The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding (2 page)

It was nearing six o’clock that evening when my irritation and gnawing concern could no longer be contained. I had waited long enough, and later realised I had waited far
too
long. Even if Jacob had decided to take my mare to the farriery, the farrier should have returned him to the Estate by now.

I stood by the sitting room window, a glass of wine in hand, staring out over the darkened driveway and the parklands that surrounded Fielding Place. I rang the bell for Bolton, my husband’s valet.

‘My husband should have been returned by now,’ I said, when Bolton arrived in the sitting room with a graceful sweeping bow. ‘Send men to search for him. We parted ways down by the brook. Lolly had become unshod and he was to walk her home. I thought mayhap he had taken her directly to the farrier, but he is so late I fear some disaster has befallen him. He should have returned some hours past.’

‘Yes, indeed, Milady. I shall take the footmen and groomsmen to search the grounds immediately.’

With a curt bow, Bolton left. I stood there, for how long I am uncertain, though the mantle clock ticked relentlessly, reminding me that every minute was one without my husband by my side. I tried to bide my time in the nursery with our daughters, but my presence seemed to excite them and irritate Nanny as they should have been abed.

Thus I wandered the house like a ghost, restlessly awaiting word.

Our meal grew cold as I refused to partake of it without Jacob’s company. Instead I draped a shawl about my shoulders and, despite Esther’s chiding, I stood in the driveway of the house staring into the darkness, watching the men’s lanterns as they scoured the grounds and woodlands for my husband and lamed horse.

‘Och, Milady, come inside, you’ll freeze out here,’ Esther coaxed.

My stomach was in a bind, and I shook her off. It was at that very moment a low and horrific cry drew close to house.

The memory of it still stabs at my heart to this day.

‘Jacob!’ I screamed, for I knew his voice better than any. Wildly, I began to run in the direction of the sound. My silk slippers were soaked to the toes as I rushed breathlessly over the lawns, the evening dew drenching the hem of my gown.

The animal cry was closer now. ‘Jacob!’ I screamed again, and I could see lamplight heading towards me. ‘
Jacob!
’

The chill night air rushed past me in my haste, sending my hair askew. Suddenly I was caught in someone’s strong arms.

‘Milady!’ It was Bolton. ‘You’d best be inside,’ he said, his voice tight and frightened.

I looked up into the valet’s face, but it was shadowed and I was unable to discern his expression.

‘Release me! Where is he, where is my husband?’ I cried and writhed from his grip.

‘Milady, please!’ Bolton’s voice was raw, and in the gloom I could see four men carrying something —
someone
.

‘Jacob!’ I shrieked and ran. My heart pounded so fast I thought I may be ill. It
was
Jacob, but in the darkness his face was contorted with pain. His golden hair was tangled and knotted around his head. I reached and stroked his forehead, not realising until then how severely my hands trembled.

‘My love,’ I whispered.

His eyes flickered open at my voice. His eyes were unfathomable, and blinded by pain. ‘Janie.’ His voice was hoarse.

‘Milady.’ It was Bolton again. ‘We must get him inside and with a physician.’

My heart was stricken. ‘What happened to him?’ I sobbed, my throat so tight I could scarce form the words.

‘The horse has kicked him,’ ventured one of the footmen.

They began to carry Jacob up the garden to the house and I rushed beside him, trying to keep a hand on him, so that in some small way I could comfort him in his pain as he had with me on each birthing of our children. His cries were terrible and frightening. As Bolton departed on a madly galloping palfrey to get the physician, and the maids prepared a sick room for him, I stayed by his side. I knew not then the extent of his injury, or its impact on our lives.

Chapter 2

Jacob’s injuries were horrific. I can scarce remember those first few days. In his moments of lucidity, between administrations of laudanum, we discovered Lolly had been reluctant to walk and so Jacob had gone to look at her back hoof once more. It was then she bucked and kicked — striking my beloved husband brutally in the crotch. So severe was his injury that I remember the physician suggesting the amputation of all his male parts.

At this, Jacob had protested vehemently — though he was scarcely in a frame of mind to do so. The physician warned us that if we left his damaged parts, they may fester and kill him.

I was, of course, forbidden to see the extent of the damage, as if I had never seen those parts before. The physician assured me his injury was most shocking.

‘I shall not burden you to be married to a eunuch!’ Jacob growled, his face wan and creased with agony. ‘They shall not take my cock, or my balls! I’d rather die.’

Then I had cried, ‘I could not bear to lose you.’

‘Could you bear losing my cock then? Forever chained to a man who cannot please you?’

‘I shan’t care for such things, so long as you are always by my side.’ I sobbed, for at the time I spoke, I’d never uttered words so true.

I saw the tears glisten in his eyes. ‘No, Janie, I shall not have it done. I am a man, and shall die as one.’

Die he very nearly did.

Infection set in, and he became desperately ill. He did not linger long in sensibility for many days, moaning and thrashing in fever throws. Yet, at length, as if by some miracle, he began to heal though all was far from well.

It became apparent after a time that his manhood was still intact and I was grateful. Though of his plums, the news was less favourable. For weeks, Jacob hid himself from me. Gone was our customary closeness. Since our marriage we had always shared a bed, but from that day, Jacob retired alone to his sick rooms rather than joining me in our marital bed. How I missed him. Certainly, a tear still stings my eyes upon remembering those dark days.

The wicked smile and genial spirit had left Jacob, and all but a shallow husk remained.

For one long month after the accident the situation seemed untenable, made more so by the untimely arrival of Jacob’s younger brother, Arthur.

To be charitable, one could describe Arthur as a man of good breeding, grace and wit. To be honest, one would describe him as rude, homely and a bore. I find him loathsome and tolerate him only for Jacob’s benefit, nothing else.

‘Sister,’ he oozed upon my greeting. ‘Terrible news, terrible news.’

I stared at him, his blond hair askew from the removal of his hat; his lips seemed to have taken on the appearance of twin pink slugs.

‘Indeed,’ I agreed stiffly.

There was an ill-timed and lengthy pause in conversation.

‘To what do we owe this visit, Arthur?’ I asked when I could stand the silence no longer.

‘Can a brother not visit upon his ailing brother and his wife? Mayhap I wish to see my nieces — such lovely little girls.’

I disliked his reference to ‘ailing’, for in truth at this time Jacob was healing, and healing well.

I could feel my brow arch. ‘Truly?’

‘Indeed, how is dear Jacob and how are…’ He hesitated. ‘Er…’

‘Lucy and Cassandra?’ I offered.

He nodded enthusiastically.

I withdrew my hand from his clammy clasp — oftentimes Arthur lingered upon my hands and the gesture had verily come to make my skin crawl.

‘Our girls are well indeed. My thanks for your felicitations. My lord husband is improving daily. Yesterday he took a turn about the gardens with me,’ I said with more pleasure than I felt.

There was another lengthy pause.

‘I gather you did not receive my correspondence then?’ Arthur asked, his eyes, though the same blue as Jacob’s were small and hard.

‘Correspondence? Why no, we have received nothing from you. So you understand it is quite a surprise to find you here, with your…’ My eyes lingered on the luggage in the hallway. ‘Baggage.’

Arthur nodded. ‘Quite. I had, er…heard of Jacob’s injury. I am most anxious to see how he fairs.’

Odious, snivelling worm!
I thought to myself. He no more wanted to see Jacob than I wished to see him!

‘As I said, he improves daily,’ I replied.

‘Excellent, just excellent.’ Arthur nodded, and I watched those small eyes dart around the hallway, as if sizing and costing the vases and paintings that decorated our fine entranceway, so that he could gamble them away at some future date.

‘Arthur, though your visit is testament to your care and concern for your brother, I hesitate to say it is an unnecessary one. Jacob is well, and I feel I could not possibly hold you here in Berkshire, under the pretence he is ailing, when so clearly he is not,’ I began. ‘So you need not fear a lengthy visit. A gentleman such as yourself must have a full social calendar, and the country charm of Berkshire pales to the excitement of London. You must be eager to return to the city, now you have ascertained that your brother is not in mortal danger.’

His cold eyes met mine. ‘Your concern for my social calendar is touching, but I must insist.’

I could scarce contain a sigh. I knew I was being rude, that I should have asked him into the sitting room and offered whisky and have the footmen take his luggage. Yet, I delayed.

I knew the true reason Arthur had returned to Fielding Place. He could no more hide his intent than he could the reddened lump of a nose that wallowed in the centre of his face.

I could see Bolton standing stiffly beside the doorman, reluctant or unwilling to leave me alone with Arthur. I caught his eye just briefly, but our silent intercourse was interrupted by Arthur’s continuation of unwanted conversation.

‘My good man, Bolton isn’t it?’ He clicked his fingers as if Bolton was no more than a hound. ‘If you would be so kind as to take my luggage to the guest rooms for me. Lady Fielding is quite right, I have no desire to linger long in Berkshire, but am weary of the day’s travel.’

‘Of course you are, how remiss of me,’ I replied, stung by his gall. ‘Bolton, if you would be so kind as to get the footmen to take the luggage.’

‘Yes, Milady.’ Bolton nodded and left to organise the removal of Arthur’s baggage.

‘Please, come into the sitting room. I shall ring for refreshment.’

It was intolerably awkward in the sitting room with Arthur.

‘Is my brother abed?’ he asked, taking a sip of our aged whisky and exhaling cigar smoke with long languid breaths.

‘Yes.’ I felt myself blush. I did not wish to discuss my husband’s injured manhood with Arthur, nor anyone.

‘How often is he abed? Does he rise for long periods?’

‘Arthur, please. It would be improper for me to discuss this with you.’

‘And yet, dear Jane, it is my right to know, as his heir…’ Arthur said.

I stilled and my civility fled. ‘Your lack of discretion and sensibility truly astounds me.’

Arthur appeared to be taken aback by the sudden sharp words, but it was affectation only, I am certain.

‘Dear sister, you wound me.’ He smiled and I noted with relish how imperfect were his teeth. ‘My bosom bleeds with this inferred accusation.’ He offered a licentious grin which sickened my very stomach.

‘As his heir,’ I acceded, ‘I can understand your concern. I shall however inform you duly that Fielding Place remains solely my husband’s domain. Jacob has survived his accident, and is incapacitated neither physically nor mentally. You need not fear the responsibility of inheriting the Barony, just now.’

‘Words of a frightened woman,’ Arthur swiftly rebuffed. ‘I should very much like to see how he fairs with mine own eyes. There has been much speculation on the nature of his injury and its repercussions for the line of inheritance.’

‘Has there?’ my traitorous voice trembled.

‘Why yes, there has been much discussion on whether his injury has left him unable to sire his own heir. You have only daughters, so I remain the next in line for the title, a tenuous hold at best. So, you must understand how anxious I am to discover the truth behind this speculation. If Jacob cannot sire a son, then Fielding shall
certainly
be mine. This fact shall improve my prospects of an advantageous marriage immeasurably in London.’ He paused and puffed on the cigar once more.

‘You beast!’ I whispered. ‘How dare you speak so in front of me?’

Yet in truth, Arthur only spoke the fears that Jacob and I both harboured.

It was true, the horrific swelling and infection of my husband’s manhood was much reduced, and though the physician spoke of left testicular
atrophy
I was uncertain of its significance. It was a dark, dreadful thought. What if he could no longer get me with child? Our daughters could not inherit, and there was no one else left to pass the title to. Yet the thought of Arthur taking Fielding Place as his own was untenable. He was a rake, a gambler and philanderer. He thought nothing of whittling away his allowance on opium dens and whores. Thrice in two years Jacob had been called to London to ease the disquiet caused by Arthur’s libertine manners.

‘Forgive me, Jane, if I may just speak with Jacob myself — ’

‘He is abed,’ I cried. ‘You may not.’

The last thing my darling husband needed was his odious brother questioning his manhood. Heavens, I was loath to breach the subject, and it was a subject dear to my heart.

‘Mayhap in the morning?’ Arthur pressed.

It was all I could do to incline my head graciously, before sweeping from the room.

This visit, I realise now, was the inception of Jacob’s current plan. A most shocking plan, to ensure Arthur will not inherit Fielding.

Chapter 3

Allow me, however, to elaborate on the devilish circumstance that has spawned my husband’s latest notion.

After my altercation with Arthur that day, I spoke to Bolton briefly about providing Arthur with an adequate dinner that evening, for I had no appetite to speak of and could no more stomach sitting with him for a meal than eat pigs swill.

I hurried to my husband’s rooms to inform him of the evening’s events.