me in the most invasive way, her mind processing what I have said. Then all at once she relaxes, stretching her long legs out on the chaise again. “You must share this news with me,” she says, her voice soft, yet demanding. “Whatever it is, I should rather be prepared for the torrent.”
“I do not wish to give you cause to dislike me,” I begin. “Especially after we have got along so well this night?”
She turns to look at me. “Do not underestimate me, Lydia,” she says. “I am a woman of the world. There is little you can say which will shock me.”
I nod, yet am still reluctant. After all, how would I feel if another lady had accused Thomas of such inappropriate behaviour? Her gaze though, is insistent, and I know that I must answer. “Something transpired the last time I was here at Cranningford,” I begin, “between Lord William and me.”
I watch her closely as the news settles over here. She nods slowly at my words, her eyes dissatisfied, yet she says nothing, allowing me to go on.
“We were in the drawing room, and he…” I pause, closing my eyes as I recall the instance to which I speak.
“What did he do, Lydia?” she asks, her tone rather curter than it had been previously.
“He pressed himself against me,” I say, hearing my voice falter as the words spill out. “He told me that Thomas and he always share things, and implied that I would be one of them.” I raise my eyes to meet her gaze. “Nothing else transpired,” I offer quickly, “but it was sufficient to make me uncomfortable, and soon after I departed.”
She nods her head. “I recall,” she says. “It did seem rather an abrupt departure at the time. Now perhaps, I understand…”
“Please,” I continue, holding out my hands and nearly spilling my wine. “I swear to you, I did nothing to encourage Lord William’s attention.”
“Of course not,” she laughs, finishing her glass in one long drink. “My husband needs little invitation. He is as they say, a lady-killer, always looking for his next conquest.” Her tone is low, and has a derisive quality to it that makes me shudder.
“I am sorry,” I say in little more than a whisper. “I did not know things were this way.”
The smile that reaches her lips is unsettling. “This is how things are always,” she says. “This is marriage, my dear!”
I shake my head slowly. “It is not how things are between Thomas and me,” I counter. “I am his only love.”
She looks at me in an almost maternal way. “For now…” she agrees. “Of course at this time there is great passion between you. Your marriage is young, and you are hungry for each other. In time these feelings will fade, and you will fill them with different things. One may be other people to share in your desire?”
I swallow hard, suppressing the defiance which swells in me. I should like to tell Helena that things will not be this way between Thomas and me; that we will work hard to be true and satisfy each other, but something about the look in her eyes silences me. There is a genuine sadness there, and although fleeting, the expression makes me want to be her friend, rather than her opponent.
“Will you permit me to ask about your marriage?” I ask, my voice full of hesitation.
Her eyes are on me again, and she nods consent. “I will,” she concludes.
“Does Lord William have many other lovers?” I enquire, conscious of how personal the question is, but somehow needing to know how things really are in the Pembroke relationship.
“At times,” she says, the warmth returning to her eyes. “There are often occasions in which he will take another woman, or invite one to share our bed.”
I gape at her explanations. “To share your bed?” I exclaim.
She smiles. “He knows I have desire in this direction,” she says. “But he also permits me to garner the attention of other men too, if I so choose.”
I cannot help but baulk at this. “And it does not concern him?” I almost hiss at her, “that his wife is intimate with other men?”
“He is accepting,” she says, “just so long as I come to heel when he commands it.”
“It seems incredible,” I whisper, holding the glass to my lips, but unable to take a drink from it.
“Perhaps,” Helena muses, “and yet still it is the truth. And so your admission does not surprise me, dear Lydia. Yet I am sorry that William made you feel uneasy. I am certain that he would not have wanted to achieve that.”
I am startled by Helena’s confessions, and yet still I feel warmth toward her, and I am pleased that she does not seem to hold resentment toward me about Lord William’s behaviour.
“I have been torn about the matter,” I confide, “and yet I know it is important that he and Thomas speak about it. I suppose that ignoring past actions will not help to create a more prosperous future.”
“Let them do so,” she says kindly. “They will settle any quarrel that they have. We can still remain friends, my dear, whatever the case?” She rises from the chaise and offers me her right hand, which she presses against my left wrist.
I smile at her, my head swimming from the combination of her words and the warmth of the wine. It is at this moment that the door to my right flies open, and Thomas and Lord William stride into the room.
“My, my, what do we have here?” Lord William’s voice permeates the room, and both Helena and I turn to look at him.
Helena saunters toward her husband, the picture of casual desire. She circles him in an unhurried way, ensuring that she has the attention of everyone in the room before she speaks. “Welcome, gentlemen,” she says leisurely. “Lydia and I have just been sharing some tales of married life.” She pauses to look upon Thomas, her eyes twinkling.
He looks upon her, unfazed by her brazen display. “Heaven help us,” he chortles, “what have you been filling my wife’s head with?”
She laughs. “I have only been telling her what a wonderful husband you will be!”
Thomas turns to me, clipping his thumbs into his coat pocket as he moves toward where I am seated. “I hope that Lydia is aware of this already,” he says thoughtfully. His left hand passes behind my neck, and I feel his thumb begin to stroke me. The sensual act stirs the lust inside me, curling the feelings into a tight ball.
“I am,” I
answer softly. “I truly am.”
“And what have you two gentlemen been discussing in our absence?” Helena’s pitch is shrill, and once again we all turn to her.
“I am pleased that you asked,” says Lord William, moving forward past his wife. “Thomas and I have been talking, and he has brought to my attention a rather unpleasant issue.”
“Oh?” says Helena, feigning ignorance, although I suspect we both know what might be about to come next. “And what unpleasantness is this?”
“Can we all be seated?” asks William, throwing his arms out in an open gesture.
There are nods of consent from Thomas and Helena, who both find places to sit. Helena resumes hers on the chaise, leaving space for her husband to join her, whilst Thomas pulls up a tall, high-backed chair to my right. Sitting almost directly opposite me, Lord William clears his throat, once again taking control of the conversation.
“Helena, I am afraid that the unpleasantness concerns myself and Lady Lydia.”
The tension in my belly increases at his words; the lust I had felt earlier combining with the terror at what he may be about to say. Beside me Thomas shifts, and I feel his left palm against my right hand, the warmth comforting me in the most fundamental way.
“Am I the only one here who does not know to what you speak about?” asks Helena.
I look to her, marvelling inwardly at her performance. Had I myself not confided the news to Helena just moments before, I would never have believed that she was privy to it.
“Be calm, darling,” says Lord William, patting her lap affectionately. “I will endeavour to explain.”
Helena lets out a theatrical sigh. “Of course, my love,” she says, “please continue.”
“Thank you,” he says, his tone serious. “You must all allow me to confess what transpired when Lydia was last with us, and Thomas had been called back to Markham to tend to the countess.”
“Please, go on, William,” coaxes Thomas to my right. He squeezes my hand gently, sneaking a small glance in my direction. I offer him a weak smile, trying to calm the raging anxiety which is rising within me.
Taming Lady Lydia Page 35