Thank you for your continuous support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer.
If Arthur was in shock, when Gwen revealed one of the deepest secrets of her short-lived marriage to Liam, he didn't show it.
He remained as he was, laying contentedly with her in his arms.
"So, that was what you argued about," he murmured, his hand moving over her back in slow strokes.
"Yes. Because, I wouldn't let Liam..." She paused with a shaking sigh. "I have no right to be called Lady Pendragon. And I shouldn't have stayed at Hampshire Priory...afterwards, except...I didn't know, if I would've been allowed to keep my dowry. And I didn't want to go back to live with, Lord and Lady Gemswick...and besides all that...it was shameful. So I lied about being Liam's wife...intimately."
"Did someone actually ask if you'd slept with him?" Arthur asked, sounding incredulous.
"No, but I lied by omission. Which is just as bad, as the other kind of lying. The deplorable truth is, that I'm a virgin. A fraud."
She was stunned, to feel a rustle of suppressed laughter in his chest.
"I don't see how you can find cause for humor in that!"
"I'm sorry." But a smile lingered in his voice. "I was just thinking, with the tenants' drainage concerns, the plumbers, the estate's debt, and the hundred other issues I'm facing...finally, there's a problem around here I can do something about."
Gwen gave him a reproachful glance, and he grinned. Then, kissed her, before moving to find a more comfortable position, levering himself higher.
Reaching for the pillows, Gwen propped them behind Arthur's shoulders. Next, she sat to face him, with her legs half curled beneath her, and refastened her nightgown.
One of his hands came to rest on her thigh.
"Tell me what happened, sweetheart," he said.
It was impossible to hold anything back now, she realized.
She looked away from him, her fingers gripped around the placket of her bodice and said,
"You must understand…I had never been alone with Liam, until our wedding night. Lady Gemswick chaperoned us every minute, until after the wedding. We were married at the estate chapel. And it was a very grand wedding, a week-long affair. And…" She paused, as a new thought occurred to her. "You and Will should have been invited. I'm so sorry that you weren't."
"I'm not," Arthur said. "I don't know what I would have done, had I met you before the wedding."
At first, Gwen thought he was joking, but his gaze was deadly serious.
"Go on," he said.
"After the ceremony, Liam went to a tavern with his friends, and he stayed away all afternoon and evening. I was obliged to remain in my room, because...it's very awkward for the bride, you see. It's unseemly, to linger and talk to people before the wedding night.
So I bathed, and Claire curled my hair with hot tongs. Then, I dressed in a white lace nightgown, and sat alone to wait...and wait…and wait. I was too nervous to eat anything, and there was nothing to do. Finally, I went to bed at midnight, but I couldn't sleep, I just lay there stewing."
Arthur's hand tightened on her thigh.
She glanced at him quickly, and found him staring at her with such concern, it turned her insides to molten honey.
"Finally, Liam came into the room," Gwen continued, "Very much the worse for drink. His clothes were dirty, and he smelled sour, and he didn't even wash...just removed his clothes and climbed into bed. Then, he started..."
She stopped, reaching for her long braid, fidgeting with the end of it.
There was no way to explain, the ghastly surprise of being groped and overwhelmed, with no chance to become accustomed, to the feel of a man's naked body.
Liam hadn't kissed her...not that she had wanted him to...but he hadn't even seemed to be aware of her, as a person.
"I tried to hold still at first," she went on. "That was what Lady Gemswick said I was supposed to do. But he was so heavy and rough, and he was cross, because, I didn't know what to do.
I started to protest, and he tried to quiet me. He put his hand over my mouth...that was when I lost control. I couldn't help it. I fought and kicked him, and suddenly, he pulled away, doubling over. I told him that he smelled like a dung...mixen...and I didn't want him to touch me."
Pausing, she glanced at Arthur apprehensively, expecting disapproval or mockery. But his expression was inscrutable.
"I ran from the room," Gwen continued, "And spent the rest of the night, on a divan in Cassandra's room. She was very kind and didn't ask questions. And the next morning, she helped me to mend the torn lace on my nightgown, before the maids could see it.
Liam was furious with me the next day, but then he admitted, that he shouldn't have had so much to drink. He asked me to begin again. And I…" She swallowed hard, flooded with shame, as she confessed, "...I refused his apology. I said I would never share a bed with him, that night, or any other night."
"Good," Arthur said, in a different tone, than she had ever heard him use before.
He had glanced away from her, as if he didn't want her to see what was in his eyes, but his profile was hard.
"No, it was terrible of me. When I went to Lady Gemswick and asked what I should do, she said, that a wife must tolerate her husband's advances, even when he's in his cups, and it's never pleasant, but that's the nature of the marriage bargain. A wife exchanges her autonomy, in return for her husband's protection."
"Shouldn't the husband protect her from himself, if necessary?"
Gwen frowned at the soft question.
"I don't know."
Arthur grew silent, waiting for her to continue. And she did.
"During the next two days," she said, "All the wedding guests departed, still, I couldn't make myself go to Liam's bed. He was hurt and angry, and he demanded his rights. But he was still drinking a great deal, and I said I would have nothing to do with him, until he was sober.
We argued terribly. He said, that he would never have married me, had he known that I was frigid. And on the third morning, he went out to ride Ahmad, and…you know the rest."
Arthur's hand slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown, lightly stroking her bare thigh.
He studied her, his gaze warm and interested.
"Do you want to know, what I would have done," he asked eventually, "Had I made the same mistake as Liam?"
At her cautious nod, he continued.
"I would have begged you for forgiveness, on my knees, and sworn never to let it happen again. I would have understood, that you were angry and frightened, with good reason. I would have waited for as long as you needed, until I had earned back your trust…and then, I would have taken you to bed and made love to you for days. As for you being frigid…I think we've disproved that conclusively."
Gwen blushed, but kept his gaze.
"Before I leave…I know that a man has needs. Is there something I should do for you?" she asked.
A rueful smile tugged at Arthur's lips.
"I appreciate your offer, but at the moment, it hurts to take a deep breath. Being pleasured by you, would finish me off for good." He squeezed her thigh. "Next time."
"But there can't be a next time," she said bleakly. "Everything must go back to the way it was."
His brows lifted fractionally.
"Do you think that's possible?"
"Yes, why not?"
"Certain appetites, once awakened, are difficult to ignore."
"It doesn't matter, I'm a widow. I can't do this again."
Arthur caught one of her ankles and tugged her towards him, despite the pain it must have caused him.
"Stop it," she whispered sharply, trying to pull down the hem of her nightgown, as it rode higher on her hips. "You'll hurt yourself..."
"Look at me, Guinevere."
He took her shoulders in his hands and reluctantly, Gwen made herself, look into his eyes.
"I know that you regret Liam's death," Arthur said quietly. "I know that you married him with the best of intentions, and you've tried to mourn him sincerely. But Guinevere, love...you're no more his widow, than you ever were his wife."
The words were like a slap in the face.
Shocked and offended, she scrambled from the bed and snatched up her shawl.
"I should never have confided in you," she exclaimed.
"I'm only pointing out that...at least in private...you're not bound by the same obligations as a true widow."
"I am a true widow!"
Arthur looked sardonic.
"You barely knew Liam."
"I loved him," she insisted.
"Oh? What did you love most about him?"
Angrily Gwen parted her lips to reply, but not a single word emerged.
She pressed the palm of her hand to her stomach, as a sickening realization occurred to her.
Now that her guilt over Liam's death, had been at least, partially assuaged, she couldn't identify any particular feeling for him, except, the distant pity she would have had for a complete stranger, who had met such a fate.
Despite that, she had taken her place as his widow, living in his house, befriending his sisters, enjoying all the benefits of being Lady Pendragon.
He had known that she was a sham. He had known that she didn't love him, even when she herself hadn't known it. That was why his last words had been an accusation.
Furious and ashamed, Gwen turned and went to the door.
She flung it open, without pausing to consider the need for discretion, and ran across the threshold.
The breath was nearly knocked from her, as she collided with a sturdy form.
"What the..." she heard Will say, while he reached out to steady her. "What is it? Can I help?"
"Yes," she snapped, "You can throw your brother back into that river." Then, she strode away before he could respond.
Will wandered into the master bedroom.
"Back to your usual charming self, I see."
Arthur grinned and let out a ragged breath, willing the raging heat, of the past several minutes to retreat.
Having Gwen here, in his bed, had been the most exquisite torture imaginable.
His body was a mass of aches, stabs, and cravings, but he'd never felt better in his life.
"Why was she angry?" Will asked, then, "Never mind, I don't want to know."
Picking up the bedside chair with one hand, he turned it around, sat astride and braced his arms on the back of it.
"You owe me a pair of shoes."
"I owe you more than that," Arthur replied.
A few months ago, he reflected, it was doubtful, that Will would've had the physical strength, let alone, the presence of mind, to haul him out of the river.
"Thank you," he said simply, holding his brother's gaze.
"It was wholly self-serving, I assure you. I have no desire to be the Earl of Winchester."
Arthur gave a short laugh.
"Nor do I."
"Oh? Lately, the role seems a better fit for you, than I would have expected." Will glanced over him speculatively. "How are your ribs?"
"Cracked but not broken."
"You've fared much better than Harcourt."
"He was seated next to the window." Remembering the moment when the trains collided, Arthur grimaced. "How is he?"
"Sleeping. Gaius wants to keep him sedated to help with the pain and improve his chances of healing properly. He also advised sending for an oculist from London."
"Will Harcourt regain his sight?"
"The doctor thinks so, but there's no way of knowing for certain, until he's tested."
"And the leg?"
"The break was clean...it will heal well. However, he will be staying with us for quite a bit longer, than we'd planned. At least a month."
"Good. That will give him more time, to become acquainted with Cassandra."
Will's face went blank.
"You're back to that idea again? Arranging a match between them? What if Harcourt turns out to be lame and blind?"
"He'll still be rich."
Looking sardonic, Will said,
"Evidently, a brush with death hasn't changed your priorities."
"Why should it? The marriage would benefit everyone."
"And how exactly would you stand to benefit?"
"I'll stipulate, that Harcourt settle a large dower on Cassandra, and name me, as the trustee of her finances."
"And then, you'll use the money as you see fit?" Will asked incredulously. "Sweet Mother of God, how can you risk your life to save drowning children one day, and plot something so ruthless the next day?"
Annoyed, Arthur gave his brother a narrow-eyed glance.
"There's no need to carry on, as if Cassandra's going to be dragged to the altar in chains. She'll have a choice in the matter."
"The right words can bind someone more effectively than chains. You'll manipulate her into doing what you want, regardless of how she feels."
"Enjoy the view from your moral pedestal," Arthur said. "Unfortunately, I have to keep my feet on the ground."
Will stood and went to the window, scowling at the view.
"There's a flaw in your plan. Harcourt may decide, that Cassandra isn't to his taste."
"Oh, he'll take her," Arthur assured him. "Marrying a daughter of the peerage, is the only way for him to climb in society. Consider it, Will...Harcourt is one of the richest men in London and half the nobility is in debt to him. And yet, the same aristocrats who beg him to extend their credit, refuse to welcome him into their drawing rooms.
If he marries an Earl's daughter, however, doors that have always been closed to him, would instantly open." Arthur paused reflectively. "Cassandra would do well for him."
"She may not want him."
"You think, she'd rather become a penniless spinster?"
"Perhaps," Will replied testily. "How should I know?"
"My question was rhetorical. Of course she will agree to the match. Aristocratic marriages are always arranged, for the benefit of the family."
"Yes, but the brides are usually paired with their social equals. What you're proposing, is to lower Cassandra, by selling her to any common lout with deep pockets, for your own benefit."
"Not any common lout," Arthur said. "One of our friends."
Will let out a reluctant laugh and turned back to face him.
"Being a friend of ours, doesn't exactly recommend him. I'd rather let him have Bia or Athena...at least, they have enough spirit to stand up to him."
Cassandra was glad and relieved, that the Christmas Eve party and servants' ball, would be held as planned.
It had been discussed among the family, with all of them sensitive, to the plight of poor Mr. Harcourt, in his invalid condition.
However, both Arthur and Will had flatly said, that Mr. Harcourt would be the last person, to want a holiday to be canceled for his sake, especially, since it meant so much to the servants and tenants, who had worked so hard all year.
Going on with the celebration as planned, would be good for the morale of the entire household, and in Cassandra's opinion, it was important to honor the spirit of the holiday.
No harm was ever done, by encouraging love and goodwill.
The household bustled with renewed excitement, as everyone wrapped gifts and made preparations, while rich smells of pastries and joint roasts, drifted from the kitchen.
Hampers of oranges and apples, were set out in the entrance hall, along with baskets containing spinning tops, carved wooden animals, skipping ropes, and cup-and-ball toys.
"I feel sorry for Mr. Harcourt," Bia remarked. She and Athena were busy wrapping sugared almonds, in little twists of paper, while Cassandra arranged flowers in a large vase.
"He'll be alone in a dark room, and can't even see," she continued, "While the rest of us, are enjoying decorations that he sent us."
"I feel sorry for him too," Athena said. "But his room is far enough from the noise, that it shouldn't bother him. And since the medicine from Dr. Gaius makes him sleep most of the time, he probably won't even know what's happening."
"He's not sleeping now," Bia said. "According to Mrs. Winterbourne, he refused to take his afternoon dose. He knocked a cup out of her hand and said something beastly and didn't even apologize!"
Cassandra paused, in the middle of arranging a large vase of red roses, evergreen branches, white lilies, and chrysanthemums.
"He's in a great deal of pain," she said, "And probably frightened, as any man in his situation would be. Don't judge him unfairly, dear."
"I suppose you're right," Bia said. "It would be awfully dull to lie there with no diversions. Not even being able to read! Gwen said she was going to visit him, and try to coax him to take some broth or tea. I hope she had more luck than Mrs. Winterbourne."
Frowning, Cassandra trimmed another rose stem and slid it into the arrangement.
"I'll go upstairs," she said, "And ask, if there's something I can do to help. Athena, would you finish these flowers for me?"
"If Mr. Harcourt would like," Bia offered, "Athena and I could read The Pickwick Papers to him. We'll do all the characters' voices and make it very amusing."
"I could bring Josephine to visit him after I finish the flowers," Athena suggested. "She's much calmer than Napoleon, and it always makes me feel better, to have a dog with me when I'm ill."
"Perhaps he'd like to meet Hamlet!" Bia exclaimed.
Cassandra smiled into her younger sisters' earnest faces.
"You are both very kind. No doubt Mr. Harcourt will be grateful for the entertainment, after he's had a bit more rest."
She left the dining room and crossed through the entrance hall, enjoying the sight of the glittering tree.
And beneath the ornamented branches, a housemaid hummed a carol, as she swept up fallen needles.
Then, she went upstairs and found Gwen and Mrs. Winterbourne standing outside Mr. Harcourt's room. Both of them looked concerned and exasperated, as they conferred in hushed tones.
"I came to see how our guest was," Cassandra said, joining them.
Gwen answered with a frown.
"He has a fever and can't keep anything down. Not even a sip of water. It's very worrying."
Cassandra glanced through the partially open doorway, into the shadowed room. She heard a quiet sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl, and the hairs on the back of her neck lifted.
"Shall I send for Dr. Gaius?" Mrs. Winterbourne asked.
"I suppose so," Gwen said, "Although, he stayed up most of the night watching over Mr. Harcourt, and he desperately needs a few hours of rest. Furthermore, if we can't persuade our patient to take any medicine or water, I don't know how Gaius could manage it."
"May I try?" Cassandra offered.
"No," the other women said in unison.
Turning to her, Gwen explained,
"So far, we've heard nothing but profanities from Mr. Harcourt. Fortunately, at least half of it is in Welsh, but it's still too vulgar for your ears. Besides, you're still unmarried, and he isn't decently clothed, so it's out of the question."
Just then, a curse emerged from the depths of the room, followed by a wretched groan.
And Cassandra felt a rush of pity.
"The sickroom holds no surprises for me," she said. "After Mama was gone, I nursed Father through more than one illness."
"Yes, but Harcourt isn't a relation."
"He's certainly in no condition to compromise anyone…and you and Mrs. Winterbourne are already burdened with much to do." She gave Gwen a pleading glance. "Let me see to him."
"Very well," Gwen said reluctantly. "But leave the door open."
Cassandra nodded and slipped into the room.
Stay safe!