by Sophia James
He made himself take a deep breath and stepped away from his wife, who was fumbling with the undone buttons on her shirt front. With an effort he tried to find in the interruption some measure of calm as he passed three china bowls across to John.
‘If you will take these up with you, Mrs Orchard is wanting them back. Ask her to send down some more water and herbs, if you would, and an apple or two if she has them.’
Amethyst was looking at him, a wobbly uncertain smile on her face, and then she was gone, following the stablemaster up towards the kitchens. Daniel watched her until shadow replaced form and then turned to lean against the wall behind.
He had wanted to take her on the filthy floor of a working stable. The full flush of need left him reeling and he knew he had marked Amethyst with his mouth and that the red whorls of bruising would be even more noticeable on the morrow.
She made him into a man he did not recognise, the more usual temperance replaced instead by a desperate carnal greed. She was his wife, for God’s sake, and Gerald Whitely had probably hurt her more times than Daniel could possibly imagine. If he had been allowed the free rein of his desire, could he have done the same? Even now with all these thoughts his rod was stiff and ready, a haze of need making his head buzz and his eyesight blur. A man no better than those soldiers he had seen in the last weeks of the march, any woman young or old a target for their violent ardour.
He had always been in control and had been raised to treat a woman with respect. Until Amethyst. Until the smell and feel of her had burnt into reason and left him crazy.
The ache in his groin intensified and he turned to slam his fist hard into the solid wall behind him, once and then twice more.
Even then the pain did not entirely negate his desperate need and as he swore Deimos lifted his head across the half-wall to watch him.
‘We are both of us made damn fools by women,’ he said quietly, cradling his bloodied hand as he prayed to God for strength.
* * *
Amethyst got up as soon as the first light of dawn crossed the eastern sky and dressed in a sprigged muslin gown with a half-cape to match.
The stables looked deserted as she reached them and, walking down the aisle, she found Daniel tucked into a bed of straw. In sleep he looked younger than he did awake, the lines of responsibility drawn in the daytime upon him lessened in slumber.
‘Deimos was restless all night, my lady.’
John had come up to stand beside her, a bunch of fresh straw in his arms.
‘His lordship bathed the leg twice more in the early hours and applied fresh poultices. Honey and garlic, I think he used this time, though it’s the heat that does it.’
‘A difficult night, then?’
‘Indeed.’ The old man’s eyes took in more than she might have wanted, his glance crossing over her colourful gown and carefully brushed hair.
She wished she might stay there and watch over her husband, but she imagined the busy routine of a stables was not one to be easily interrupted and she did not want to be in the way.
‘How long will he sleep for?’
‘A few hours yet, I’d say, my lady. Deimos reared up at one point when the Earl took him outside and a hoof connected with his bad thigh. Whisky seems to have allowed him some slumber, though it’s a two-sided relief. He will have a headache when he comes round and the mood to match it.’
Her eyes took in the top of his right leg where the blanket had fallen away. A smear of old blood had soaked through the fabric of his breeches, darkening the beige into a dirty brown. She also saw his silver flask lying on the straw in a way that pointed to the fact that there was nothing left in the bottle. When she had sipped at it last night the level had been almost to the top.
Unshaved and dishevelled, Daniel looked somehow vulnerable. She wished she could have pulled the blanket up against the chill and covered him, but the stable was quickening into work for the day so she moved back.
‘I’ll let his lordship know you were here, then, Lady Montcliffe. He’d be pleased no doubt that you came to see how Deimos fared.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I wouldn’t expect him up at the big house for a few more hours yet, mind. That’s a fair bit of alcohol he’s consumed.’
His laughter followed her outside, though as she got to the top of the path she saw her father and Mrs McBeth standing together. When she joined them Robert smiled.
‘Julia wanted to show me the wildlife in the pond at the front of the house. She also says kingfishers, jackdaws and pipistrelle bats are common around here, so I’m looking forward to seeing those, too.’ He frowned as he looked at her more closely. ‘You look tired.’
‘Lord Montcliffe’s stallion was injured and we spent the night in the stables tending to him.’
‘All night?’
‘No. I returned to the house around one o’clock, but the Earl is still there.’
‘Working on Deimos?’ The question came quickly from Julia.
‘No. He is sleeping.’
When Amethyst caught the light blue eyes she saw worry, understanding and acceptance. Daniel had been her charge for many years, but now she was leaving his well-being to a young wife and trusting her to see him safe. The connection between her and Julia McBeth was unexpected but strong and she saw her father had felt the same sort of affinity for the older woman.
A new beginning for them all then and in a landscape that was both beautiful and peaceful. Even Dunstan House paled against the countryside here and the magnificence of Montcliffe Manor.
Bidding her father and Julia goodbye, she watched them walk together, talking all the way until they were lost from sight.
Today she needed to speak with her husband and be honest about her relationship with Gerald. She needed to tell him things and explain. She also wanted him to kiss her again and hold her in the same way he had yesterday, passion filling every single part of her body.
Snatching at a daisy flower in the grass, she peeled away the petals and chanted an old ditty from her childhood.
He loves me, he loves me not.
The chant continued until a small pile of plucked white was scattered about her.
He loves me...
The last petal. She smiled as she walked towards the house.
Chapter Eleven
The Earl was present for neither lunch nor dinner and when Amethyst asked Mrs Orchard of the whereabouts of her husband, the housekeeper was vague and unhelpful.
Lucien and Andrew Howard had left for London earlier in the day and Gwen had opted to travel with them on the promise that she could return and spend some time with her brother and his new wife the following week. Daniel’s mother and her youngest daughter had departed the day before. So it was just her father and Mrs McBeth who were left in the parlour after the night-time meal and both of them looked exhausted.
‘Would you mind if we retired early, my love? Julia has planned another morning ramble for me to enjoy tomorrow and I don’t want to miss it.’
Amethyst was amazed. Her pale, thin and ill father seemed here to have been given another lease on life. Even his clothes seemed to sit on him better.
‘Of course not, Papa. I was about to go up myself.’ Her eyes glanced at the ornate timepiece on the mantel. Eight o’clock. Perhaps she could find a book in the Montcliffe library before she went upstairs. The thought cheered her.
A few minutes later she stood in front of the bookcase and perused the contents. All manner of tomes graced the shelves, from the weighty pens of the ancient Greek philosophers to the lighter one of Maria Edgeworth’s Tales of Fashionable Life. She smiled. She could not in a million years imagine Daniel Wylde reading that.
Where was he? she thought. Was he in his chamber or had he been called away? She had caught sight of John earlier and asked after De
imos. By his account the stallion was on the road to recovery and the Earl had left the stables after the midday lunch.
* * *
Back in her room, she crossed to their shared doorway and stood to listen. No noise or movement could be heard on the other side, which led her to the conclusion that he was not there. Another thought surfaced. Had he regretted their marriage already and journeyed back to London? Perhaps Andrew had worsened or Caroline? She could not believe the Earl wouldn’t at least have informed her of something so terrible and pushed the notion away. She wished it was last night again and that they were in the stall with his stallion. She wanted to feel his mouth on her breast and find the love marks on her body as she had this morning when she had taken off her nightgown.
Surprising. Drawn in passion. Treasured. All the feelings that Gerald had never been able to give her with his accusations and his anger. Her fault, he had said, but increasingly she was beginning to understand that the problem had been his own and that in her innocence she had not comprehended such a falsehood.
In the stall last night Daniel’s manhood had pressed against her in a way she had never felt Gerald’s do. Oh, he had kissed her nicely at first and at least with some modicum of need, but she had not seen any outward sign of masculine lust.
With Daniel it was entirely different and it was addictive to think that she, the plain and boring Miss Amethyst Cameron of her first husband’s angry tirades, might affect the one man whom every lady, young and old, of the ton coveted.
Lord Montcliffe liked her. He liked kissing her and he liked her blushes and if John the stablemaster had not interrupted them she was sure her husband would have asked for...more.
She fanned her face with her hand and crossed the room to look at herself in the mirror. The whorls of red still showed in the crease of her neck and across the swell of her bosom. Thrilling reminders as she flicked her thumb across her nipple in the same motion as he had and a sharp pain of want pierced thinly. Changing. Quickening. For so long she had been afraid of everything and now she wasn’t.
Tears sprang to her eyes, the hope in her reflection obvious. Would Daniel want her as much as she wanted him? Would he allow her to make the first move or was it proper to wait for a man to initiate intimacy?
Another worry then surfaced. Would the birthmark on the top of her left thigh be as much of a problem for him as it had been for Gerald? He had hated the mark and on the few occasions when they were first married and he had tried to take her to his bed he had been unable to remain there. She had not known much of what should have happened between a man and a woman, but she knew enough to understand his deep loathing of her own inadequacies.
‘You are ugly,’ he had railed, ‘and you make no attempt at all to entice me. Ugly, thin and marked.’
The embarrassment of such words still lingered, anger and shame there in the mix, but also puzzlement. She could not imagine Daniel shelving his masculine passion for such a thing.
The small fire in the grate sparked and a handful of red embers glowed against the back of the chimney. If they stayed there whilst she counted to five everything would be all right, but if they faded...
Closing her eyes, she chanted the numbers quickly, pleased to see the sparks still lived against the dark and sooty framework when she opened them again.
The signs were changing, she thought, and for the better. The petals the other day and now the sparks. Perhaps things would be all right, after all, and the hopes and dreams she had of this marriage would come to pass. Threading her hands together, she knelt beside her bed and prayed her very hardest that the sort of love her parents had enjoyed might be transferred to their lives as well.
* * *
Breakfast the next day was a strained affair. Amethyst had been married for nearly four days and yet she had seen her husband for less than twelve hours during all that time.
Her father ate quietly next to her as she picked at the scrambled eggs she had on her plate. Julia on the other side of Robert looked worried as well.
‘I was certain Mrs Orchard would know something of the movements of the Earl, though she swore that she did not when I asked her this morning.’
‘Is it normal for Montcliffe to simply just disappear like this?’ Her father asked that question.
The older lady shook her head. ‘No, I imagine it is most unusual unless he has been called away to London, which could be the case.’
‘He said nothing to you at all, my love?
‘We were busy with the stallion, Papa. The next morning I went down to see how the Earl had fared, but he was asleep. The horse had been restless by all accounts in the night and the old stablemaster told me that Lord Montcliffe had tended to it.’
‘How is Deimos now?’ Julia’s question held concern.
‘I’ll go down to see John after breakfast and ask. I had not imagined Lord Montcliffe to just leave Montcliffe Manor given the stallion’s accident and that is what is so strange.’
She did not add that from her point of view his disappearance was also surprising. Their last meeting had been full of the promise of more intimacy and to find herself left without an explanation was odd.
‘Julia and I are off to look at various houses in the area today. Perhaps you would like to come and join us? We could pack a picnic and have it by the river for the weather is mild and no rain is predicted.’
Amethyst shook her head. A whole day away from Montcliffe Manor and the hope of seeing Daniel was not a prospect she looked forward to.
‘Thank you for asking me, Papa, but I think I will visit Deimos this morning and take him some fruit.’
* * *
An hour later she hung on the half-door and watched the enormous stallion. Today he was ready to greet her and far more interested in his surroundings. The left fetlock still held a bandage, but he did not favour the leg as he once had.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ She held out an apple brought from the kitchen and the horse took it from her, crunching down the fruit in seconds. ‘I see you are a lot better. Your master will be most pleased.’
‘Oh, indeed he is,’ John said from behind her. ‘He asks morning and night about Deimos’s progress.’
Amethyst’s heart began to beat faster. Morning and night? He was here somewhere, then? Her eyes took in all the corners of the stables and saw nothing.
‘You have been speaking to my husband?’
The old man frowned. ‘Of course.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In the annexe, Lady Montcliffe. It’s Mrs Orchard’s hope that the fever will be breaking soon, though from what I can see...’
Fever? The annexe? What on earth had happened?
‘Where exactly is the annexe, John?’ Amethyst tried to keep her voice even, but the pitch had risen considerably and for the first time in their conversation the old stablemaster looked uncomfortable.
‘’Tis behind the main house, my lady, through the kitchen gardens and out the back. It used to be the quarters of the Earl’s grandfather, so it is well furnished and comfortable. If you get lost, ask any of the servants and they will give you direction.’
‘Thank you.’ She walked away at a pace that she hoped would not draw attention, but every part of her wanted to break into a run. Daniel was here and he was sick and she had not been told anything of it at all. The anger in her mounted as she strode around the corner to the kitchen.
A serving maid walked down the path with a tray of untouched food as she approached the door, her face paling as their glances met.
‘My lady...I think Mrs Orchard would like to see you before...’
‘Oh, I am more than certain that she would,’ Amethyst returned, her tone cutting. Continuing on, she gave the girl no more attention and was glad the servant seemed to have decided reinforcements were needed, her retreating footsteps b
ecoming fainter and fainter.
The room was dark when she opened the door, and hot, a good ten degrees warmer than the summer’s morning outside and it took a moment for her eyes to acclimatise from sun to shadow. Then she took in breath. Nothing made any sense here, the dying stalks of reeds in vases and the ancient carcase of an animal on the table strung out with pins and beads. The air around her was filled with the smell of pitch and sulphur.
A crunch beneath her feet made her look down. Eggshells, crumbled into pieces and mixed with what looked to be apple and bread. On the table in the middle of the room old bottles were arranged in a long line with bags of canvas above, the brown sediment dripping from each corner collected in a large brass pail. A jar of honey and several dishes of dried spices sat next to them with pills in brown paper twists, all opened to show a good many had already been administered.
A groan of pain took her attention.
‘Daniel?’
The noise stopped.
She was in the smaller rear chamber in a second and there in a bed of blankets her husband lay, woollen fabric wrapped around his head and his face crimson with the heat. When he saw her recognition flinted and his hand came up.
‘Go...away...’
But she had already seen what he was trying to hide. His naked right leg was swollen to three times its normal size and the flesh of his thigh was purple and mottled.
‘My God.’ She was across the room in a second, the flat of her palm against his skin on his forehead. Heat radiated out, the dryness of it more worrying than anything else. Pale eyes watched her, grimacing as he failed to sit up.
‘Stay still,’ she ordered and began to strip away the heavy bedding before crossing to the windows and opening them. The air came rushing in, a draught that dispensed somewhat with the awful smell of sulphur and pitch and rustled the lawn curtains. Returning to his side, she snatched the wool from his head and threw the thing right out of the window. It sailed past the astonished presence of Mrs Orchard.