The Private Affairs Of Lady Jane Fielding (8 page)

There, I had said it, and the men were still. The only sounds in the carriage were the muffled footfall of the horses as we made our way to Stanton.

Eventually, I gathered the courage to look up at Jacob’s face. Unsure of what I would see there. Resentment? Anger? Acceptance? I could not judge. He caught my gaze, and smiled slowly.

‘It is the only way to ensure the safety of our family and the title.’

‘I know this,’ I replied, then looked up at Matthew. His eyes, such an attractive deep blue, stared at me in bewilderment. He licked his lips, and his large hands clenched tightly in his lap.

He said nothing for the remainder of the journey to Stanton.

We arrived at the party unfashionably late, and it seemed in full revelry. The gardens, I must say, were beautifully finished, and the renovations to the buildings added a charm they had previously lacked. As our carriage was taken by the groomsmen, we were directed to a large white marquee where refreshments were being served. Jacob was occupied introducing Matthew to those who had not made his acquaintance. This left me free to observe the party attendants in relative peace, and struggle silently with my own mystifying thoughts.

As I followed my husband around the party, inattentively listening to banter about hunting, I found myself facing the young Lady Catherine Bexley. I curtseyed and greeted her, though I know little of her. Pretty to a fault, she seems rather timid to me. If I am not mistaken the girl has been married only a month or so. Her husband, Lord Joseph Bexley, is an acquaintance of Jacob, and is many years Catherine’s senior. It is perhaps kindest if I describe the gentleman as an imposing figure, and one most proper. Else there is little kind to say about him at all. I almost pity her; a wedding at the best of times is ironically both the happiest and most terrifying day in a gentlewoman’s life, and to be married to Lord Bexley! England has never seen such propriety. The man is so damnably rigid one suspects he may shatter if he were to mistakenly bump something.

I smiled at Lady Catherine during a lull in our conversation, and turned to glance once more at her husband. He was perhaps an inch or two taller than both Jacob and Matthew, who were fine tall men. He was broad, handsome I suppose, if one likes a brooding visage. Then, may the good Lord forgive me, my eyes brushed past his breeches, and there was no mistaking the magnitude of his maleness.

I felt that wretched heat swell in my breast and I fanned myself furiously.

It was then the young Lady Bexley drew me back into conversation. ‘How fare your children, Lady Fielding?’ she asked, though I am most certain it was politeness that urged her to ask, rather than genuine interest in the subject.

I was certain she would have had word of Jacob’s injury. Was she inquiring into that area? I wondered. I felt myself frown slightly. ‘Well, thank you. And you? Does marriage suit you?’

For a brief moment, I saw a shadow pass over her youthful features, before she smiled. ‘Quite.’

‘Soon you shall have children of your own,’ I said and nodded. ‘I shall be happy to recommend a wet nurse and governess should you ever feel the need.’ I hesitated, as I saw Mrs Lidia Swinton walk past, her arm latched through her husband’s in a markedly possessive gesture. ‘Mrs Swinton,’ I hailed her to come. She turned and smiled, raising a gloved hand in greeting. She whispered something to her husband; he turned a handsome face in our direction and nodded curtly before disappearing from his wife’s side.

‘Lady Fielding,’ she smiled. ‘Lady Bexley,’ she curtseyed a greeting.

Mrs Lidia Swinton was a woman I both loved and loathed in equal measure. She had a wicked sense of humour and was ruthlessly witty with it. Her black hair was carefully coiffed beneath a beautiful blue bonnet. Her eyes glittered with mischief as they alighted on Lady Bexley.

‘I was just suggesting that when Lady Bexley has children, you and I could perhaps suggest a quality wet nurse.’

Lidia’s lively blue eyes slipped to me, and she arched an elegant eyebrow. ‘Quite, and naturally I shall. Yet, Lady Fielding, what a fascinatingly dull topic for conversation you propose for such a fine day.’

‘A necessary discussion to have, wouldn’t you agree, especially for a young bride?’ I countered, smiling indulgently at Lady Bexley.

The young woman had paled, whether at the topic of discussion or Lidia Swinton’s unusually abrasive manner. With a slight stutter, she excused herself.

‘Do you think I offended her?’ Lidia asked, watching the young bride disappear through the crowd.

‘I think not,’ I said and glanced at her husband, who remained deep in conversation with Jacob about hunting.

‘No,’ Lidia agreed. ‘I suppose being married to Bexley one would become used to boring conversation,’ she replied, failing to soften her voice.

I fanned my face to disguise a smile. ‘How is your husband?’

‘Better than yours, or so I heard.’ Lidia smiled wickedly. ‘Though, I am certain you will eventually indulge me with the details once you are ready.’

I sincerely doubted that, but said naught.

Lidia continued regardless, ‘First, however, you must introduce me to the fellow beside him, he cuts quite a dashing figure and one I’m not familiar with.’

‘He is my husband’s cousin,’ I fanned my face, ‘and he is staying at Fielding for a time.’

‘Lucky you.’ Lidia smiled fiendishly. ‘A veritable banquet for your eyes, I should imagine. Such impressive masculinity, and you shall have them both to yourself? Lord Fielding’s cousin is not yet married?’

‘No,’ I replied.

I turned and looked at both Matthew and Jacob; deep as they were in conversation with Bexley they did not notice our observation of them. It was true, their blond heads were glistening in the heat of the sun, their shoulders broad. They did look very fine.

‘Astonishing,’ Lidia replied, ‘why ever not?’

I looked at her then. ‘You cannot expect me to divulge these details to you.’ I laughed, though even to my own ears it was hollow. ‘Matthew’s business is his own, and not for public speculation.’

‘So this Adonis who, it must be said, looks markedly similar to your own husband, is called Matthew?’

I looked at her, trying to decipher the shrewd look in her eyes. I said nothing.

Lidia laughed. ‘My, my, Lady Fielding, did your eyes just turn green?’

Was I jealous she admired Matthew? Mayhap I was.

‘Lidia, you are incorrigible,’ I retorted, and glanced towards the Hall. ‘Have you seen Lady Stanton?’ I asked.

‘No, she’s hiding, swollen and bloated with child as she is.’

‘You’re being unkind. What about Lord Stanton? We came late and have not greeted him.’

‘He was drinking in the marquee last I saw, but has since disappeared. I can only imagine where.’

I laughed, though it was half in pity; Lord Stanton was a notorious womaniser. Poor Lady Stanton.

So the afternoon continued as such. I spent some time walking in what I found was a surprisingly companionable silence betwixt Matthew and Jacob. With a gentleman on both my arms, I felt delectably spoilt and cosseted. I relished the envious glances from the other women. As we walked, whether it was accident or design, occasionally Matthew or Jacob’s arm would brush against the swelling of my breast. The gesture left me weakened.

Matthew spoke about his plans for Mansbury Terrace with Jacob who listened without comment. I could give Matthew what he needed to rejuvenate the London house. I realised then that I desperately wanted to as well.

Whilst Matthew and Jacob spoke, I became lost in my thoughts. I knew that in sharing our marital bed with Matthew, we three could finally have what we wanted. Matthew could have Mansbury Terrace fixed, Jacob could have his son, and I…I would get to see both men happy, and finally be able to sate my wicked curiosity. Finally, as we sat in silence on the long carriage ride home, I realised something.

I had made up my mind.

Chapter 8

‘Jacob,’ I said, as we descended the stairs for the evening meal.

‘Yes?’ He spoke softly.

‘I will do what you wish, and tonight if it pleases you.’ My heart lurched at my own words.

‘Darling, truly?’

‘Yes.’

He took me in his arms and kissed me, fiercely. ‘What made you decide this?’

‘Today, being with you and Matthew. Speaking to him, speaking to you. We all need this, for Fielding, and Matthew’s future.’

Jacob was silent. ‘This is not an easy thing for any of us; the mere thought of him touching you makes me…makes me feel slightly crazed, and yet we must.’

‘Tonight,’ I agreed, there would be no point in prolonging the awkwardness.

‘It may take more than one occasion.’ Jacob spoke softly, as though I needed to be told.

I laughed. ‘It may, it may not, I shall leave it to God to decide which.’

When we entered the dining room, Matthew was smoking a cigar and staring out the open window. He looked dashing by the candlelight.

‘Matthew,’ Jacob spoke. ‘Jane has agreed to, er…’ He fumbled over his words.

In the candlelight, I saw Matthew’s face alternately pale then heat.

‘She has?’ He looked at me, surprised. ‘Are you certain, Jane? Is this what you want?’

‘We need an heir for Fielding, and you must be the one to provide it. I am certain.’

He was silent, I had perhaps expected a cheer, but then, that would have been vulgar. Instead, Matthew inclined his head.

‘I shall continue to sleep in my sick rooms,’ Jacob said stiffly. ‘So you need not fear an intrusion.’

‘Good God,’ Matthew whispered under his breath.

I found my face flaming with similar embarrassment.

Jacob continued. ‘Still, I would have you know that although I do not find this easy, this is what I wished for, and I will not have you made uncomfortable.’

‘The whole jolly experience shall be uncomfortable,’ Matthew retorted, but his words did not ring quite true and as he spoke it seemed his eyes did not sway from Jacob. I waited to see what would happen next; was this some unsubtle male challenge? Did he expect Jacob to go back on the plan? I do not know. For a few moments, both he and Jacob had a long, unspoken conversation. Neither gaze demurred from the other.

‘Enough,’ I whispered, my voice unfairly hoarse. ‘Then let us not speak of it any more.’

Jacob looked at me then inclined his head wordlessly. Hurt dwelt in the depth of the blue, but he walked over and squeezed my hand before sinking down onto his chair.

Dinner was a bumbling affair, there was some talk of the Stantons’ party and the Bexleys’ sudden departure, but all conversation was stilted.

My husband did his best however. ‘A lovely couple, I thought, though I was surprised by the speed of their departure,’ Jacob replied. ‘Bexley needs a young woman to enliven him, mayhap he…’ He faded off, realising that discussion on that topic was deeply inappropriate at this time.

‘I found myself under observation repeatedly by Mrs Swinton,’ Matthew commented, and sipped from his wine glass. ‘Why, I daresay she was almost bold in her favours.’

‘She is quite exceptional,’ I agreed, ‘she staggers me with her wit and occasional vulgarity, though I adore it as much as I loathe being the recipient of it.’

Everyone laughed then, though the tension penetrated the humour.

And so the meal continued, as did a game of cards in the sitting room after.

By the time I had finished my cup of tea, I was veritably weak with nerves. My sex felt swollen between my legs as if it wished to remind me of what I was about to do. It pulsed, ready and, dare I say, willing me into action.

I coughed to gain the gentlemen’s attention, though I hardly needed to do so.

‘I…’ I coughed, again this time with nervousness. ‘I shall retire for the evening, gentlemen.’ I glanced over at Bolton, in the hope he was not being attentive to our conversation. ‘I shall have Esther assist me and then…’ I choked and my hands fluttered to my mouth. ‘I…’ I could not finish, my cheeks were aflame. ‘Good evening, husband.’ I swept over to him and kissed him gently on the lips. ‘I love you,’ I whispered in his ear as I moved away.

‘Matthew.’ I inclined my head and offered him a slight curtsey before fleeing the room.

***

By the time I reached my rooms, I was verily glowing with perspiration. I rang for Esther immediately. I ardently hoped that Bolton hadn’t found my manner strange. The last thing I wished for was scandal amongst the servants.

As if to perpetuate the thought, Esther’s voice broke my musing. ‘Milady, whatever is the matter?’

She was peering at me curiously and I felt the glow renew.

‘I am quite fine, thank you, just most tired.’

She seemed to accept that, and helped me out of my gown and assisted me in a light sponge bath to cool my skin.

As the sponge slid over my skin, I felt my breasts tighten and my loins clench.

Matthew was coming
.
What would he think of me? How would intercourse with another man feel?

As Esther slipped my cotton nightdress over my head and drew the string around my neck, I found my heartbeat increase.

Should I have disrobed for Matthew? What did he expect?

‘Would you like me to extinguish the candles?’ Esther asked as I crawled into the bed.

‘No, I shall. Goodnight, Esther.’

‘Goodnight, Milady,’ she replied with a slight frown. ‘Are you sure you’re well?’

‘I am well, thank you, do not concern yourself,’ I replied, and with a cautious nod she slipped out the door.

I was alone, but suddenly could not stand to be abed. As I lay, my body verily pulsed with nervousness. So, for a time I paced my room.

What if Matthew did not come? What if
he
was the one who found it too terrible to complete? Would he?

Lord, what a terrible fix this was.

I was utterly plagued with doubts. So much so that I went to my sideboard and poured myself a glass of wine from the decanter there, to try and still my nerves. Hours seemed to pass, or perhaps it was minutes, but I returned to the bed. I lay there, staring at the candles as they flickered in unseen and unfelt drafts. It seemed an age of anxious waiting until the door to my rooms creaked, and a shadowy figure entered.