Chapter Twenty-Five
Priscilla managed to stay calm, as she reached the door of the water closet, after leaving Nick and Silas. She gripped the ornate brass knob and turned it, trying not to throw the door open in case someone was inside. Thank God the room was empty! The thought came to her, as she suddenly felt overwhelmed. Her breaths started to come in hard gasps, as the impact of what had almost happened in the study hit her.
Priscilla looked for something to support herself with, because her legs were shaky. A console table, of wood and gilded ormolu anchored a settee upholstered in dark green silk, and Priscilla grasped hard on the carved edge. Finally calming her breathing she looked up, and caught her reflection in the full-length mirror.
The blue tulle dress didn't look that bad; the hem was slightly torn but that could have easily have been from the dance floor as what had caused it. Priscilla continued looking upwards, and saw that her corset was still askew, in spite of her attempts to fix it in the study. Luckily the ruffles had disguised it in the dark hallway, but she knew it wouldn't pass muster in the bright light of the main rooms. She adjusted the garment, even as her cheeks flamed at the memory of how it had happened. Priscilla's eyes closed as she relived Nick's hands on her body and the sensations they had caused.
Even as she blushed, Priscilla felt a rush of pleasure, as she remembered how her body had welcomed Nick's attentions. While she knew about relations between men and women, she had never really understood passion. Now though, having been so close to Nick, Priscilla could see how a woman could get carried away. There was also the memory of how she had, for one moment, been willing to let Nick take her.
Gathering her thoughts she looked again in the mirror and noticed that her hair – all prettily done up with a blue flower wreath – was coming loose, especially at the back. Priscilla's face was still pink, but it flamed up again as she thought about why the back would be almost undone. The memory of her body with Nick's on the sofa was at the forefront of her mind. Her behavior had been wanton to say the least, but he had clearly enjoyed it, she told herself. Priscilla could also admit in her heart of hearts that she had enjoyed also.
Looking in the mirror again she reached her hands up, to re-pin her hair; they came to a grinding halt when she noticed her neck. Priscilla had already seen how flushed her face was, but knew that splashing some cold water on it would solve the issue. However the reddish/purple mark on the left side of her neck, just above her pulse spot, couldn't be erased.
Priscilla rushed into the water closet, where she knew there was a mirror in which she could get a better view. Looking at the mark closely, she could see spots that were redder than others, as if teeth had grazed her skin. She recalled exactly when the bite – which is what it was – had happened. Nick's passion had been rising fast, and she had known that he wanted her for his own.
It was only because she had realized that neither of them, in the cold light of day would have been happy with the outcome. Nick had never been anything other than honorable with her, even during their previous intimate kisses. He wouldn't want to take her in his impaired condition, and Priscilla was glad that she'd had the presence of mind to stop him.
Quickly splashing cold water on her face, she looked at herself in the mirror again. Her skin looked better, the cheeks just slightly pink, and Priscilla easily finished tidying up her hair. The only issue was her neck; the neckline of the dress showed just enough that the mark could not be covered. Priscilla could come up with no explanation for why it was there; without one she couldn't leave the water closet.
She was a maiden school teacher, with a reputation to protect. Her earlier thought, of how easily she could have been wife before a bride came back to her, as she remembered that she was dependent on her livelihood in Stockton. She had signed a contract, and if she broke it, Priscilla knew she would have to pay back all the wages she had received.
Priscilla knew full well the behavior that was expected of the town's school teacher. Granny Elspeth had drilled it into her time and again, and as if that weren't enough, teaching college had spelled it out plainly. Everything the schoolmarm did was open for speculation, discussion, and gossip. She despaired now, because the mark on her neck could only have been caused in one way, and an unmarried woman should not know about those kinds of things.
She had no doubt that Nick would marry her rather than cause a scandal. However she didn't want their union to start out under that kind of cloud. Priscilla suspected that Nick would not care in the short run, but down the road might feel differently. He was a very proud man, where his family and land were concerned.
Taking another deep breath, she looked in the mirror again, trying to figure out what to do about the mark on her neck. Priscilla tilted her head slightly, moving a pin to anchor the floral wreath in her thick, dark gold hair. She happened to look up in the mirror and saw it reflecting a small table covered by a lace cloth and a vase of flowers.
Turning from the mirror she walked over to the table, to get a closer look at the fabric. It was a dense floral pattern of lace, and Priscilla could tell that it was almost the size of a shawl. An idea came to her, and she carefully lifted the vase up enough to pull the fabric off the table. The weather had turned cool as the sun went down, so no one would question why she had put on a wrap. Priscilla shook it out, and then folded it in half, point to point, before she draped it around her shoulders.
Going back into the sitting area, she studied her reflection in the long mirror, as she adjusted the fabric around her neck. It didn't take Priscilla long to get the lace wrap positioned, so the offending mark was covered. She knew she would have to hold it close to her, but could always blame the chill in the air for that. Feeling better she took a deep breath, and went to find Victoria, hoping that someone could take her back into town.
The older woman would undoubtedly offer a guest room for the night, but Priscilla would not accept, no matter how gracious Victoria was. Priscilla didn't want to think about facing Nick in the cold light of morning, after what they'd done – almost done – in the study. She was sure too that he would not want her around when the effects of the alcohol tonight hit him tomorrow.
Victoria was standing in the front hall, saying goodbye to guests as they were leaving. More people had been invited to the reception that evening, than for the earlier afternoon church service. Heath and Sarah had tried to resist, but it had been pointed out to them that they would be gone once the cake had been cut. The family wanted a party, and the couple had gone along in the end.
Priscilla admired how handsome the matriarch looked, in the grey-blue brocade dress she wore. For the occasion of Heath's wedding Victoria had taken some of her diamond jewelry out of the safe, and Priscilla thought how regal she looked. The Victoria of England, who only wore black now, could learn something from this Victoria, Priscilla thought to herself. Making her way from the doorframe, she walked over to where her hostess was standing.
"Priscilla, how are you doing? What a lovely shawl; are you cold?" Victoria greeted the pretty young woman, admiring the color in her cheeks. It made her wonder where Nick was, since Priscilla was by herself.
"Yes, it has turned cold." Priscilla tightened the wrap around her, hoping Victoria didn't recognize it as the table drape. Her eyes widened as she thought of what she could say, but nothing came to mind. Instead she decided to change the subject. "Victoria, is there someone who could take me into town? Nick is with Silas, finishing up some matters." She swallowed hard as she made the statement, hoping it wouldn't lead to more questions.
Victoria sighed to herself, now knowing why Priscilla was alone. Nick was drunk, and Silas was dealing with him. She peered closely at Priscilla, to see how she was handling this turn of events. The couple had spent a great deal of time together, as Priscilla became familiar with life on the ranch.
However, she had never dealt with Nick drunk before, Victoria knew. In fact Nick had been rather well behaved since he'd started courting Priscilla, his mother mused. Only the Cattleman's Association meetings had been cause for her middle son to be inebriated lately. Though Victoria knew that a family wedding was an occasion when men tended to drink too much.
That thought had her looking into the front parlor, where Jarrod was holding forth, among a group of men. His jacket was nowhere in evidence, and his ruffled shirt collar was undone; a half smoked cigar in one hand, while the other hand held a glass of scotch. Mentally Victoria shook her head at the thought of the hangovers her sons would have tomorrow morning.
Turning her attention back to Priscilla, she now noted the puckered brow, and worried look in the teacher's blue eyes. Victoria also noted how tightly the young woman was keeping the lace wrap around her body. It had definitely turned chilly, Victoria could admit, but she didn't remember Priscilla ever wearing the wrap before. There was thought something about it that was very familiar, making Victoria wonder where she'd been it before?
Putting that question aside, she regarded the young woman as she weighed what to do about her. For a moment Victoria considered offering Priscilla a guest room, but then decided against it. She was sure that the couple would need some space, especially Nick who was sure to have a nasty hangover. Victoria though was glad that Priscilla had seen Nick in his cups, and wasn't throwing a fit about the occurrence.
Nick had been drunk before, and would undoubtedly be drunk again. Thank goodness Priscilla had turned him over to Silas, Victoria thought to herself. Between Nick's courtship with the young woman, and Audra's wedding plans, Victoria had spent a great deal of time with Priscilla, and had discerned that Priscilla, with her calm acceptance of the world, was just what Nick needed.
Now watching the young woman handle this latest event, Victoria was reassured that her middle son had finally chosen well. Looking back over at Jarrod, she hoped that he would find someone – if he hadn't already – for himself. Victoria had wondered if Jarrod would bring his unnamed lady friend to the wedding, but that had not materialized. She was curious as to who the woman could be, even as she kept her questions to herself. Mentally shaking her thoughts of Jarrod out of her head, she turned her attention back to Priscilla.
"Did I hear that you need a ride into town, Miss Converse?" Lenore Peterson came up to the pair, her husband Vincent following along. Vincent was the choir director for the church, and Lenore played the organ at services. She was a comfortably padded woman of middle-age, while her husband was bean pole thin. They were a close couple, and well respected in the community.
"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Peterson." Priscilla greeted them. "I didn't have the chance to tell you before, Mrs. Peterson, but you played beautifully today." She was happy that the couple was still at the wedding, and could give her a ride into town. Victoria said hello the couple, while being relieved that the answer to the dilemma had been so appropriately solved.
"Thank you for your kind words. I do love to play at weddings." Lenore left it unsaid that she hoped to play at Priscilla's wedding. "Isn't Nick available to take you home?" The older woman pursed her lips as she asked the question, suspecting the answer. She was a Methodist, and secretly disapproved of spirits, especially when they flowed freely.
"Nick is busy with Silas, helping to lock up the silver, while the rest of the servants start tidying up." Priscilla replied with a disarmingly casual smile, wanting to protect Nick from salacious gossip. He wouldn't care, but Priscilla didn't feel comfortable discussing his behavior with other people. From the almost imperceptible nod of the head Victoria was giving her, Priscilla knew that she'd said the right thing.
"Lenore, the man has spent the day marrying off his brother." Vincent knew Nick all too well and rather doubted the silver story. He had in fact shared a glass of a smooth blend Tennessee mash – Jack something – which Nick had picked up on his last trip east. Vincent was from Kentucky originally, and appreciated that Nick knew the finer points of whiskey and bourbon. His wife might be a Methodist, but Vincent certainly wasn't, which Nick understood. Plus, this was a wedding after all, and that deserved a celebration. He did though give the pretty girl high marks for her response, and thought that Nick was a lucky man.
"We will be glad to give you a ride into town Miss Converse." Vincent declared, while giving Victoria a knowing glance, which Lenore completely missed. Victoria knew that the choir director enjoyed a glass of smooth sipping whiskey behind his wife's back, and was glad now that the man was being discrete in the matter. The couple spent several more minutes saying goodbye to Victoria, before they left the house with Priscilla.
Priscilla was glad to get to the sanctuary of her room, after the carriage ride into town. She had feigned extreme tiredness, as an excuse not to talk to Mrs. Peterson. After getting ready for bed, Priscilla knelt down and said her prayers more reverently than usual. The Lord had been looking after her, in spite of her foolish behavior. Sleep was a long time coming for her though, as she thought about both the pleasure and guilt of her time alone in the study with Nick.
Early the next morning, Nick turned slightly in his bed, as he went to reach for Priscilla. He had been dreaming of her next to him, and he wanted to pull her close. Extending his arm he was disconcerted not to feel the soft curves he desired. That brought him awake, and he went to sit up, which forced a wave of nausea to hit him hard. At the same time a sharp pain knifed in his left temple, making him lie back down and groan.
It took him a moment to remember why his head hurt – all that whiskey – and as the nausea started again a cold fear came over him. Nick couldn't remember all of last night, but the feel of Priscilla's body underneath his was clear. He went to sit up again, slowly this time, and looked at the dim room with as hard scrutiny. There was no sign of Priscilla, or a woman's clothing, so Nick at least reassured himself that they had not spent the night together.
Lowering his body back on the bed, he tried to remember, despite the din of the hammering in his head, exactly what had occurred last night. Nick had noticed that he was in his drawers, under the covers, with his clothes nowhere in sight. That could mean nothing or everything, and he groaned as he went to cover his face with his hands.
Priscilla could still have ended up in his room for a while, which is what he was afraid had happened. All he could remember was the way she moved against him, and how she had moaned when his hands had been exploring. Nick wondered if she was in a guest room somewhere, guarded by his mother until the reverend arrived.
The prospect of facing his mother was almost as bad as the thought of facing Priscilla. Nick would be more than happy to marry her, but he knew that she would be embarrassed because of the circumstances. Priscilla was a well brought up young lady, with a strong faith, who took pride in her position as the school teacher. She would be mortified at the gossip a quick wedding would cause, and Nick could just see her summer blue eyes filling with tears.
He rolled over, which caused his head to pound louder, as his stomach roiled nastily. Nick tried to focus on what he could remember about yesterday, and in reviewing the events made it as far as being the study. He had been alone at first, but then Priscilla had joined him – ok, he sighed, they'd been in the study and not his bedroom – at least at first.
However, he couldn't remember what had happened after that, and what he and Priscilla had actually done. Nick gingerly stood up, and after getting his robe, headed down the hall to the water closet. Once there he found some headache powder, which he dissolved in water, and gulped it down. His hope was that if his head stopped pounding, maybe he could remember more details of the evening.
Had he had his way with Priscilla? Nick pondered dully, as he made his way back to his room, noting how quiet the house was. The consequences for his actions would be severe and long reaching, Nick knew. He also wondered if Priscilla would ever forgive him, for what he'd done to her. If only he'd not had drunk so much, he seethed to himself. Despair over took him.
Entering his room, he saw from the clock that it was around 6:00am, and guessed that everyone was resting up after the wedding yesterday. Nick climbed back into bed, and closed his eyes, hoping the headache powder worked fast. He also said a silent prayer that he had not destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to him.