. . .
THE CRUCIVERBALIST COURTSHIP
Chapter Eight - Spring 1937
"I thought you were in the laboratory."
Amy looked up from her reading and smiled. In truth, she needed a break and she arched her back, stretching out her arms, as Bernadette made her way across the drawing room toward her. Still partial to ruffles and florals, the petite German chemist now openly wore both her Star of David necklace and her wedding band.
"No, I had too much to do," Amy explained. "And the men wanted to work on their robot plan."
"Robot?" Bernadette sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the square card table that Amy was using as a temporary desk.
"A metallic mechanical creature. It's very popular in some of those science fiction stories they read. Howard wanted to write about one but there is apparently a disagreement on how various parts would function, so they are attempting to build one. I believe the plan is to start with an arm."
Bernadette grunted softly. "Fabulous. Another childish obsession." Then she said, "No, it is good. It will occupy him."
Amy raised an eyebrow. Howard had only been in Cambridge with Bernadette for a month now, and she had not expected a single whiff of dissatisfaction between the reunited couple. "Is he . . . restless?"
"He is only on a visitor visa and waiting for his occupancy visa is a struggle for both of us. He misses his work and he has too much time to wait."
"That's understandable. I'm sure Sheldon would welcome his presence in the laboratory, to help distract him. Or surely Rajesh could show him around Cambridge between lectures."
"That is not all," Bernadette said. "Without his position in Poland, he is only a writer here. I am providing the majority of our income now. It makes him . . . want to be more of a man?"
"Ah," Amy nodded, understanding dawning, "men and their income."
"Almost as problematic as men and their penis."
"Bernadette!" Amy exclaimed but then she couldn't help but grin at the naughty statement, her blonde friend smirking along with her.
Changing the topic, Bernadette leaned forward. "What are you reading? A textbook? But is it not your holiday?"
"Classes may be out for Easter week, but I have so much to do. My prospectus has to be completed; I'm just adding some finishing touches. And I have three interviews arranged for next week as I'm trying to work ahead. Not to mention a daily puzzle to create."
"And a wedding to plan."
"And a wedding to plan," Amy agreed. "Even with Mr. Bloom's help, even with a small ceremony, there are a great deal of decisions. Things I never considered. 'Which china pattern would you like for the breakfast, Miss Fowler?' 'Shall we pass out cake to the villagers in the courtyard or the great hall?' 'Should we use the silver that was a gift from King George the Second or Charles the First?" She rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses. "Howard has too much time on his hands and I have not enough. Perhaps I should ask him to be my bridesmaid."
"I do not recommend it unless you wish for a lot of schlock."
Amy looked over at her in confusion. Bernadette shrugged. "I am picking up Yiddish from Howard. Cheap rubbish, I think you would say."
Picking her pencil up, Amy scribbled the word on the blank corner of her page. It might prove useful for a puzzle.
"But all that will be done after the wedding. That is good," Bernadette continued.
"Yes, of course. I don't intend on ever marrying again."
"And your puzzles and your interviews will be gone, too, yes? Just your science then."
Looking over at her sharply, Amy asked, "What do you mean?"
"I mean - I assumed your newspaper work would stop. You will be a countess, no? And a biologist, of course, although I doubt you will use that much."
"Where did you get that idea? Did - did Sheldon say that?"
Bernadette waved a hand. "I just thought . . . why so much to do? Will you not be a wife and a mother?"
Amy stood, grabbing her textbook, slamming it closed, and stacking it on her notebook. "You're a wife. Would you just give up your job in science? Or your newspaper work if you had it? Why do you think I would?"
"But I must work. I have no family money here if I do not work."
"I don't either!" Amy said. She started shoving her study supplies into her large messenger bag, not taking care with them, letting the corners of her notebook bend and curl.
"Not now, no, but soon you will not need the income. You will be rich. And I'm sure Sheldon would give you anything you wanted now."
"But I don't want it! I would have thought you would understand. We're both scientists. I thought we both wanted careers. Science and reporting and puzzles are what I do, what I understand, what I . . . I thought it was only the gossip columnists who thought I was a money-grabbing -"
"Amy, stop." She had not noticed that her friend had gotten up, too, stepping around the table. "That is not what I meant. English is not native to me. I apologize if I've made you upset, if I misspoke."
"I'm not upset," Amy protested, although her voice was small. She sat back down. "I will continue my work here, and my education, traveling to London as needed. I do not intend on just lying around and producing endless children."
"That is one thing we can agree upon," Bernadette growled. She, too, settled back into a chair, and then said, "In Germany, a baroness would not work. Even for me, if I were married - if it were known - I would be required to leave my employment. It is a policy, the importance of German motherhood, strengthening German bloodlines."
"How barbaric," Amy murmured.
"We are alike. I would not trade Howard's boredom for my work. I was trying to say that you thought you were too busy and you were tired."
"I am," Amy admitted. She frowned. "I'm sorry that I became so angry. I'm - I'm just under a great deal of pressure and, well, I'm nervous."
"For marriage?"
"No. Not as such. I'm nervous . . . What if everyone sees me only as the Countess of Medford? I suppose I thought that's what you were implying. But what if everyone else just expects me to be a wife and mother and spend my days picking out the new monogram for the napkins?"
"I do not know who everyone is to you, but I do know that the one you are marrying has not said so to me. Or Howie. Sheldon knows this, yes, that you intend to keep working?"
"Of course. We've discussed it." Amy suddenly had an urge for tea. She got up and rang the bell by the door; Stuart had become accustomed to her mid-afternoon tea breaks when she was studying or working. "I may love Sheldon more, but I have loved my career for longer. Would you really have given up your career for your marriage?"
"I do not think I would have had the choice. In Germany, it would have been the law. In Poland, most women do not work outside the home. England is better for us in several ways."
"I envy you," Amy said softly. "Because you are using your science degree. I have come to realize that I most likely will not. Sheldon and I will enjoy the laboratory together, I know, but it won't be my employment. It's unlikely I will find something that will let me work here, alone at Medford. It would be rare enough for a man, but I am a woman. I think your comment just reminded me of my . . . disappointment."
"Perhaps you could obtain a position at Cambridge after you finish your doctorate? You could drive there. I heard you ask Mr. Bloom for driving lessons."
"No." Amy shook her head. "I will not condone an institution that will not confer degrees on women but will still employ them in their labs, mining their brilliance for gain. How hypocritical."
"Some of us do not have a choice about where to work. It is either work here for a hypocritical place or worry one's husband will be murdered by one's countrymen." The hard tone had returned to Bernadette's voice, and Amy closed her eyes in embarrassment.
"Of course, you must -" she started but just then there was a knock at the door and Mr. Bloom came in with a tea tray. Sitting quietly as he arranged it on the now empty table before them, Amy thanked the butler softly before he left. She concentrated on the act of pouring the tea, the ritual of polite questions about milk and sugar.
They both sipped in silence for a moment, and then Amy softly cleared her throat. "I did not think before I spoke. I apologize."
"It is so difficult to a be woman, is it not?" Bernadette answered. "Everyone wants you to be something different and if you become that, then they want you to be another different thing."
"Yes."
"I apologize, as well. In Germany, my family is wealthy. I was working for pleasure. Now I have no choice. And now you have the choice."
Any took a deep breath. "No apologies are needed. I am aware that I only have these choices because Sheldon allows them. And not because he is so benevolent - although he is kind, of course - but because the world of men has given him that power, as a fellow man." She took a drink of her tea. "And it is the world of men that has given you your safety, isn't it?"
"I feel guilty, sometimes," Bernadette said quietly. "I am safe now. Howie will be safe here. We are together. So many will not have this opportunity. So I should not feel frustrated when Howie is frustrated because we have mostly my income for food and home."
"I am fortunate enough to have a career and an education and a man who will let me keep both. So I should not feel frustrated that I feel like I do not have enough time to be a countess, too."
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, sitting on opposite sides of the table and drinking their tea. They each sat, counting their own separate blessings, knowing they were the fortunate ones, and yet still feeling the weight of the downtrodden and distressed upon them because they both knew they had narrowly escaped those lives.
"So, Amy," Rajesh asked over dinner, "was that large box I spied on the hall table from the stationers?"
"Um, yes, Miss," Stuart answered for her as he presented her with the bowl of buttered peas. "The invitations arrived just before dinner."
"Do we get to see them?" Rajesh asked.
"You'll just have to wait for it to arrive in the post, like everyone else," Sheldon said. "I'm not spending two pence on you if it doesn't include the element of surprise."
"If you're invited," Howard quipped.
Sending Rajesh a small smile, Amy said, "Of course you will be. You all are."
"Amy! Surprise, I said," Sheldon chided softly.
Rajesh asked, "Have you settled on a menu for the breakfast?"
"Why is called a breakfast? Bernie says we will eat at noon," Howard asked.
"That is an excellent question," Sheldon said.
"Weddings are traditionally held in the morning because the couple used to fast before receiving communion at the Mass," Amy explained. "And so it's called breakfast."
"Amy has decided to put Mr. Bloom and Mrs. Sparks in charge of coming up with something suitable," Sheldon explained.
"Of course. You'll want to focus on all the fun things, like your dress. How fabulous is it?" Rajesh asked.
"Um . . ." Amy stalled by taking a drink of water. "I haven't found the one yet."
"What? The wedding is only two months away! You need time for alternations!"
"I've been busy." She glanced over at Bernadette.
Her friend intervened. "It is back luck for the groom to know about the dress before the wedding."
"Yes, that," Amy agreed, nodding deeply.
Sheldon looked over, his neck telling her he was surprised. "Since when are you superstitious?"
"Well, can you at least tell me about the veil?" Rajesh asked.
"Why do you care?" Bernadette asked. Amy let out a small breath.
"I am a connoisseur of fine fashion for both men and women," Rajesh answered. "The veil?" he asked again.
Amy's stomach dropped that he hadn't forgotten. "I thought I had better pick out the dress first. To make sure it matches."
"Hmmm," Rajesh said. "Well, your trousseau, then? I cannot believe you convinced Sheldon to go to Paris."
"Oh, yes, Paris!" Amy jumped eagerly on the topic. "I've never been to the continent - anywhere out of England - and I'm very excited. The weather should be nice in June, as I understand it. There's the Louvre and Versailles and the Eiffel Tower -"
"Yes, but what will you be wearing? Paris is the height of fashion, you know. You can't pack too many frocks."
"Um, maybe we'll do some shopping there?" Amy suggested, looking at Sheldon out of the corner of her eyes.
He sat down his cutlery with alarm. "I am not undergoing another trip on the Channel ferry just to hold your handbag while you shop! I've been working on an intense and intelligently stimulating itinerary. Everything is scheduled."
Howard mumbled, "Yes, why should your honeymoon be physically intense and stimulating, when it could be intelligently so?"
"Well, please tell me you've at least settled on a nice traveling suit," Rajesh said.
"Sheldon says it's windy and cold on the ferry, so I was thinking about wearing one of my jumpers."
"A jumper!" Rajesh acted as though he'd just been shot in the chest. Which was hypocritical, Amy thought, as it was a jumper-clad chest. "You have so much work to do and only two months to do it! That settles it, Bernadette and I will come up to London next Saturday to take you shopping and to give our opinions."
"That's really not necessary," Amy protested.
"It might be fun," Bernadette said with a shrug.
Amy let her eyes tell Bernadette she considered her a trader, especially after their earlier conversation.
"Wait, you haven't been shopping with Amy yet?" Rajesh asked. "Who's been helping you pick out your trousseau then? Your mother?"
"Oh, goodness, no," Amy snapped and then immediately regretted that she hadn't taken the easy out. "I mean, I've looked around a little bit on my own."
"Looked around? A little bit?" Rajesh pressed, leaning so far over his plate in his eagerness Amy feared for his cravat. "Have you not been shopping for your wedding and honeymoon at all?"
"I - I've been too busy. With school and my work."
"But, Amy, it is far too late for such half-hearted measures! Isn't this what every girl dreams of, buying her wedding clothes?"
Howard looked confused as he whispered, "It sounds like Rajesh is dreaming of it, no?"
"They're not half-hearted!" Amy protested. She looked over at Sheldon, who suddenly seemed mesmerized by his water goblet. But she knew that firm set of his jaw too well, the way his eyes were suddenly a darker blue. "They're not," she said to him. "Not half-hearted at all," she added, softer.
Sheldon stood. "If you'll excuse me, I don't think this meal has agreed with me. I will retire early."
They watched him leave in silence, Amy twisting in her chair, wringing her napkin.
"Thank you very much, Rajesh," Bernadette said.
"What did I do?"
No one answered and then Amy saw the understanding dawn in his eyes. "That is not what I meant. I just like weddings, that's all, and . . ." He swallowed and looked over at her. "Sheldon is not good with . . . implications. And I didn't mean it that way, so I'm sure he didn't take it that way."
"I'm sure that he did." Amy stood and walked out of the dining room. She paused in the great hall, then entered the library only to find it empty. So he did not wish to be found.
Knock, knock, knock. "Amy."
She stirred in her sleep, certain the voice was still inside her dream.
Knock, knock, knock. "Amy. Are you there?"
Awake now, she sat up and rubbed her eyes in the dark. Medford Hall was quiet. Had it been a dream?
Knock, knock, knock. "Amy. It's Sheldon. I'm sorry to wake you, but I need to speak with you."
"Just a moment," Amy called, grabbing her glasses from her bedside table. She did not want him to leave, so she scurried quickly as she could to the door, forgoing her dressing gown, padding in her bare feet.
He was silhouetted by the dim sconces in the hallway, left on at night for safety. But his hair was sticking out widely at odd angles and his dressing gown hung limply over his pajamas. Amy could not recall seeing him so disheveled, even the night of the murder.
"Sheldon?"
He ran his hand through his hair, messing it further. "Can you forgive me for being a fool?"
"What are you talking about?" Amy rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"
"I have replayed the conversation at dinner over and over, and I realize I have been a fool. Oh, Amy, please tell me I have been a fool! Either I have been or you do not wish to marry me, and I could not bear that."
His anguish appeared so great that Amy placed her hand on the center of his chest. "Of course I want to marry you! Has Rajesh made you this upset?"
"Your wedding dress. I should have known. I have tried so hard to honor your wishes for independence that I completely failed to take into account your financial straits. Please tell me it's why you haven't purchased it yet. You can't afford it."
Amy looked down at her toes peeking out beneath her nightgown. "My father gave me three pounds," she whispered, holding out the only piece of pride she had in the matter. She hated to admit it, not so much for herself and her romantic white-gowned dreams as for her father. He gave it to her when her mother had left the room, whispering that he'd managed to set it aside, to save it for her. And it's not as though she lied at dinner; she had shopped around, a bit. But even she knew the few second-hand dresses she saw wouldn't do. Not for a countess, not for her dreams.
"Three pounds!" Sheldon cried. "I cannot do it now but first thing tomorrow I will ring Harrods and have an account set up in your name. Is Harrods acceptable?"
"Harrods?" Once, on a particularly rainy and dreary day, she'd wandered through the large store, gawking at floor upon floor of beautiful frocks and gowns, falling like pastel waterfalls, too afraid to touch anything for fear of soiling it. It was a far cry from the utilitarian Marks and Spencer or Woolworths she visited only when she had to purchase new undergarments, something she refused to buy second-hand.
"Is there another store you'd prefer? Selfridge's, maybe? And there's your trousseau. You'll need new dresses and hats and - and underpinnings." Sheldon blushed slightly. "Please don't argue. Not this time. Not about this."
She nodded. "Thank you, Sheldon. I'll find a way to repay you. Once I'm not paying for my boarding house -"
"No." His voice was stern, but his knuckles grazed the edge of her face gently. "You will not repay me. I will not start our marriage with a ledger sheet. I will not have a marriage in columns, with debits and credits. Everything I have, everything I own, is yours now, too. You have already given me so much I cannot repay, dear Amy. Don't you see that? I thought I would end my days here, one just like the one before, walking the estate, working in the laboratory, eating alone. And then you came, first with your puzzles and your words and then in person, with your challenges and your laughter and your absolute refusal to let me see the world the way I wanted to see it, and oh, Amy! I would give you anything, anything I could, to repay you. I am already in your deficit."
Amy reached for the lapels of his dressing gown and pulled him down, kissing him fiercely. There was only a moment's hesitation before he pulled her close, pressing along with his body as his mouth sank deeper into hers. Amy moved her palms to his broad shoulders, and Sheldon ran his hand along her side, the thin fabric of her flannel nightgown barely shielding her from his warmth. She felt exposed to him, open to him, and she only wanted to open herself more. When his thumb grazed the edge of her breast, she moaned deeply.
He snatched his hand away, breaking their kiss. "I'm sorry. I - I did not realize where my - Amy!" Before he could finish, Amy placed his hand around the breast in question, shivering as his palm engulfed it, and then she pulled him back for another kiss.
Even thought the kiss was hot and heavy, not breaking for pants, Amy gave up hope there would be more until his thumb grazed over her nipple. She broke the kiss to murmur in encouragement, "Yes, like that."
Sheldon looked down at her with wide eyes. "We're in your doorway."
"No one is here."
He pressed her against the frame, kissing her cheek, his thumb circling her nipple, making it rise hard and puckered. When his mouth covered hers, he groaned, pressing himself against her, and Amy felt his hard length against her stomach, making desire pool within her. Sheldon buried his face in her neck as he flicked and twirled at her breast, and Amy tilted her head back against the wood of the door frame, aching from the inside out.
"Stay with me," she panted.
"I'm here," he replied, finding her mouth again.
"No," she said, trembling as he tugged on her lower lip. "Come to my bed."
Everything stopped. Sheldon removed his hand from her breast. He straightened, pulling away from her, and the cool night air rushed to fill the front of her body where he had been. He was short of breath and his lips glistened with the saliva from their kisses. "We can't."
"Yes, we can," Amy said, staring at him. "This is your house."
He grabbed the edges of his dressing gown, pulling it across him, tugging the belt tightly. "For months, you have told me you could not endanger your reputation and I will not ask you to do so now."
"You're not the one asking." Amy didn't want to beg, even though every nerve ending in her body begged for his touch. "We are engaged. Howard and Bernadette have snuck through these halls before. And Rajesh, he's downstairs with Stuart."
"We do not speak of that."
"Then let us speak of us. Or not speak at all. Just . . . come to my bed."
"It is unseemly. To be discussing -" he voice lowered "- sexual congress in the middle of the night. In our night clothes!"
"It is not unseemly. It is often how it is done, in the night. And we are to be married!"
"In nine weeks, Amy. Nine weeks. You have waited sixteen months; what are two more?"
Almost delirious with desire, Amy asked, "Indeed. What difference is two months? Don't you want me, too?" Sheldon turned his face away, looking down the hallway, his mouth a firm line. "Is that it? You said once you couldn't imagine being in a physical relationship. Is that it? Kissing is fine, but anything more is off the table?"
He covered his face with his hand. "You know that is not so. You can - you can tell." He waved his hand down, toward what his dressing gown was failing to disguise. "I wish it were not so. I wish no one knew of these - these urges. You overwhelm me, and I come undone with you, and I act inappropriately. In the hallway of my own house!"
"It is not inappropriate. We love each other. We are to be married. I am not some trollop to be blamed for your natural desires!"
"That is not what I meant!" he growled. "I meant that I feel like my skin is burning around you and I cannot control it and I - I . . ."
"Have controlled everything here for so long?" Amy finished for him, softly.
He nodded, looking back down the hallway. Amy had the feeling he felt too ashamed to look at her.
"Are you frightened of being intimate with me?" Amy asked. "That you will lose even more control?"
"Yes," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought I'd be with a woman. I never wanted to be a woman. But I don't know what comes over me when I'm with you. It feels so right, but then, later, alone, it feels so . . . I don't know. Confusing. Overwhelming." He looked back at her. "I don't know what I'm doing, Amy. When I touch you."
"I think you're doing just fine," Amy said with a small smile. "It feels right to me, too." She reached for his hand. "Come to bed with me. We can stop whenever you like. But we can just do what feels right."
"We can't," Sheldon repeated but calmly this time. "I know it's what you want at this moment, and if that were all, I would consider it. But I know what you want in all your future moments and I love you too much to allow you to forget that. You don't have your device yet, do you?"
The reality of his words washed cold over her. She shook her head. "But we could just . . . touch each other," she offered weakly.
"Amy," he brushed her tangled hair out of her face, "I have only the vaguest ideas of how to do that. The booklet Leonard gave me was from a birth control clinic. It was about the mechanics and not the . . . frills, I suppose." He ended with a shrug. "It seems I have some research to do before the wedding."
"Research?"
He stood up taller. "I shall endeavor to approach it scientifically. It may not be easy to find, but surely the French or the Italians can be counted upon to have published some textbooks on the matter. If I'm asking you to wait, it's only fair that I make it worth that wait, with frills and all."
"Indeed." Except it came out as a surprised croak, so Amy cleared her throat and said it again, "Indeed. I do not read Italian, so I cannot account for them, but the French have published several, um, enlightening novels. I could provide you with a few titles -"
"Not novels. Not for this. I want facts, not hyperbole." Sheldon shook his head. "Science. I'll read about science for science." Then he frowned. "I hope the hyperbole of your novels hasn't gone to your head."
"Never fear. I'm quite certain it's accumulated elsewhere."
A moment of confusion passed over his face, but then he leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. Then he whispered in her ear, "First the facts, then the research, my dear."
"Hooooo," Amy said over the tickle in her ear.
Straightening, Sheldon walked away, his back upright. Amy watched him go, leaning against the doorframe. How could he do that? Switch so suddenly from passion to logic? And somehow make both sound so . . . alluring? Well, she could not. She slammed her door shut, making sure to lock it, and raced back to bed, not even bothering to pull the covers up before her hand found its way to where all the hyperbole had landed.
To be continued . . .
As previously mentioned in The Dispatch Inquiry, Cambridge University did not confer degrees to women until 1948, the last British university to do so. That did not, however, stop them from employing women (with degrees from Oxford and elsewhere) in their science labs, although, of course, these role were often under the oversight of men who took the majority of the credit.
Harrods Limited in London is one the world's largest and most lavish department stores. It has over 300 departments (including bridal gowns and troussaeu) and holds several Royal warrants. Of interest, it strictly enforces its dress code.
Thank you in advance for your reviews!