Page 42 of Lady Beast's Bridegroom
“I am a little under the weather today,” Arial admitted. “I am not ill, Peter. It is a regular inconvenience. I will be perfectly recovered in a day or so.”
When Peter suggested that her symptoms were a response to the gossip, she realized he had no idea what she was hinting at. She struggled for the words to explain. “It is not that. I have my woman’s inconvenience.”
He still looked blank, so she tried again, her face heating. “It is the periodic bleeding to which women are subject. I have cramps in my belly, and plan to go to bed with a hot brick.”
Now Peter flushed. “Oh. I didn’t… That is, is there anything I can do for you? Should we have…? I mean, last night, was I too…?”
That he was as embarrassed as she was helped to steady her. “Last night was very pleasant.” Last night, like every night in the past three weeks, had been magnificent, incredible, mind-blowing, but discussing things of the night in the broad light of day was making her very uncomfortable.
“I am like this every month. The discomfort will pass quite quickly. I will send a note to Lady Castleford begging off tonight’s musicale—unless you wish to go without me?” At Peter’s grimace, she nodded. “By tomorrow, I will manage my normal routine.”
She needed to find a way to tell him how long before they could resume their nights together, which was even more embarrassing than the rest. Thankfully, he took the initiative. “When may we…”
“It varies. Perhaps five days?” Her face must be bright scarlet. “I will tell the housekeeper to make sure your bed has clean sheets.”
Peter looked startled. “Clean sheets? Oh yes, of course.” He dropped another kiss on the top of her head. “I hope you feel better soon.”
Arial thanked him, and went up to her room, sending a footman for Nancy on her way. All the time she was sipping the peppermint tea her maid brought her, and afterwards as she lay in a curl under the covers, waiting for the heat from the wrapped brick to soothe her muscles, she wondered at that last exchange. What had surprised him about clean sheets for his bed? After all, he could not have expected to come to her own while she was indisposed. Could he?
*
Peter tossed andturned for the second night in a row. It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable. He had slept well enough his first night as Arial’s guest. But ever since then, he had shared a bed with Arial. He missed her. He missed joining with her, but beyond that, he missed sharing a bed with her. He missed spooning himself around her, her fragrance in his nostrils, his torso pressed against her back, the bend of his knees echoing the bend of hers. He missed going to sleep with her in his arms and drifting upwards through sleep aware of her breathing softly beside him.
He should have asked if he could stay with her. But perhaps she didn’t want him. Perhaps the presence that had become such a joy to him, even a necessity, was to her a disturbance. She was anxious to have a child. Perhaps she just tolerated his attentions in order to achieve that happy result. Though she certainly seemed enthusiastic enough at the time.
He had checked on her several times yesterday and today, but she assured him that all was proceeding as it should, and that she would soon be better. Clara said the same thing.
He sat up, got out of bed, and lit the candle. He would pour himself a drink and think about what he had learned today. There was new spate of flyers. The original printer was still reprinting the original caricature and the second one but had added a third.
“Lady or Fiend?” said the heading. The female figure underneath had a line drawn down the center of her body. On one side was a fashionably gowned and coiffed female. On the other a ghastly creature, naked, with six dugs, goats’ legs and hoofs, a long serpent’s tail ending in a narrow point, all topped by a horned skull.
Other printers had taken up the sensation of the moment, with variations on the theme that Peter’s wife was hideous and had the behavior and appetites of a beast. Several showed the figure meant to be her naked but for the signature half mask, and in coitus in the position known asdoggy style. The companion figure was not always human.
He was going to have to show Arial. If he did not, someone else would, and then she would be hurt he had kept the truth from her. Why could she not understand that it was killing him not being able to protect her from these malicious calumnies?
In the past few days, some of the invitations they had received had been rescinded without explanation. On the other hand, their company was being solicited by some of the worst notoriety hunters in Society. Peter wasn’t sure which was more disagreeable.
From what his friends said—Peter had stayed home the last two nights while Arial was indisposed—public opinion was largely sympathetic. There were those who professed to be horrified by Arial’s mask, now that they knew what wasunderneath, but many of them were friends of either Stancroft or the dowager Lady Ransome.
Peter could not prove it, but he was certain those two were stirring the pot. The Weatheralls were subdued, but John intended to make the break with them soon, and no doubt they would join the campaign against Peter and his wife once that happened.
It was dawn, and the house was beginning to stir. Peter was clearly not going to go back to sleep. He might as well put on some clothes and go and read the steward’s report that arrived late yesterday afternoon. Turning his mind to Three Oaks would be a welcome relief.
*
Arial came downto breakfast and declared herself fully fit again. Peter didn’t argue, though she was pale and had purple bruises under her eyes. He caught her up to date with the Three Oaks report, and she shared with him some of the correspondence that she and Clara had dealt with the previous afternoon.
When that conversation flagged, Arial had a request. “I hoped that today, it being fine, you might have time to take me driving in Hyde Park, Lord Ransome.”
Hyde Park! Where every idle fribble, gossip monger, and counter coxcomb went on the strut to be admired?Peter could think of little that would please him less. “Are you sure? One cannot get the cattle up above a slow walk. I can think of better places for a nice drive.”
Arial, though, wanted to see and be seen. “I have not been out for two days. I want people to know I’m not hiding. If you drive me around for half an hour or so, word will soon get to those who have not seen for themselves.”
Peter would rather that they hid. Going back to Three Oaks was looking more and more appealing. However, he agreed to Arial’s outing. First, though, he would have to show her the latest collection of flyers. He didn’t imagine anyone would be crass enough to face her with them on their drive, but he didn’t want to take the risk.
Arial raised her eyebrows at the pictures and blushed at the indecent ones. She was inclined, though, to be optimistic about their likely impact. “They have gone too far, Peter.” She raised one of the worst and put it down again. “Our friends will be as indignant as you are, but even those who are mere acquaintances will recognize these as outrageous rubbish. The viciousness of the lies may work in our favor by garnering us the sympathy of Society’s leaders. After all, if people can be made outcasts on the basis of provable fictions, nobody is safe.”
Peter shook his head, doubtful. However, on the drive through Hyde Park and at the theater that evening, many people approached with invitations, compliments on Arial’s gown or her mask, and even outright statements of support. Even one of the patronesses of hallowed Almack’s sought them out to assure Arial that she would be sent tickets.
