Part 2 (1/2)

”Will you?” he had said, reaching down and drawing back the blankets that covered her. She had not flinched. He almost forgot to snuff the two candles that stood on the table beside her. He normally preferred to make love with light around him, but he did not wish to make the consummation of his marriage an unnecessarily embarra.s.sing ordeal for Arabella.

He had been somewhat touched by her quietness. If she meant to be as obedient throughout their marriage as she had been in the performance of her first duty as his wife, he supposed he must consider himself a fortunate man.

She had said nothing and had given no indication of discomfort or shock or pain. She had not resisted him in any way. She had lain apparently relaxed while he raised her nightgown, lowered himself on top of her, and eased her legs apart. And he had felt her take a slow and deep breath before he had mounted her. She had made no sign as he did so, even though he had felt the breaking of her virginity. And she had lain quiet and still until he was finished with her. It had taken rather longer than he would have wished. He was not used to proceeding immediately to the final stage of lovemaking without all the pleasurable stages that usually went before when one dealt with a mistress rather than a wife.

It was only as he had been withdrawing from her that a whimper had escaped her. It had been quickly stifled, and he had not remarked on it. He guessed that she had been feeling far more than her calm manner had indicated. He had not wished her to feel that she had failed. He had sat on the edge of her bed and touched her cheek again before getting to his feet. His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, but he could not see her expression.

”I am afraid I hurt you,” he had said. ”But I believe you will find your duty less painful after tonight.”

”That is what Mama said,” she had replied. ”But it was not your fault, my lord. It is always that way for a bride on her wedding night, Mama says.”

He had smiled in the darkness. ”Well, your duty is done for tonight,” he had said. ”Good night, Arabella.”

”Good night, my lord,” she had said.

Lord Astor found that he was smiling now at the canopy over his bed. She spoke just like a child, seeming not to choose her words with the diplomacy one expected of an adult.

It was a relief at least to know that he was not going to have trouble with Arabella. She was going to be obedient and dutiful, she had told him. And she had proceeded with unexpected docility to prove she meant what she said.

Strange! There had been something almost erotic about the stillness of her small body, her silent surrender, her total lack of involvement in what he had been doing to her body. He tried to imagine Ginny lying and behaving so, but he repressed the thought before it had a chance to develop in his mind. It would not be fair to make comparisons. Not tonight. Not when he had just left his wife's bed. She was probably still suffering from shock and pain.

4.

The dowager Viscountess Astor and her two unmarried daughters returned early to Parkland the next morning so that the travelers might be on their way. Arabella met them at the outer door, which a footman held open. Her husband came behind her, having moved from the breakfast parlor at a far more sedate pace than his wife when they heard the carriage.

”Mama!” Arabella cried, rus.h.i.+ng into her mother's arms as if they had been apart for a month.

”There, there, my love,” her mother said, patting her daughter on the back. ”Let me look at you. Lady Astor! Whoever would have thought that one day you would have my t.i.tle, my love? How pretty you look this morning.”

Arabella doubted the truth of that remark. She knew that she must look more childish than usual with her cheeks flushed.

”Welcome back to your home, ma'am,” Lord Astor said, coming up behind Arabella and extending a hand to his mother-in-law. ”We will be on our way as soon as we can.”

Frances was sobbing into her handkerchief. ”Bella,” she said. ”Oh, dear Bella, how happy I am for you. Such a handsome husband! Even more handsome than Theodore, I do declare. I am so glad for you. I know you will be wonderfully happy.”

”Are you very sad to be leaving Theodore?” Arabella asked, her face sympathetic. ”It must be dreadful for you, Frances.”

”I do not know why you say that, Bella,” Frances said, dabbing at her moist eyes and putting her handkerchief away. ”Sir Theodore is merely a neighbor and friend.”

”Bella. Oh, Bella.” Jemima was bouncing on the spot, waiting for some of her older sister's attention. ”You will send me a present from London? You will not forget, Bella?”

”I will not allow her to do so,” Lord Astor said, having finished his conversation with his mother-in-law. ”Is there anything in particular you would like, Jemima?”

Half an hour more pa.s.sed before Lord Astor's traveling carriage was finally on its way, a coach from the Parkland stables following behind with the baggage and his lords.h.i.+p's valet. The dowager viscountess had had a private word with both daughters and a hug for each.

”I can see from the harmony between you and his lords.h.i.+p that you did your duty last night as I instructed you,” she said to a blus.h.i.+ng Arabella. ”You will continue to do so, Bella? It will not be near so fearsome from now on. Oh, my love. So young and a married lady already. It seems no more than a couple of years ago that you were a babe in arms.”

Both Frances and her mother shed tears at the parting, but Arabella fought hers. The last thing she wanted was to have to face Lord Astor in his carriage with a s.h.i.+ny red nose, blotched cheeks, and bloodshot eyes.

Arabella was glad they were on their way. There was a certain anxiety, of course, about knowing that she was at the beginning of a three-day journey that would take her far from home, far from all the familiar people and places she had known in her life. She felt some misgiving too in knowing that at the end of that journey lay London and the Season and the ton.

But even so, given the circ.u.mstances, she was glad the journey had begun. The farewell from Mama and Jemima had been heart-wrenching. She had never been away from them for even so much as a night before last night. There had, of course, been some consolation in knowing that she was at least to take Frances with her. And perhaps it had helped her somewhat in the parting from her mother to be forced to spend the first half-hour of the journey consoling a weeping older sister. However, the worst was over. Arabella did not think she could endure too many such partings.

But perhaps her main reason for being glad she was on her way was knowing that her wedding day was safely behind her, that her new life was inevitable, and that it was as well to begin that new life without delay. In truth, she faced London and the Season with excitement as well as anxiety. She had always dreamed about seeing all the members of fas.h.i.+onable society of whom she was one by birth. And it would be wonderful to attend a real ball, to watch a play at a real theater, to see the queen, perhaps. If only the poor king were not indisposed!

Arabella was glad that the journey was to last for three days. For three days she would not have to undergo the embarra.s.sment of being alone with her husband. He talked to Frances after she finally recovered from her grief, and answered her eager questions about the latest style in bonnets in town. Frances always knew what was appropriate conversation for a lady, though she had had no more exposure to fas.h.i.+onable living than Arabella. Why could she never think of anything to say to him?

The evening before had been pure agony. The day had not been so bad, as they had been surrounded by friends and family. And even when she had stood next to Lord Astor at the altar she had known what to say. There were certain prescribed responses, and she had had no difficulty at all in making them. But at dinner and during the evening they had been alone. And she had become almost paralyzingly aware again of what a poor excuse for a bride to such a handsome gentleman she was. How dreadful it was to know that he must be looking at her undergrown, plain, and childish person, knowing that she was his wife.

She had found herself horribly tongue-tied. She had been able to think of no fascinating topic on which to converse, though she had searched and searched her mind while she chewed each mouthful of food far longer than was necessary. Yet during the few moments when she had forgotten herself, she had suddenly discovered that she was gabbling on about George and his exploits or about Emily, her horse. She had even asked him about the health of the poor king, when she knew she should have maintained a polite silence on the topic. Who wished to admit that the King of Englanda”poor dear gentlemana”was mad? She should have asked about the Prince Regent or Princess Charlotte. But she had not thought of them.

It would be a great relief to have Frances staying with her in London. Perhaps her husband would not notice her plainness and her dullness so much while he had Frances to look at and converse with. Though of course he would also be able to see them together and be reminded of the contrast between them. How he must wish that Frances was his wife and she his sister-in-law.

Arabella was hoping quite fervently that she would not have to perform her marriage duty until they reached London. They had not brought a maid with them. Surely, then, Frances would not be expected to occupy an inn room alone for three nights. She would certainly have fits of the vapors and the hysterics at the prospect of some desperate villain breaking in upon her in the dark of the night. Besides, it would not be at all proper. It stood to reason that Arabella would share her room and Lord Astor stay alone.

Arabella hoped so. She even crossed her fingers on both hands and pressed them hard into her lap for a moment to induce the fates to be kind to her. It was not that she was undutiful. She was Lord Astor's wife now, and she planned to spend the rest of her life obeying him, doing all within her power to make him comfortable. But she needed the three days to recover from the night before.

She was so dreadfully sore. Mama had not warned her of that, and Arabella had not been able to muster the courage that morning to ask if it was a natural result of a wedding night. She had expected to feel pain only at the actual moment of the consummation.

She certainly had felt pain then, but it had not ended there. Arabella had not been unduly shocked by the marriage act. She had grown up surrounded by animals, and at quite a young age she had concluded that what applied to them probably applied somewhat equally to humans. But she had not expected quite such a deep invasion of her person. And she had not expected that it would hurt quite so much. She had thought, as she lay quiet and submissive beneath the weight of her husband's body, that his movements would never stop. Each stroke had seemed to rub her raw.

She had concentrated all her thoughts on doing her duty like a good and obedient wife. By some superhuman power she had resisted the impulse to push at his shoulders and to cry out to him to stop, to please be finished quickly. She had let sound escape her only once. He had stopped finally and blessedly, and she had been vastly relieved. But when he had begun to withdraw, she had thought for a moment that it was all going to start again, and she had been unable to quell that sound of protest. She had been horrified. She had fully expected that he would express deep displeasure with her. But he had said nothing.

She was still sore. Arabella stole a glance at the dismayingly handsome profile of her husband as he discussed parasols with Frances. She would perform her duty again tonight if she must. After all, it was something to which she had to accustom herself. But please, dear G.o.d, she thought, let it wait until London. She could still feel the raw hurt along every inch of her he had used the night before.

Arabella set one hand loosely on top of the other in her lap and watched her husband and her sister as if she were a child who must not interrupt adult conversation. If only she were taller, she thought, and thinner. If only she could converse interestingly about bonnets and parasols. If only she could weep and look pretty. If only she could look pretty even without weeping!

It seemed strange to have ladies in residence at the house on Upper Grosvenor Street. Lord Astor, used to burying his head in the morning paper at breakfast while partaking of his usual kidneys and toast and coffee, was somewhat taken aback to find his wife already seated at the table when he came downstairs the morning after their arrival in town. He had always a.s.sumed that ladies kept to their beds until noon. Though why he should have thought so of Arabella, he did not know, since she had usually been outside riding or walking with her dog at Parkland whenever he came downstairs.

He bade her good morning, helped himself to breakfast at the sideboard, and sat down at the head of the table. He glanced regretfully at his paper, folded as usual beside his fork. He left it where it was. He wished Arabella were easier to talk to.

”I had thought to take you shopping this morning,” he said. ”Both you and your sister will need completely new wardrobes for the Season. However, on second thought, perhaps it would be advisable to have a lady of some taste to help advise you. I plan to call on Lady Berry, my aunt, this morning. Perhaps she will have time to accompany you to a modiste this afternoon or tomorrow morning. Will that suit you?”

”If you wish it, my lord,” she said, looking up at him brightly. ”I know I am no beauty and I know I am ridiculously small for a lady. But I wish to do credit to you when I appear in public.”

He smiled. ”Very few people are raving beauties, Arabella,” he said. ”Most of us have to make the best of the a.s.sets we have. You are not an antidote and I do not wish to hear you repeatedly belittling yourself.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. ”I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said. ”I shall not do so again.”

”My name is Geoffrey,” he said. ”Will you use it?”

”If you wish it, my lord,” she said.

He smiled fleetingly again. ”If you are not to go shopping after all,” he said, ”may I send a hairdresser, Arabella? I believe you will find that fas.h.i.+onable hair styles are a great deal lighter and curlier than yours. One of the new styles would become you well.”