Page 13 of The Lovers
“I wouldn’t know, me lady. She doesn’t share confidences with the likes of me,” Lucy answered good-naturedly. “She is very stern and rather frightens me at times,” Lucy blurted out before realizing her mistake. She looked momentarily frightened, but Elise rushed to assure her.
“Don’t worry, Lucy. Anything you say to me will be held in confidence. I thought Lady Asher looked rather forbidding myself.”
Lucy smiled, her relief evident. “Me father says that I need to learn to hold me tongue. I do tend to speak out of turn sometimes, and it always gets me into trouble.”
“You’re not in trouble, Lucy. Does Lord Asher scare you?” Elise asked carefully.
“No, me lady. He’s a good master. He’s always mindful of the servants and never takes advantage.”
“How do you mean?” Elise asked.
Lucy blushed to the roots of her hair, having again said something she shouldn’t have. She opened her mouth to explain, then closed it again, like a landed fish.
“I don’t rightly know…” she began.
“You mean he doesn’t take liberties with the female servants,” Elise finished for her.
“Aye, ma’am. That is what I meant.”
Elise nodded in understanding. Lucy might have spoken out of turn, but it was good to know that her husband wasn’t taking willing or unwilling servants to his bed, as many other men did. Elise had begun to wonder if her own father might be bedding one of the servants, a chit named Grace who seemed to suddenly put on airs over the past few months and was showing off a new pair of shoes that she boasted were a gift from an admirer. Elise had assumed that the admirer was someone from outside the household, but she’d seen Grace blush and giggle when she saw her father in the corridor, and rather than reprimand the girl, he smiled at her in a familiar manner, his expression one of indulgence rather than annoyance.
What a lot she had to learn about relations between men and women. Only this summer, Elise would have burned with shame at having such a thought about her father, who was deep in mourning for his wife, but she’d come to see a different, more practical side of him over the past few weeks and all her assumptions about his character were now being put to the test. Could a man love his wife but still look for pleasure elsewhere? Was it their nature, or was it a lack of respect for the institution of marriage and their spouse? Elise heard that the court of Charles II was like a game of musical beds, but she assumed that such debauchery was limited to His Majesty’s cronies. Her father was a good and decent man who always put his wife and family first. Could it be that he was really no better than the faithless courtiers who thwarted the rules of God and man in pursuit of pleasure?
Elise pushed aside this unwelcome thought. Her father’s personal business was his own. He wouldn’t be the first or the lastman to take a mistress, especially since he was now widowed. She only hoped that the liaison with Grace had begun after and not before her mother’s death. She needed to believe that her father had been faithful and decent.
Lucy finished brushing Elise’s hair and went to poke up the fire in the grate. “Shall I turn down the bed for you, me lady?”
Elise looked with distaste at the massive bed that dominated the chamber. It was carved of mahogany and decorated with crimson velvet hangings embroidered with flowers and birds. She briefly wondered if Edward used this room as his bedchamber or if it had been specially prepared for the bridal couple. Elise climbed into the bed, pulled up the coverlet to her chin, and surveyed the room. She hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a second door between the fireplace and the corner of the room. It blended into the paneling, the only thing giving it away was the seam around the door that was barely visible from a different angle.
“Where does that lead?” she asked Lucy, who was putting away her gown and shoes.
“Oh, that leads to his lordship’s bedchamber. He prefers it to this room. ’Tis where his wife died.” Lucy looked stricken as she uttered the words, clamping her hand over her mouth. The girl really was a wealth of information, through no intention of her own.
“I see. Is there a key?”
Lucy blushed as she shook her head. “No, me lady. Lord Asher likes to keep that door unlocked at all times. He has the key in his possession.”
Elise sighed. So, her husband would have access to her bedchamber whenever he wished. She supposed that was to beexpected, but that she couldn’t even expect that small bit of privacy still rankled.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll say good night,” Lucy said as she sank into an awkward curtsy.
“Good night, Lucy. Sleep well.”
“You too, me lady,” Lucy said with an impish smile. “I hope to find ye in fine spirits come morning.”
The girl was saucy, Elise had to admit that, but she couldn’t help smiling. She liked Lucy, and at the moment, she really needed a friend.
NINE
Elise woke with a start. The candle had burned down, and the fire had been reduced to a heap of smoldering embers. A rosy glow illuminated the room, making everything appear dreamlike. The connecting door between her room and Edward’s was open, and a silhouette stood over the bed. Elise sat up, amazed that she’d managed to fall asleep in her state of nervous expectation. It had to be after midnight since the house was silent around her, all traces of earlier merriment gone now that the guests had departed.
Edward pulled a new candle out of a drawer and held it to the embers until the wick caught. A little golden flame sprang to life, casting light onto his face. He had removed his wig and coat, wearing only a shirt, breeches, and hose. Edward looked disheveled, his face puffy from overindulgence in drink. Elise assumed that he was about to undress and get into bed, but instead he sat in a chair, studying her with an air of maudlin reflection, likely brought on by drunkenness. He seemed in no hurry to come to bed and just remained where he was, watching Elise, which made her shiver with apprehension.
The door creaked, and a young man entered the chamber on silent feet. Elise stiffened at the sight of him, unsure of why he was there. He wasn’t a servant, she was sure of that. She’d seen him before today, with Edward, and then again at the church, but he hadn’t been at the supper. She expected Edward to order him to leave immediately, but her husband said nothing, amused by her reaction. He waved the young man into the room and asked him to close the connecting door. Elise turned to her husband, awaiting anexplanation as her heart thumped against her breast and her breath caught in her throat.
“My dear,” Edward began, his tone solicitous, “there is something I must share with you.”
“My lord?” Elise’s voice shook. She had no idea what her husband was about to say, but she knew, in that instinctive way one knew things, that whatever it was, she wasn’t going to like it.
