Chapter ten:
It seemed the entire county turned out for the Mop Fair, which, according to tradition, had been held every second Sunday in June for at least a hundred years. The village, with its tidy shops and white and black thatched cottages, was almost absurdly charming. Crowds milled about the distinctive oval village green or strolled along the main thoroughfare where a multitude of temporary stalls and booths had been erected. Vendors sold penny toys, foodstuffs, bags of salt from Lymington, glassware and fabrics, and pots of local honey.
The music of singers and fiddlers was punctuated by bursts of applause as entertainers performed tricks for passers by. Most of the work-hiring had been done earlier in the day, with hopeful labourers and apprentices standing in lines on the village green, talking to potential employers. After an agreement was made, a penny was given to the newly hired servant, and the rest of the day was spent in merrymaking.
Browsing among the stalls, people feasted on hand-sized pork pies, leek pasties, apples and pears, and various types of ales or homemade wines.
It had been approaching the night, as they had arrived at Gresley Common, with only a few sprinkles of the predicted rain. Rose had dressed in one of Trudy's smocks, it was a dark grey with black tights beneath. It was high necked, and possibly far too loose across her chest because she found it was gaping at the areas where it should be tighter but an ill fitting gown wasn't a deterrent. Nevertheless, she had shoved a black hat of Trudy's on her head, and allowed Trudy to powder her face, almost excessively and applied a dark red lip and smudged eye to try to conceal what 'ladylike' features she may have. Her hair was in a tight, simple bun, without any strands loose and as she had found Jack, waiting for her at the servants exit, with no one knowing where she would even be going aside from Trudy, Rose had felt the pangs of excitement within her stomach. She had never felt happiness like it. Not even when she was engaged, or about to be married. Perhaps, not even when she had discovered her pregnancy…
Glancing at Jack, in a once-white shirt, black working trousers and brown boots, she thought he should have had at least one or two flaws, some irregularity of skin or structure but there wasn't. Even as his hair was shoved beneath a dark flat cap, and his hands were shoved casually into the pockets of his jacket and a cigarette dangled from his lips. As he bent his head toward her, the perishing sun struck brilliant spangles in his eyes.
''So, who are we and what are we doing here?'' Rose asked in a quiet voice as they approached the dense crowds and mingled in amongst the hustle and bustle of everyday life in a small village.
''I should be a Yorkshireman, I guess, but I think I would be found out as soon as I open my mouth. How about we don't speak at all unless we have to.'' Jack kept his voice quiet. ''I could be a miner, taking my friend to the fair.''
''I thought those who escorted friends to fairs were scoundrels no matter what their class. Should a woman not be accompanied by her husband?'' Rose emphasised the words, with her hand at Jack's forearm as he led her towards a stall.
''You need to slouch. This is a fair. Not dinner at the Ritz.'' Jack whispered, and Rose tried, the best she could to loosen her posture with her corset digging so rigidly into her entirely. Her gaze, she kept down, as she examined several embroidery silks. Reaching out her delicate fingers, Jack saw that she had removed her wedding and engagement rings. Both of her hands were completely bare. As he caught her gaze from beneath her hat, she knew that it was something that he had noticed.
''Do you do embroidery?'' Jack kept his voice low, and Rose nodded in return. She raised her brow to indicate the two silks which she had selected and Jack nodded, taking them within his fingers and Rose moved behind him.
''My wife will take these two.'' Jack caught the attention of the seller in the most bizarre attempt at a British accent. If the seller noticed, he said nothing and exchanged simple conversation with Jack until coins were given.
Jack offered Rose his arm. "Walk with me."
Rose could have objected to the soft-voiced command, except this was probably the last time she would see him for a long while, at least out of the house. If not the only time. And it was difficult to resist the beguiling gleam of his eyes.
"Why did you say I was your wife?" she asked as they moved through the crowd at a relaxed pace. It did not escape her that many gazes strayed to the handsome man beside her.
"Because isn't that what you wanted, for tonight? To be the wife of a miner and not have a care in the world?'' Jack replied cheerfully, "and anyone could see your marriage line. It's as clear as day."
"Marriage line? Where is it?" Rose took her hand from his arm and scrutinised her own palm.
Jack drew her with him beneath the shade of a bulky beech tree on the edge of the green. Crowds milled across the cropped oval, while the last few swags of sunlight crumpled beneath the horizon. Torches and lamps were already being lit in anticipation of evening.
"This one," Jack said, taking her left hand, turning it palm upward.
Rose's fingers curled as a wave of embarrassment went through her. She should have been wearing gloves, but Trudy's best pair had been stained, and her second best pair had a hole in one of the fingers, and she hadn't yet managed to buy new ones. To make matters worse, there was a scab on the side of her thumb where she'd gashed it on the edge of a metal pail one of the maids had left about, and her nails had been filed childishly short after she'd chewed into them during the early hours of that morning. They appeared to be the hands of a housemaid, not a lady. For one wistful moment she wished she had her rings still upon her finger, at least they would distract from her fingers.
Jack stared for a moment. As Rose tried to pull away, he closed his hand more firmly around hers. "Wait," she heard him murmur.
She had no choice but to let her fingers relax into the warm envelope of his hand. A blush raced over her as she felt his thumb nuzzle into her palm and stroke outward until all her fingers were lax and open.
His quiet voice seemed to collect at some hidden pleasure centre at the base of her skull. "Here." His fingertip brushed over a horizontal line at the base of her little finger. "More than one marriage. There will be two. The second will be a long one. And these . . ." He traced a trio of small vertical notches that met the marriage line. "It means you'll have at least three children." He squinted in concentration. "Two girls and a boy. Adeline, Jane, and.. Cornelius."
She couldn't help smiling. "What?"
"After his father," he said gravely. "A very distinguished farmer of course. A strong, powerful name."
"For a horse, perhaps. "
The spark of teasing in his eyes made her pulse jump. She took his hand and inspected the palm. "Let me see yours."
Jack kept his hand relaxed, but she felt the power of it, bone and muscle flexing subtly beneath sun-glazed skin. His fingers were well tended, the nails scrupulously clean and pared nearly to the quick.
"You have an even deeper marriage line than I do," Rose said.
He responded with a single nod, his gaze not moving from her face.
"And you'll have three children as well…or is it four?" She touched a nearly imperceptible line etched near the side of his hand. "Only two children. The one on the side means I'll have a short engagement or I don't know…that could be another child."
"You'll likely be prodded to the altar by the end of some outraged father's rifle."
He grinned. "Only if I kidnap my fiancée from her bedroom." She studied him.
"I find it difficult to imagine you as a husband. You seem too solitary."
"Not at all. I'd take my wife everywhere with me." Jack's fingers caught playfully at her thumb, as if he'd caught a wisp of dandelion thistle. "We'll travel from one side of the world to the other. I'll kiss her awake every morning. I would make sure the children were well informed and travelled." Rose averted her gaze from him, her cheeks turning blood-hot and sensitive. She moved away, needing to walk, anything to break the flushing intimacy of the moment. He fell into step beside her as they crossed the village green.
''Why did you leave America, truly?''
"I've told you."
Rose glanced at him in surprise.
"I was eighteen years old," he said.''I needed to experience more than just the country I was born in,"-he flashed a brief, mischievous smile in her direction,"and I found myself wanting to go to Paris.''
''And that wasn't what you expected?''
''No, so I wound up here. Somehow. And I stayed.''
''Do you regret staying?''
"I loved Paris. I love Italy. I felt lonely though." Jack's expression softened with reminiscent fondness. "In many ways I feel less lonely now, but more so as well.''
"It couldn't have been easy for you," Rose said, feeling compassion for the boy he had been, orphaned and obliged to make his own way in the world. "I wonder if you didn't try to go back to Wisconsin."
"I had promised I wouldn't." Seeing a leaf fluttering down from an overhead tree branch, Jack reached upward, the clever fingers plucking it from the air as if by sleight of hand. He brought the leaf to his nose, inhaling its sweetness, and gave it to her.
"I stayed where I wanted to," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Waiting for nature to call me wherever I must go next. That was what brought me to Hickory House, and I have been waiting for God to move me on ever since."
Rose chafed the crisply pliant skin of the leaf between the pads of her fingers."But he never did."
Jack shook his head.
"You've been treated well in your employment?"
"Too well." A frown swept across his forehead. "The lady of the house has become something of a friend.''
"Yes, I've heard about that." She smiled at him. "But since I don't believe it. I must ask how you know how to read palms?''
Jack laughed. ''The house maids came back from this fair this afternoon all boasting about their fate; their husbands and children. They must have visited a fortune teller. They showed me how to read it and I found it funny. They were all excited as geese were flocking about me. I got out of there.''
Half amused, half envious, Rose asked, "Had you ever experienced this problem before? Young women flirting."
Jack shook his head. "But I should have seen it coming. It's fate apparently." Stopping with her, he showed her his palm, where a cluster of star-shaped intersections glimmered at the base of his forefinger. "Family.'' came his glum explanation. "I will have security and a large family."
Rose wished to laugh until they came to a nearby vendor with a pitcher of alcohol.
''Could we have two please?''
The vendor poured two dark liquids into cups and handed them to Jack and Rose. He paid them, before steering Rose onwards.
Taking her elbow, he guided her carefully around an uneven patch of ground.
''What is it?''
''Spiced ale.''
Rose brought the cup to her lip, feeling particularly strange, she took the entire lot back in one shot and failed to even screw her face in disgust afterwards. Watching her incredulously, Jack sipped his own before joining her in downing the entire lot but this time, his face contorted into an apparent dislike to the taste of it.
''You're crazy, that tastes like horseshit.''
''No, it is sweet. I didn't mind it.''
''That's disgusting!''
Rose was tempted to remove her hat, now that there were less crowds but thought better of it. Instead, she moved it further out of her eyes and a red tendril flickered from beneath the brim.
Jack brought her to a stall set up by the village wine shop, and bought two cups of plum wine. She drank the tart, slightly sweet vintage in thirsty gulps, making Jack laugh quietly. "Not so fast," he cautioned. "This stuff is stronger than you realise. Any more and I'll have to haul you home over my shoulders like a felled deer."
"It's not that strong," Rose protested, unable to taste any alcohol in the fruit heavy wine. It was delicious, the dry plummy richness lingering on her tongue. She held out her cup to the wine-seller. "I'll take another."
Although ordinarily proper women didn't eat or drink in public, the rules were often cast aside at rural fairs and festivals, where gentry and commoners rubbed elbows and ignored the conventions.
Looking amused, Jack finished his own wine, and waited patiently as she drank more. She set her empty wine cup at the corner of the stall, feeling light-headed. The second cup of wine had been a mistake. And going anywhere with Jack, with night deepening and revelry all around them, would be yet another. But as she looked into his blue eyes, she felt absurdly reckless. Just a few stolen minutes... she couldn't resist the lawless mischief of his smile.
"Trudy would worry if I don't go back soon. Adeline won't nurse for a few more hours but..."
"She knows you're with me."
"That's why she will worry," she said, making him laugh.
They paused at a table bearing a collection of magic lanterns, small embossed tin lamps with condensing lenses at the front. There was a slot for a hand painted glass slide just behind the lens. When the lamp was lit, an image would be projected on a wall. Jack insisted on buying one for Rose, along with a packet of slides.
"But it's a child's toy," she protested, holding the lantern by its wire handle.
"What am I to do with it?"
"It's pointless entertainment. Play. You should try it sometime."
"Playing is for children, not adults." Rose stated. With a deep need to play now. Just a little.
"Oh, Rose," he murmured, leading her away from the table. "The best kind of playing is for adults."
They hemmed the edge of the crowd, weaving in and out like an embroiderer's needle, until finally they drifted free of the torchlight and movement and music, and reached the dark, luminous quiet of a beech grove.
"Are you happy out here?''
"I would rather not answer honestly."
Jack's startled glance cut through the shadows.
''I am not unhappy. I am extremely grateful to be out." Rose said quickly. "A wonderful opportunity to see the village."
''You don't regret coming?''
"Of course not."
Jack's hand touched the side of her face. And she jumped. Her stomach felt as though she was falling.
"Easy, all right. " A brief, electrifying pause. "In another lifetime, we would be more than friends."
Her heart turned in a painful revolution behind her ribs. "There's no such thing as another lifetime. There can't be. Or is that what the servants told you from their trip to the fortune teller?"
He was silent as if her answer had surprised him, and then a wandering laugh slipped from his throat. ''No. It wasn't that.''
Jack pried the wire handle of the magic lantern from her shaky grip, and set it near their feet.
"Complicated explanations are sometimes more accurate than the simple ones." Rose shook her head, unable to speak as he took her shoulders, fitting her against himself with extreme care. Her pulse ran riot. She shouldn't allow him to hold her. Someone might see, even secreted in the shadows as they were. But as her muscles drew in the warm pressure of his body, the pleasure of it made her dizzy, and she stopped caring about anyone or anything outside his arms.
Jack's fingertips drifted with stunning delicacy over her throat, behind her ear, pushing into the satiny warmth of her hair. "You are an astounding girl.''
Gooseflesh rose wherever his breath touched. "I can't f-fathom why you would think so."
Jack's playful mouth traced the wing of her brow. And he knew that he shouldn't. And she knew that she shouldn't allow it. But, Cal had never once made her feel so fragile and beautiful from his close proximity.
"I find you interesting. I want to open you like a book and read every page." A smile curled the corners of his lips as he added huskily, ''the in and outs of it all.'' Feeling the stiffness of her neck muscles, he coaxed the tension out of them, kneading lightly. "I want you, to be you.''
''It isn't something that I can just be. The truth is, I don't know how to truly be myself, only when-'' she stopped, and his fingers stopped moving, but she pushed aside the fear and continued, ''only when I am with you. Like today. Like last night. Like when I read a chapter of my novel and I am amused and the first person that I think to share it with is you. Or when Adeline pulls the most peculiar face. Or my cross stitches, which were supposed to be so straight, turned into a cresent without my realising and now I have a moon without even needing one…''
Jack broke into laughter, his breath so close to her that she could smell its sweetness. It was nothing like Cal,. nothing like him at all. The only times he had come so close was to kiss her, which he had escalated to the first night she had gone into his bed. The second time, she had conceived Adeline.
''That is you. The thing which comes natural to you.''
It was terrifying then, that the thing which came most natural to her was to move closer to feel how his lips would move to hers. She exhaled, in discomfort and frustration until a firecracker startled them both as it shot upwards into the air and a voice sounded closer to them then they realised.
''Hey, you!'' It must have called to them, but Jack didn't even bother to turn and instead, with her hand clasped firmly in his. He started to run. Rose thought she would undilute,; but she remained with him, clinging to Jack with her fingers. If her heart was hammering before, then it would fall out of her chest then in that second. Out on the open grass, it felt soft; if she was to fall, she would probably not injure herself. Her feet thundered beneath her, propelling her forward until suddenly, they came to a crossroads of a dark alleyway and Jack pulled her in, running about half the length of it when he stopped so abruptly that she crashed into the back of him and all she could do was allow him to pull her into the shadows whilst she gathered the wits of confusion.
''Who was that?''
''He works for your husband. Probably didn't see you, but he would have known me a mile away.''
She giggled almost silently and she fell against his body, sagging with relief when it was clear they were out of prying eyes and hidden away in an area shaded by the size of the scale of the wall.
''Imagine been caught in a shaded corner with a man who isn't your husband, huh?'''
''Shh.'' Rose placed her finger to his lips once again to silence him, his voice echoing about the secluded spot.
"Or for tonight, I am your husband and you are a miner's wife."
Rose pressed her finger to his lip again, more firmly, feeling the soft skin beneath.
"And you are the one to blame for it..."
Smiling beneath her finger, he kissed it before quickly removing it with his hand and finding her lips in the warmth, he took her mouth so unexpectedly that it stole her breath away. It was brief, a moment if that, but as he pulled back, Rose could only know how many barriers had been ripped from between them.