Some time later she woke and at first was utterly confused about where she was, before remembering arriving at the cottage with Percy; he was still beside her, lying on his side facing her, but he seemed still to be asleep and she realised that the weight on her ribs was his arm thrown over her.
There was a cool misty light in the room but she could not tell what o'clock it was; but she could hear birds twittering in the eaves, and Mrs Phillips's hens in the yard. She was warm and drowsy, and did not want to wake Percy yet but to think, quietly on her own, about the events of the past few days – and especially of the past few hours.
As had seemed clear he would, he had made love to her; at first gently and then more urgently, his movements becoming more insistent until he seemed to reach some point of no return, had shuddered and cried out; she had felt some strange pulse and then everything had seemed to change and after a few moments he had pulled away from her to lie beside her, had embraced her, kissed her deeply, and had succumbed to sleep.
She knew of course that he was exhausted ― but she was a little dismayed and perturbed.
She had only a rather hazy understanding of it all; before her marriage she had had no-one to advise her, no-one to ask any of the myriad questions which were now filling her thoughts.
She had welcomed his love, had wanted it, and there had been joy in it, for he appeared to have forgiven her, still loved her, and the threads of their lives had so begun to weave together again as they should have been for all those months. It had hurt, a little, to be sure, but had not been anything like the painful duty – something to be endured, not enjoyed – which she had been led to expect. She had experienced nothing with which to compare it except for their own wedding night, almost a year ago: of which the memories were vivid, but not many. And so she did not know if this was how it would be, always.
Except that she remembered Henriette.
Henriette had been her closest friend at the theatre and they had shared many confidences. She had an admirer, a young Vicomte named Philippe, and although with her republican principles Marguerite had initially been a little disapproving of Henriette's consorting with an aristocrat, she soon realised that Philippe was both sensitive and serious, and moreover that he adored Henriette. His family of course – expecting that he would make a prudent and profitable marriage – disapproved of the relationship and tried to separate them; but Philippe had proved true to Henriette, and continued to pay court to her until they were eventually forced to leave Paris to marry in secret. When Henriette and Marguerite had both become popular and sought-after at the theatre, they had been given a private retiring-room to share. They were not very often in the same cast and so usually only one or other of them would use the room at any one time. There had been an occasion, however, when Marguerite had mislaid some favourite gloves, and, thinking that she might have left them at the theatre, had gone to their dressing room unexpectedly, had opened the door – and had seen Henriette and Philippe making love.
She had never forgotten the sight, and although it shamed her to recall it deliberately because it seemed such an invasion of Henriette's privacy, she could not help doing so: Henriette, her petticoats gathered about her waist, kneeling astride Philippe on the sofa; her back arched, her hands locked in his; her eyes closed and her brows gathered into a frown of intense concentration; her lips parted, and framing a series of small cries of pleasure.
Neither Henriette nor Philippe seemed to be aware of Marguerite's intrusion and she made a horrified and silent retreat; Henriette made no reference to it and of course Marguerite never mentioned it. But it had been a glimpse, for her, into a private world of which she had no personal knowledge and it ran counter to everything she had ever been given to understand about that world. She had suddenly seen that – unlike the furtive and perfunctory couplings she had witnessed occasionally in the gloom backstage – physical love could be a sweet thing; that it was not always unshared delight, and not only men who would take pleasure in it; and she suddenly began to understand, too, why it seemed to be such an important part of life.
So now she was a little puzzled, and although she had not truly expected everything about their private moments always to be perfect, she began to wonder if Percy was perhaps a little disappointed in her somehow – that maybe, having won her back, the reality did not match his dreams...
She had begun to dwell on this when he suddenly stirred; turning her head to look at him, she realised he was awake and gazing at her.
"Is all well, Margot?" he murmured; "you seemed deep in thought."
"Yes, Percy", she replied, not wishing to give any hint of the doubt which had begun to make its presence felt in her mind; "quite well."
He breathed a deep sigh and said, "I hope you will forgive me, sweetheart, for having fallen asleep ― truly 'tis not the action of a gentleman..."
She was rather at a loss but she replied, "I am sure there is nothing to forgive, Percy, and I do not know how long we have slept here, but we agreed we would rest, and we are both so tired! I think I have probably slept for only a few hours during the past several days, and I would hazard a guess that you also have had very little sleep; so we both must recover, must we not?"
"Quite so, dearest," he replied, "quite so. But ―" here he hesitated for a few moments, and then went on in an altogether different tone, "we shall not be asleep all the time, I suppose?"
She looked more closely at him and saw that his eyes were full of mischief. Although still not fully understanding his meaning, she laughed; and he drew closer to her again and kissed her. They kissed deeply for a few moments and he ran his hand under the shirt beneath her and pulled her nearer to him; his hand was warm on her skin, and purposeful, and she began to respond, putting her arms around his neck and pulling his head down to hers. He parted her thighs and caressed her gently until he judged she was ready and then he whispered, "Help me, please, Margot? Guide me – 'twill be easier for us both..."
She did as he asked, taking him in her hand, and the strength and hardness in him almost made her gasp, whilst his pleasure in feeling her dainty little fingers around him was beyond words; and he was right, that it was easier. He pushed a little, slowly, watching her face, and when he saw her eyes widen and her lips part he hesitated; she looked back at him, holding his gaze, and nodded, and with her hands on his hips she pulled him closer; and he pushed again, slowly and deeply, and slowly again, and again, and she arched her back and moved under him, raising her hips to meet his, and she suddenly believed that while he still lived a double life, during these moments at least he would be truly and completely hers, with no thoughts of those in France, or of the League, or of anything but his need to love her.
He suddenly spoke: "Margot, do you love me? Do you – do you want me?"
"I do, Percy, very much", she replied, "And do you love me?"
"Very much", he replied, "very much. And I have dreamed of this so often – of making love to you – it was sometimes more than I could bear not to be able to take you in my arms, and to my bed: it was less painful to feign indifference; but I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, and have always wanted you – have desired you; and now we are one, as we vowed we would be!"
"My dear"; she said, "my husband; my lover. For always, from now on. I promise!"
They were both growing tired again and a little while later he withdrew and lay beside her; but this time he did not sleep yet but caressed her tenderly, marvelling anew at the softness and delicacy of her flesh and the way it responded to his touch; he murmured endearments and encouragement to her, until he could not doubt her arousal; and then he stroked her and kissed her face and her lips and held her close until she felt as if she was being borne forward by wave after wave on some great sea, when she uttered a cry and did not know herself except that this was the greatest pleasure she had ever been given.
Afterwards she did not know how she should be – did not know what to say or to do; but Percy, without speaking, drew her close to him and embraced her gently and tenderly. She lay in his arms and before drowsiness gradually began to overtake them both she remembered Henriette again, and felt that now she understood.
Some time later they both woke again; what seemed to be afternoon sunshine was stealing through the gap in the curtains. Percy reached for his pocket-watch: four of the clock.
"No wonder I am hungry!" he said with a laugh; "and I daresay you could manage something to eat, too, little woman?"
"I could, Percy" she said happily. "Shall we eat in the parlour? ― shall I dress again?"
"I think, dearest, that we shall be thoroughly idle;" he said, "and if Mrs Phillips can put together some little repast for us, I shall bring it upstairs for us to eat here. Will that suit, Margot?"
"It will, Percy", she said, "certainly."
He opened the curtains and pushed the casement wide, then threw on shirt, breeches and dressing-gown and, with a grin at her, went downstairs barefoot to summon the housekeeper.
Marguerite lay back on the pillows again and fell to dreamy recollections.
After a little while he returned with a basket containing cold meat, bread and cheese, thick-cut slabs of currant cake, large sweet pears, and wine; he sat on the bed beside her and they settled to eat.
"Andrew has sent a message," he said later, "realising perhaps that it might be late on in the day before we ... er, were at home to visitors ― " (here he cast a sideways, wicked glance at her and she giggled in response); "he sent a boy from the Fisherman's with a note for me. He says he will not be leaving for London until tomorrow as the Comte de Tournay is extremely fatigued after the stress of recent days, and Andrew thinks that further travelling would not be wise just yet; I hesitate to suggest" – here another mischievous glance at her – "that he may be frustrated by the delay in returning to London, where I believe he may be thinking of a certain sweet-faced young lady... Be that as it may, as is typical of Andrew he asks if there is anything he can do to be of service to us whilst he is here. I do not think I need to call on his help for myself in any way for the time being, but is there anything with which he might help you, dearest? ― are there any messages for anyone, perhaps? I wondered if you might wish to see Armand?"
She considered for a few moments; and then to her own surprise she found herself saying, "I should indeed like to see him, after we return to Richmond, Percy; I would prefer him not to come here, and for the time being I do not wish to leave the house. I shall send him a message, with my love, but that is all for now."
"Of course, dear heart; I shall ask Robert to take a note from each of us. However, Margot, I have been thinking that although we shall not be entertaining company – other than Andrew, possibly – whilst we rest here, you have no clothes other than those in which you crossed the Channel several days ago, and which are now looking the worse for wear after your journey behind that infernal cart... and you cannot, in all conscience, continue to wear my shirts and dressing-gown for the duration of our stay here! Should you like Mrs Phillips to arrange for a dressmaker to come here, or would you prefer for Louise to be sent for, to bring some of your own clothes?"
"I do not know, Percy: I had not thought beyond how much I would welcome some fresh linen!" She considered the question for a few moments but her instinct was that she wanted no interruptions to their private time here at the cottage, no intrusions: and she continued, "But perhaps – if you think it would be satisfactory – Mrs Phillips might be able to help me? I think it would be easiest if she were to take my travelling dress, and the seamstress could use it as a pattern... "
"Of course; quite the best solution. Let us discuss the matter with her later on" he said; "Now, would you like anything else to eat?"
"No, thank you, Percy; and you?"
"No, I think not," he said; "let me pour some more wine, though..." As he reached for the wine bottle he could not stop himself from wincing; his back, although improved by the bath, was still very painful. She saw it in his face and said quietly, "Is it still very bad, Percy?"
"I must confess that it rather smarts and aches; but it will heal – with time, and rest, I shall be as good as new again!" he said cheerfully.
"You said, when we were on the boat, that Mrs Phillips might have a salve that would help; have you asked her yet, Percy?"
"No, sweetheart – it slipped my mind: my thoughts were... elsewhere – "; here he paused, and gave her a very meaning look; "but certainly I shall ask her. And perhaps you would be willing to help, Margot; if she can offer something, perhaps you would put it on for me?"
"Of course, Percy; there is no need to ask me, husband!"
"Well then," he replied; "the sooner I enquire of her, the better, I suppose!"
He gathered the napkins, knives and what was left of the food back into the basket and stood up, looking down at her; then he nodded thoughtfully, smiled at her and went downstairs to seek the housekeeper.
Feeling sleepy for having eaten, Marguerite began to doze again and was asleep when he returned a little while later and sat down gently on the bed. She woke and saw that he had brought a small green glass pot which he unstoppered and sniffed rather cautiously. Judging by the expression on his face, the ointment was not unpleasant, and indeed a fresh smell emanated from it. He put the little jar down on the bed beside him and she reached out a hand to touch his back gently; realising she was now awake, he said: "Robert will wait for us to make ready our respective notes and he will deliver them to the Fisherman's; Mrs Phillips – although she has brushed your travelling-dress – agrees that the best course of action in respect of some clothes for your dear self, would be for her to take your clothes to the dressmaker, and if you would like to give her some instructions as to your requirements she will make the necessary arrangements; and I have been given, as you see, a pot of one of her magic potions, which she promises will ease my back in no time..."
"You have been busy, Percy, while I have been sleeping!"
"No, Margot, just issuing instructions..." he said. "However, now I have Mrs Phillips's salve, may I ask if you would apply it for me, please, sweetheart?"
"Of course, Percy, I will gladly help, my dear", she said as she pushed the eiderdown back, and knelt up beside him, " – but you will need to take off your shirt again?"
He doffed the dressing-gown and then began to pull the shirt over his head. The light was coming in full behind him and she was struck afresh by how powerful his physique was; she had never properly seen him shirtless and now she looked at him as for the first time. Her eyes travelled lovingly over the breadth of his shoulders and strong chest: he really was quite splendid to look at – and he was hers: she hugged the thought to herself. He was watching her face: it made his heart sing ― especially after so many months when he had come to expect, by and large, only cold glances from her – to see the obvious admiration in her gaze; although it also amused him. She suddenly became aware that he was watching her and as she raised her eyes to his she saw the humorous twitch around his mouth: holding her gaze, he raised one eyebrow. She was a little embarrassed – she was unsure if she wanted him to divine her thoughts – and she longed to embrace him again, but she sensed that if she did so, they would both be distracted; and she had not yet seen his back, and she knew that she must tend to him.
And so she took up the pot of salve, and made a little "turn around" gesture to him.
He grasped her hands in his and said quietly, "Beware, sweetheart: it will not be pretty!"
"You forget: Armand!" she almost cried.
"No, Margot, I have not forgotten, far from it; but I did not wish you to be unprepared. That old coat did not offer much protection from the blows and the soldiers' belt-buckles drew blood," he said; "so I beg you, do not be alarmed: it will heal."
"Turn around, Percy", she said firmly.
He did as she asked.
She had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle the cry which rose to her lips, and tears of shock, distress and pity sprang to her eyes, which she did not want him to see; but eventually she was able to speak: "Dear God", she breathed.
His back was a mess of criss-crossing weals, gashes and cuts, some of which were beginning to swell and tighten with dried blood; and huge blue-black bruises were developing – down his spine, around his ribs, everywhere. She believed it made her heart bleed to see it. How he had borne such pain with so much courage and good cheer was impossible to understand; but bear it he had, and would continue to do so, she was sure.
"Well?" she heard him ask; "how bad is it, Margot?"
She summoned all the calmness she could into her reply: "To be sure, it is not pretty, Percy, as you warned me. And it must be very painful..." She paused to collect herself before continuing, "But I am sure you are right, my dear, that it will heal – in time. I shall put some of good Mrs Phillips's salve on the wounds – but first I wonder if I should bathe the cuts again?"
"I think not, dearest – it will make them bleed afresh and I think it might be better to leave things be", he said.
"Whatever you think best, Percy" she said. "I shall try not to hurt you more, but I think the salve might sting – do you know what is in it?"
"No!" he replied with a laugh; "I would not dare ask: I suspect I might receive a dusty answer. Mrs Phillips guards her skills most carefully! But it is enough to know that it will probably work – you will have realised by now that she is a most capable woman... However, I am sure it will sting, so perhaps you ought to begin the task, please, and then it will be over all the sooner."
She unstoppered the little pot again; the ointment inside was almost colourless but it had a slightly sharp smell and sure enough, as she gathered a little on her fingertips and put it to his skin, he flinched – and said with a laugh, "If it hurts, it must be doing good!"
With infinite gentleness she smoothed the salve over what seemed to her to be the worst injuries; she thought she should be sparing with it as it seemed that he would have need of it for many days to come. When all was done, she put the salve aside, and reached for his shirt; but he turned towards her and took her hands in his again, pulling her close to him. She moved to face him and put her arms about his neck; he smoothed the hair away from her face, kissed her, and put his own arms around her.
"Thank you, sweetheart," he said; "that was gently done."
"I did not want to hurt you, Percy", she replied; "it is quite bad enough already. I hope the salve will help it heal, and that all will be well – but I did not want to hurt you, dear. If it had not been for me, you would not have received that beating – that is almost the worst of it!"
"Who is to say whether, had you not followed me, anything would have worked out differently, sweetheart?" he said, "but I do not wish to dwell on it – nor should you, either; it is enough that we are reconciled, and that you love me. Tell me," he said, "is it enough for you, that I love you?"
"It is, my dear", she replied, "it is. We have been through so much, have we not, to reach this point, that it is enough to know that you love me; I shall never tire of hearing you tell me so."
And indeed she never did.