The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding (4 page)

I swept my skirts over for modesty, though I couldn’t dismiss the feeling that the time for modesty had since passed. Without further word, Jacob stood.

His nightshirt fell, blessedly, to cover his slick, partially turgid member and damaged parts. He advanced on Arthur with such an air of danger, the skin prickled on my neck.

I had not seen the brothers together for many years; as I have noted, they are not a close family. There is often an unhappy rivalry between the first born and second born sons within families of the peerage. The first born lives knowing his entitlement to the lands and title; the second lives in the macabre hope that something may happen to his older sibling so he may one day become heir. It is a sad thing, and something I very much wished my gentle Jacob did not have to concern himself with. Yet, for all this unhappiness, the family resemblance was plain to see. The brothers were of the same height, powerfully-built men, but where Jacob’s physique was honed to perfection from riding and hunting, Arthur’s had devolved into soft folds of flesh that were ill-contained by his waistcoat and breeches.

‘Did you mean to insult my wife?’ Jacob growled.

Arthur’s moist lips contorted into the parody of smile. ‘Why, brother, no. I had come to Fielding Place to see if you faired ill after your accident. I find, however, my concerns are misplaced. For I have unbelievably witnessed, with my own eyes, you in rut with your wife. Hardly the actions of a maimed or incomplete man,’ he said bitterly.

My face burned at his words.

‘How long to do you propose to stay at Fielding?’ Jacob barked.

‘Oh, having seen what I have seen, I feel no great need to linger over-long. Perhaps a day or so, no longer.’

‘Then kindly remove yourself from my room,’ Jacob retorted, his tone leaving no room for discussion or argument.

I watched, through partially closed lids, Arthur’s face contort and its colour deepen.

‘Really, Jacob, there is no need to be so sharp with me,’ Arthur replied before turning and sweeping out of the room.

At first we lingered in silence, until Jacob broke the moment with an abrupt and pleased laugh. ‘I cannot begin to tell you…’ He paused, and walked carefully back to the bedside.

I stared up at him as he grasped my face between his two large hands and drew my face to his. ‘How relieved I am…’

He kissed me then, hungrily, passionately; in a way he hadn’t since the dreadful day my horse had kicked him. I yielded to his passion quickly, returning his kiss with fervour.

‘I had no doubts,’ I whispered when he pulled away. Yet what I said did not hold the ring of truth. I still had one little doubt.

‘I shall call Bolton to dress, I shall not lay abed any longer!’ Jacob smiled at me. ‘I am assuredly blessed to have you as my wife, for it was your actions that have coaxed me from my stupor.’

‘Not a stupor,’ I chided him gently. ‘Your injury was a fearful one and you were afraid, there is no shame in that. Mayhap your wife is just a wanton wench who could stand to be without her husband not a moment longer. Mayhap it was simple selfishness on my part.’

‘Whatever your reasons, Janie, I thank you for them.’ He kissed me again, and I laughed with him. After a moment he rang for Bolton, and I retired from his sick rooms. Though I smiled, relieved and grateful to have my exuberant husband returned to me, I knew as I walked to my own rooms that all was not quite right. For as I walked, betwixt my thighs lay the remnants of my excitement. I was moist there, certainly, but not as I should be. I knew without doubt that though my husband had reached his pleasure, he had not done so completely, for my thighs nor my sex held evidence of my husband spilling seed.

***

It was our duty as hosts and family to eat with Arthur, though it was a courtesy Arthur did not deserve. Had Jacob not been in attendance, I would have forgone the displeasure, as I had little appetite. Yet I joined the gentlemen for a late dinner for my husband’s benefit alone. Perhaps the casual observer may think me unkind for my short treatment of the man, but events that evening conspired to prove my initial dislike of the man was most worthy.

We were sitting in the dining room, the silence tight and uncomfortable. Arthur was plainly in his cups. I knew not how much he’d had since the altercation in the sick rooms, but the slurring of his words and the sloppiness of his manner indicated much.

‘You look well this evening, sister,’ he commented, and had an indulgent puff on his cigar.

‘It is not the time for smoking, Arthur,’ Jacob chastised. ‘We tend to smoke after the meal, as is proper.’

Arthur released a dramatic sigh. ‘Can you not indulge me this once? I shall be away in the morning, and you will not have to suffer my presence, nor my meal-time smoking any longer.’ He puffed again.

Jacob’s mouth closed and his lip fell into a thin line, but he did not speak on the matter further.

‘I took a turn about the grounds earlier,’ Arthur continued. ‘I must congratulate you on your new greenhouses, they are very fine. However, I found myself in the kitchen garden…’

I stared at him.
What manner of gentleman visits the kitchen gardens?

Jacob arched an eyebrow but said naught in response.

‘I must say, my good man, you have some very comely maids in your employ. Lucky devil. I must say the woman who keeps house for me in London is a dry, mean old thing. Nothing like the ripe little wench I discovered upon my walk today.’

I stiffened, and my mind flew to Esther. Had Arthur focussed his inappropriate attentions on her? I thought not, but her manner as she’d dressed me for dinner was cool and distant, much more so than I am used to. As I harboured this thought I glanced at Simpson, one of our younger footmen, and his usual ridiculously expressive face was a rare mask of neutrality.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ Jacob asked, and took a fortifying sip of his wine. His blue eyes had taken on a peculiarly cold shine.

‘There was a young lass from the kitchens vigorously picking herbs,’ he chortled. ‘You should have seen the way she looked at me.’

I glanced down at my bread, trying to ignore the conversation as a lady should.

Jacob however took his jibe and retorted, ‘Pray tell, brother, how was it that she looked at you?’ His tone was frosty.

Arthur laughed. ‘The way your wife looks at you, I’d wager.’

I felt the heat burn on my cheeks at the insinuation behind the comment and picked at the bread beside my plate in sheer awkwardness.

‘I do not think…’ Jacob began, anger suffusing his face.

‘No!’ cried Arthur, and he lurched to his feet, holding his butter knife as one might a weapon. ‘No, no one could look at
me
like your wife looks at
you
, could they, brother? Not fat, lazy Arthur…the useless second son.’ A partially masticated lump of bread flew from his lips and landed on the high polish of the table.

I took a worried glance at Jacob, but he remained seated. ‘Arthur,’ he spoke, ‘you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing and you’re embarrassing yourself. Sit down immediately.’

‘Don’t know what I’m doing?’ he howled. ‘Your comely little maid didn’t say that while I fucked her.’

I gasped aloud, and Simpson the footman lurched where he stood.

‘My staff are not here for your entertainment, and I will not ask you again to refrain from such vulgarity in the presence of my wife.’

‘Oh yes, your wife…’ Arthur leered at me with his small sparkling eyes. ‘Likes a good fucking as much as a scullery maid, doesn’t she?’ He gulped his wine.

Jacob stood to defend my honour, but Arthur continued regardless. ‘Seeing your wife mounting you made me as hard as rock. Can’t blame a man for taking his ease on a round-arsed maid after witnessing a spectacle like that.’

‘Get out.’ Jacob’s voice resounded with fury. ‘You’re no gentleman, get out!’

Arthur sighed, more food dribbled from his slack lip. ‘As you wish, Milord.’ He offered my husband a lazy bow and began to stumble from the dining room.

‘Simpson, my good man, assist my brother to his carriage please.’

With a curt nod, the young footman began to steer Arthur out.

‘You can’t expect me to accept with graciousness the unfairness of it all…’ Arthur bellowed as he exited the room.

Neither of us spoke, for a long moment, until the sounds of Arthur’s departure faded into the chill of the evening.

‘I must go and check Mary Anne, for certainly it is her to whom Arthur referred,’ I said, and swept to my feet.

‘Mary Anne?’ Jacob asked, draining the remainder of his glass.

‘You know, she’s Bolton’s cousin’s daughter. We hired her as scullery maid. She’s a little simple, and unlikely to be employed elsewhere. Poor child.’

Jacob looked blank. He paid little heed to the housekeeping staff as that was largely our housekeeper’s and my responsibility.

‘Never mind,’ I replied, ‘I must check on her. It really will be a scandal if Arthur has abused her.’

Jacob’s face darkened. ‘Yes, of course, Janie, go. Whilst you are downstairs, please tell Mrs Bates not to send up the pudding. I have quite lost my appetite.’

I turned around to face my husband. ‘I as well. She may share it amongst the servants.’

I left Jacob then, and hurried downstairs. As I stepped into the servants’ quarters I was surprised by the silence.

‘Mrs Bates?’ I called, and continued towards the servants’ dining area.

‘Milady! Why did you not ring?’ Mrs Bates chided as she rushed to greet me and the remainder of the staff rose and silently acknowledged me.

‘Pray, where is Mary Anne?’ I asked softly as I scanned the table.

The faces there hardened.

‘She’s in the kitchen, Milady, watching over the pudding,’ Esther replied in lieu of Mrs Bates.

‘Excuse me,’ I replied, and swept from the servants’ dining area into the kitchen. I had not often occasion to visit the kitchen, but it was and remains a place of magic. Pots bubbled and the aroma of cooking never ceased to stimulate something within me.

‘Mary Anne?’ I called, closing the door firmly behind me.

There was a startled shriek and the girl stood from the stool on which she’d been resting. ‘Milady!’ she cried, her round face reddening. Her hands flew to her cap in a gesture of unmistakeable alarm.

‘I have come to inquire as to your wellbeing,’ I began, eying her carefully for any sign of discomfort or shame.

Despite her simple mind, I could see why Arthur had found her so comely. Previous to this moment I had never taken much consideration of the scullery maids; they were generally under the jurisdiction of Mrs Bates and it was a rare occasion indeed that I even happened to see one. I do recall I had personally agreed to Mary Anne’s employ at the behest of Bolton, who’d asked cap in hand if we may consider taking her on. Her simple nature made gainful employment a challenge — so I had agreed, and I was pleased to note she had been an excellent addition to the staff.

I studied her. Mary Anne was a well-rounded girl, her scullery maid uniform stretched over a generous bosom, and there was no denying the ripeness of her, despite the modesty of her uniform. Her hair was tightly restricted by her cap, but her cheeks were still flaming and there was a glistening of her eye that bespoke of something ill.

‘It has come to my attention that you met upon Lord Arthur this afternoon.’

The heat in the girl’s cheeks flared once more. ‘Please, Milady, don’t listen to what them other servants say. I love ’im,’ she whispered.

I could scarce restrain a groan.

‘An’ ‘e loves me,’ she added.

Groan I did.

‘My dear girl,’ I began, though I knew I did not need ask, ‘did he touch you?’

She stammered. ‘Yes, Milady, but I touched ’im too. I wanted to… Don’t think ill of Lord Arthur, please, Milady. ‘E loves me, ’e does. We’ll get married one day, ‘e said so.’

I closed my eyes and prayed to the Good Lord for some strength. ‘It was a wicked thing for him to do, and a wicked thing for you to allow it.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Mary Anne shrieked. ‘Them in there been callin’ me names, not you too!’

I did not deign to respond for a moment, the simple girl was shaking in fury.

‘ ’E’ll take me back to London wiv him!’

‘Mary Anne, listen to yourself. Lord Arthur can no more marry you than he could…a…’ My voice faded, unwilling to insult her further. ‘He has just this moment taken a carriage and left Fielding Place. I’m sorry, but he has already gone. I am ashamed to say it, but Lord Arthur had no intentions of honouring you with his hand.’

If indeed it was an honour
.

Mary Anne let out an anguished cry.

‘Then I’ll go find ’im,’ she screamed, and rushed for the door.

‘Mary Anne!’ I cried, bracing myself to disallow her exit. ‘Stop it at once!’

She attempted to scramble past me, but I stayed her off.

‘I gave ’im my cunny!’ she sobbed, collapsing against me. ‘He asked and I gave it, and ‘e promised me! I got to go find ’im…’

She heaved a tremendous sob, and I gingerly stroked her back.

‘Hush now, it will be all right.’

So long as you are not with child
.

The thought made my stomach churn.

‘Mrs Bates!’ I called through the door. ‘Call Bolton, and have him assist his cousin to her room.’

Mrs Bates entered, her face stern, and lips tight. She stared in deep disapproval at the sobbing Mary Anne. Personally, I thought she would be better reserving the reproach for Arthur.

Yet I knew she could not, or would not. Servants should not make judgements on the family they served. No matter how vile certain members may be. I suspected greatly that the staff of Fielding Place verily loathed Arthur as I did. I felt a burning anger then; should not Arthur be reprimanded? Yet, no crime had been committed, had it? Alas, I felt as though it had. What manner of man treats a simple girl so?

I could see other members of staff watching as Mrs Bates ushered Mary Anne towards Bolton. Many glanced away, their faces masks.

What must they think?

Late that night, as I curled beside my husband in our bed, I could hear the faint echoing lamentations of Mary Anne as I tried to find sleep.