1607

Anne had devoted her best efforts to make Governor John Ratcliffe's estate feel like a home, if one could call it a home. A prison, more like. The stone walls were just as cold and foreboding as any jail. Her bedchamber was indeed more gloomy than the darkest prison cell. It was because she shared it with him. The daily challenge of remaining obedient and compliant was almost as difficult as the chore of pretending to be cheerful.

Governor Ratcliffe was suddenly desperate for a son. Though Anne was now well adjusted to the awkward and often unpleasant task of attempting to beget a child, she did not understand why having a son was more important now than ever.

She had been married by cold, calculating arrangement for nearly one year and yet she had not managed to produce an heir to her master. He mentioned often that even his most stubborn mare was more capable of breeding than she was. She pretended she could not hear his cruel remarks and would turn to her Bible for comfort once the tears had dried. The written word reinforced the concept that the purpose of women was to obey and serve men. If it was God's will, perhaps it would be easier to bear such a burden. The governor was losing patience and she was losing her sanity.

Anne found that there were too few women at court with whom she could confide in and their suggestions were as strange as they were unhelpful.

"If you want a boy, you must eat more salt," droned Lady Ashford as she lazily fanned herself. She winked and nodded at a young man who caught her eye.

"Salt?" Anne repeated, trying to gain her companion's focus once again.

"Your husband is old, sweat pea. Maybe it isn't your fault you are not having any luck," she whispered, taking hold of Anne's arm and forcing her to take a turn in the courtyard. Anne's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. She did not wish to discuss the methods of conception at hand.

"My Lady…" she pleaded desperately as she attempted to hide her blushing cheeks with her fan.

"Oh please, do not be so coy. You have been married for a year. Such things should not embarrass you anymore," she replied with a smirk. A succession of frantic mumbles fell from Anne's lips before Lady Ashford interrupted her.

"Of course, there are other far more pleasant ways of conceiving. And your husband need not even know about it," she added. Anne became entirely uneasy as her innocent question quickly evolved into a discussion of infidelity.

"The Earl of Bradford has a charming young son. Not two years older than yourself. Perhaps I should arrange for the two of you to meet. Oh, do not give me that look, Anne. Half the ladies at court have come to learn that there are other ways to find happiness in an unhappy marriage," she carried on without restraint as Anne desperately sought to change the subject. She could not remember a single moment in which she was happy to be Governor Ratcliffe's wife, but the mere thought of such betrayal disgusted her.

"Lady Ashford, why do you suppose he is so eager to have a son now? He wasn't at the start. At least not so much," she cut in suddenly, hoping to alter the course of the conversation.

"My dear," Lady Ashford chuckled heartily as Anne's agitation swelled like wave on a stormy sea.

"Does your husband keep you in the dark on everything? He has secured himself the task of settling the New World. He means to civilize and govern Virginia. With you by his side, of course," she declared. Her gleeful smile faded when she noticed, quite possibly for the first time, how anxious Anne had become.

"Now, now! My poor dear. Captain John Smith will be joining the expedition. Forget the Earl's son! Smith is a fine man himself. Count yourself lucky! I'm sure you'd have no trouble giving him a son."

Lady Ashford laughed softly to herself as she wandered down the path toward one of her many lovers as he waved playfully to beckon her. She was content to believe her good humor had solved all of dear little Anne's problems.

Anne was frozen where she stood. Her face was drained of all color as she dropped her hands to her sides. Her fan fluttered to the ground beside her feet but she did not move to retrieve it.

"Virginia?"

Among other various degrading practices Anne was expected to endure, she had grown accustomed to waiting to speak to her own husband in his study where she was forbidden to disturb him. Their manservant had scurried off to fetch the governor, leaving Anne alone in the hall with the snobbish little pug. Hoping she might distract her own sense of dread, Anne swooped down to stroke Percy's head. He growled at her for a moment but when she found the usual spot to scratch behind his ear, he returned to his casual state of indifference.

"Madam?" Wiggins gestured for her to follow him to her husband's study. She wondered if other wives were expected to be treated like unwanted guests in their husbands' homes. Perhaps she was not the only one. The mere thought was a small comfort to her.

"Sir, I-" Anne lost the will to speak when she noticed several maps sprawled amongst other papers on the governor's desk. She swallowed audibly but carried on as best she could.

"I was speaking with Lady Ashford today," she began uneasily.

"Hmm?"

"…and she has informed me of your plans to set sail for the New World."

"Lady Ashford is prone to gossip, my dear. Much to her own detriment. I don't care for your acquaintance with her."

"Then it isn't true?"

"Oh, it is indeed true," he informed her without so much as glancing up from his desk. Anne was submerged into her own stunned silence.

"Is that all?" he asked impatiently.

"She knew. Everyone else knows. Why am I the last to know? How much longer would you have waited to tell me?" her voice trembled. Ratcliffe laughed at her ignorance, unrolling another map and setting weights down on the curling edges.

"It hardly matters," he sighed.

"It…it matters to me. You have plans to take us far away from here and I didn't even know." tears were forming in her eyes, but if they had any affect on her husband, Anne did not know.

"We set sail in a month. We will hold a farewell banquet here in two weeks. There nothing else discuss…" he waved her away like she was an annoying little insect.

Slamming the door to her bedchamber, Anne collapsed on the large bed in a fit of tears. She felt hot blood surge through her veins like fire. Gasping for breath, she flung herself toward the open window to drink in the cool evening air. There was a knock at the door. For a moment, she feared her husband had come to reprimand her but she quickly realized he would never have knocked.

She opened the door to Wiggins as he entered with a tray of tea and an insufferably cheerful smile on his face. When he noticed the tears on her cheeks, his expression quickly evaporated.

"Is there anything I can do, Madam?" he asked. She merely shook her head and gestured for him to leave the tray on a table beside the window.