It was over. She wanted to scream out in rage at him and suppressed a nervous shiver that rattled her insides. She did not know whether to laugh or cry, only that she felt dirty and degraded and she had not achieved a thing! She would have to go through all this again when he was more - more what? Rested? Sober? She had been led to believe that too much drink could dull a man’s desire. But Noah’s desire was - was - it seemed to her to be quite out of control. She almost believed it was justice for her deception.
He breathed deeply and his stilled frame squashed her into the smelly bed. She tried to wriggle away from him but he was too heavy and he must have fallen asleep, for a few minutes later he suddenly gave a snort and woke up. He had dribbled wetly on her gown. Lord help her! How was she to endure this?
‘Shall we undress, Noah?’ she ventured.
He picked up the blanket from the floor and threw it on the bed. ‘I’ll go out while you do. You bewitch me with your body, Mrs Bilton. Make sure you cover yourself well.’
‘But, Noah, I am your wife now. You may take me at your pleasure.’
‘You will not speak like a harlot in my house! Would you drain my energy through fornication?’
‘No, sir.’ She got up, finished making the bed, wrapped herself in her nightgown and cap and crawled between the sheets. She would need more than lavender for this chamber. And more than a strong resolve with Noah. She supposed there’d be another chance tomorrow night when, perhaps, he might not be so anxious.
The following morning he rose early without disturbing her and she was wakened only by the sound of him sluicing his face and neck at the washstand and drawing on his clothes. She feigned sleep until he had gone out to his cows, and then rose to dress and light the kitchen range for hot water and breakfast. It was Sunday and she was cheered by the prospect of church. Noah took Quinta and her mother to the village in his trap and she reflected that this had once been one of her dreams. It had been a childish notion, she realised, and now she was ashamed if it. Nonetheless, she and Laura enjoyed their outing and the conversations afterwards in the churchyard.
‘Miss Wilkins, how well you look this morning.’
‘Oh, do you think so, Mrs Bilton? My brother made me change my bonnet for this plain old thing.’
‘Mr Wilkins gave a fine sermon today.’
‘Well, I wish he would not keep preaching about the virtue of marriage. It irritates me so.’
Quinta avoided answering this and smiled. ‘Miss Wilkins, would you do me the honour of calling to take tea with us one afternoon? We should so much appreciate your company.’
Beatrice raised her eyebrows. ‘Me? Take tea at Bilton Farm?’ ‘Mother and I have further plans for improvement and we should welcome your advice.’ Quinta kept smiling while Miss Wilkins considered this.
‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll come on Wednesday.’
‘We shall look forward to it.’
Noah called her to the trap and she said goodbye.
Quinta had hoped that her second night with Noah would result in a successful union, but he did not retire until long after she was asleep, and this set the pattern for their week. His working day was long, broken only by meals that she prepared and he ate silently. After tea he returned to his fields and his stock until nightfall and came to their chamber exhausted. Fearful that any approaches she might make in the bedchamber would anger him, if she wasn’t asleep, she pretended to be.
He did not wake her and the realisation dawned that procreation activity for Noah was the preserve of Saturday night when there was less work the following day. He regarded further indulgence as weakening and sinful in the eyes of the Lord.
The following Saturday, after tea, she brought down her mother’s meal tray and sat at the kitchen table patiently. Noah reclined in his moth-eaten chair and nursed a tankard of ale.
‘Shall I read the Bible to you?’ she suggested.
‘Tomorrow is the day for that.’
‘Perhaps a walk? It is a fine evening with a hunter’s moon.’
‘I have been out there all day.’
‘I’ll get my sewing, then.’
‘’Tis Saturday. You will do your duty.’
‘Very well.’ She stood up to go to their chamber.
‘Sit down. I shall go first and prepare myself for bed. You will come when I call you.’ He picked up the lamp and left her in the fading light.
She obeyed him, reasoning that he wanted it in this way as there would be less haste, less fumbling if he was in his nightgown already. However, if anything, their encounter was worse, even though their chamber was cleaner and smelled sweeter after a week of her attentions. She had asked Seth to move in a wardrobe cupboard from a disused dressing room so that they could hang up their clothes. She had found a dressing screen too, but had not had time to clean it yet and she was obliged to take off her gown in front of him as he reclined against the pillows.
‘Make haste, woman,’ he grumbled. ‘Leave your gown on the chair.’
She pulled on her nightgown as quickly as she could, but from the sounds he was making in his throat she knew she was too late. It was all over for Noah before she slid into bed. Quinta was in despair. Was it always to be like this? He had no control over his husbandly desires and was spent before he could achieve a union with her.
‘You are a witch, Mrs Bilton,’ he growled, ‘working your evil magic here. You have cast a spell on me and I waste my seed.’
She did not know what to say or do. She had searched everywhere for a solution. She had discovered some old and moulding books in the farmhouse that offered remedies for every ailment, including potions for gentlemen to aid the act of procreation, but nothing for Noah’s affliction or even a mention of it.
She might have asked the village midwife but dared not go to her yet. She had been a wife for only a week and the woman might recognise the signs of being with child as her mother had. She gazed at her reflection in the window glass and wondered how they could tell.
‘I am not evil, Noah. You are too anxious—’
‘I have told you before that you will not argue with me. I shall not have a shrew for my wife.’
‘I’m sorry. I only mean to help.’
‘You will help by behaving with modesty at all times and not flaunting yourself before me in this manner!’
‘But I was—’ She stopped. She must not make him angry with her. She thought perhaps it was because he was an old bachelor who had never had an experience with a lady before. The excitement was too much for him. She smoothed his brow with her hand and said, ‘My sweet, it is early and we have the whole night. Will you rest awhile and try again?’
‘Again? You would wear me down so that I cannot do my work?’
‘Of course not. But we are husband and wife. We may enjoy each other, may we not?’
‘Do not talk like a whore! You are already behaving as one! Fornication saps a man’s strength. Would you have me expire from exhaustion?’
‘No, sir, of course not. But is it not my wifely duty to give you pleasure?’
‘The words of a Jezebel!’ he snapped. ‘You wish to make me a slave to your body; to weaken my will and remove my reason! You will not do this to me. You will mend your ways.’
Quinta was shocked into silence. Noah had many traditional ideas about life and clearly anything that even hinted at fornication was an abomination to him. She reflected on the irony of her situation. Were she not so anxious to deceive him she would be whooping for joy that he could not fulfil his husbandly duties with her. But the weeks were passing and their vows were still not sealed in the marriage bed. She passed her hand over her small belly. There was still time.
‘Noah, dearest husband, how are we to have the children you desire?’ she asked quietly. ‘Perhaps you will consult with the apothecary in town?’
‘And have him know my wife will not be a wife to me? You would insult me so!’
‘He will advise you, dearest. The Dispensary has mixtures for all ailments.’
This made his anger worse. ‘This is no ailment of mine! This is your doing and you will see that it does not happen again.’
‘But - but it is not me!’ She snapped her mouth closed. She realised that Noah was angry with her because he could not accept his own failing. She added, ‘But how, dearest?’
‘Remove your curse on me! Burn those books with their wicked potions! Book reading is not for womenfolk. It turns them into witches and whores and I will not have it in my house.’
Her despair deepened yet she could not talk to her mother about this. To ease her mind she had told Laura that all was well with Noah, that she had no cause to worry as his demands were not excessive. The latter, she reflected with a heavy heart, was true for he always fell asleep quickly at night, rising at dawn to help Seth with the milking.
Her days were filled with her duties as mistress of Bilton farmhouse. Miss Wilkins visited as promised and took a lively interest in her plans to restore the drawing room to its former elegance. The dining room was equally spacious, with room enough for a small party to dance, and Miss Wilkins filled her head with ideas about assemblies.
However, despite warmth and nourishment, Laura’s health continued to decline. She did what she could to help her daughter but was forced to rest through the afternoon and she retired to bed with her medicine soon after tea. Quinta’s concern for her mother distracted her from her own dilemma. The cough became worse and she moved an old couch into her mother’s bedchamber to be near her through the night. When they discussed it, Noah thought this a sensible solution.
‘I should like to ask the physician from town to visit Mother,’ she asked.
‘Waste of money,’ he replied. ‘He can’t cure the consumption. ’
‘He might recommend another mixture for her.’
‘I’ll get more laudanum sent over for her.’
‘But if the physician calls you may speak with him, too.You could ask him if he has a potion for you - for - for Saturday night.’
‘I shall do no such thing. It will right itself soon enough, when you have learned to be more chaste.’
Quinta wondered how long that would take.
Chapter 20
The autumn was cold and damp mists seeped into every crack. However, Miss Wilkins continued to call and take afternoon tea with cake in their drawing room. Laura enjoyed her visits immensely and talked of balls and parties she had known at the Hall, much to Miss Wilkins’ fascination. Quinta washed the dust off delicate china and silver that had not been used in years to add to the occasion.
After one such pleasant interlude, as Miss Wilkins left for the vicarage, a messenger on horseback arrived at the front door of the farmhouse with a letter. Quinta’s heart leaped. Patrick had promised to write to her! Had he somehow heard of her marriage and move to Bilton Farm? Oh, how exciting to have news of him!
‘Will you step inside for refreshment?’ she asked as she handed the courier his fee and took the thick folded paper from him. Her features sagged with disappointment. It was sealed with red wax and addressed to Noah.
‘Thank you, ma’am, I’ll not dismount, but a swallow of spirit taken in the saddle will be most welcome. The winds are bitter across these hills and I am quite chilled.’
She gave him some of Noah’s best brandy and asked where the letter was from.
‘It came on the post from Crosswell in the High Peak.’ Quinta watched him gulp the brandy and gallop away. Noah hailed from the High Peak in the next county. She propped the letter in front of his tankard at the kitchen table and prepared the liver and onions that she would fry for his tea.
He examined the seal by the light of the kitchen window, slid a grubby finger underneath it and unfolded the thick paper. As he read she saw that it brought pleasing news and she waited patiently for him to tell her. He did not disappoint in this respect.
‘Well, Mrs Bilton, news of my improving status has reached Crosswell. I am invited to join a shoot on the High Peak moors.’
Quinta glanced at her mother with raised eyebrows and asked, ‘Will you accept?’
‘I shall. Seth will oversee the rest of the ploughing. I shall be back in time to take my geese and bullocks to the December markets. Town butchers pay good prices for fat stock before Christmas. Make preparations to leave.’
‘All of us?’
‘Indeed. A married man must show off his new wife.’
But just to be sure, Quinta asked, ‘I may take Mother as well?’
‘You will need her to help pass time with other ladies.’ He stopped to think. ‘You must take a fancy gown for dinner. Mother, too.’
‘For dinner?’
‘They eat their dinner late after shooting, sometimes as late as five o’clock, and make a great show of it.’
Laura leaned towards her. ‘I know all about what to do, dear. I used to help the ladies’ maids at the Hall when they had parties.’
Quinta noticed how her mother’s eyes were sparkling at her memories. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Where shall we stay?’
‘We shall lodge with the farmer who was my landlord before I came here. His good wife is very well connected and will entertain the womenfolk while we are out shooting. You may even be honoured by an invitation to take tea with a titled lady.’
Now Quinta’s own eyes sparkled. There would be other gentlemen farmers’ wives and daughters to meet, and Mother would enjoy their refined company. But she feared the journey would be long and cold in this chilly autumn.
‘Shall we travel there by the post?’ she asked.
‘Post? Not across the Peaks! Packhorses take in the stores and supplies. We shall ride all the way.’
‘Ride? Can we not take a cart of any kind for Mother?’
‘The tracks are steep and there are rocky streams to cross. Only packhorses can get through.’
‘But Mother is not strong enough to make a journey on horseback.’
‘You may have the best side saddle, Mother,’ Noah offered. ‘What do you say?’