Chapter 5

The estate was lovely, built in the old style and probably quite ancient. It promised a great many nooks and crannies for her to explore when she had more time. Mrs. Baines, the old housekeeper, had the night off, so James showed her around some of the main residential portions of the house himself, and promised to give her a more complete tour in the morning. Mrs. Baines would probably insist on giving her a proper tour herself, he warned, with a fond smile which promised that she'd probably quite like the woman once they met.

He'd been right that she would love the library. She resisted the urge to enter and start studying the individual volumes there tonight, tired not only with her own emotions, but by the long train-ride and busy day before it. Tomorrow, she could it properly. Something told her she'd be spending a good portion of the coming months in this place. It was a big, comfortable room stuffed with bookshelves and possessing an enormous fireplace in one corner. A cluster of tables and chairs nestled next to the fireplace, making the cosiest reading nook she'd seen in ages.

"I told you you'd like it," James murmured at her elbow, smiling. "Would you like to see your room now? Or are you hungry?"

"I ate on the train," she reminded him, biting her lip. "And I'm a bit tired, James."

"And here I am dragging you hither, thither, and yon when you'll have plenty of time to look around later. You should have said something, Helen!" he protested, all contrition.

"It's fine, James. I wasn't tired earlier. And I've always wanted to see the place where you grew up..."

"Then you'll need to tour a number of boarding schools. This was only 'home' on the summer holidays."

She bit her lip at that, squeezing his arm and trying to imagine having been sent away like that, year after year. No wonder he'd never really had a close relationship with his parents. Poor man. It didn't seem to upset him dreadfully, but she couldn't imagine how lonely his childhood must have been.

"Take me to my room, James?"

"Of course. This way," he answered, offering his arm.

She accepted it without comment, following him from the library and up the stairs to her bedroom.

"I'm just down the hall, if you need anything and don't want to wake the servants," he told her, gesturing to another door. "Do you need anything before I leave you?"

"Will you come inside for a few minutes?" she asked quietly, unable to meet his eye. "I'm exhausted, but I don't want to be alone just yet."

He blushed, but didn't comment as he followed her inside. "I imagine you'll want help getting out of that dress, too. Should I send for a maid?"

"I'd rather you didn't. I'm not sure I'm ready to face anyone else just yet."

"You can't sleep in that, though," he protested quietly.

"If you could just unbutton and unlace me..." she began, feeling absurdly sheepish to be making the request, considering this man was now her husband, had the legal and moral right to do a lot more than just take her clothes off if he wanted. "I can manage from there."

"Well, of course, Helen. I assumed there would be more to it than that."

"It's the first couple of layers that are the hardest. I can manage my under-things on my own," she assured him, grateful to see the privacy screen set up in one corner. "You don't mind, do you, James?"

"Of course not. I'll be glad to help," he assured her quickly. "I'm surprised you didn't bring your maid with you from London, though..."

"Oh, I already found Greta a new position. I need to be careful of anyone too familiar with my body seeing me for some months yet. If, as you and Father proposed, we really are going to lie about the dates of the pregnancy..."

"Of course. It won't do to have even a loyal maid see your body changing sooner than should be possible. I suppose you're having your loosest dresses sent up for when you must leave the house?"

"I bought some special for the occasion. Ones I can put on and take off myself. I'll appear indecently independent, but I don't care about that, under the circumstances. But will your servants keep quiet?"

"They've been loyal to my family for a long time now. They'll understand if my new wife and I... became enthusiastic a bit early. It won't make much difference if they realize the timing is off. They're all faithful enough not to say a word. My father would never retain them otherwise."

"Is he a strict man?" she asked quietly.

"Very, but that won't matter. You won't have to deal with him often. He usually spends his time in India or other parts of the Empire. As long as you give him a grandchild and don't disgrace us with public affairs, he won't care how you behave in private."

She swallowed hard at his casual mention of affairs, remembering how, before she'd agreed to marry him, he'd promised not to make demands of her, or restrict her liberties. Was that what he had meant? That she could have affairs so long as she kept them quiet? It would, of course, suit his sense of fair play. He would have his affairs and she would have hers. It should have been a relief, but it didn't seem entirely... right. Part of her had assumed that he secretly had his heart set on a normal marriage. It was strange, and oddly a bit upsetting, to think he might not.

"You... think I'll have affairs?"

"John once told me that your... appetite is, uh... healthy. He shouldn't have said so, of course, but I can hardly unhear what he told me." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "The point is, I want you to be happy, Helen."

"So you keep saying," she sighed, turning her back to him. "Unbutton me, will you?"

"Have I made you angry?" he asked quietly, moving to stand behind her and quickly undoing her buttons.

"I don't know. No, of course not," she answered, shaking her head at the contradiction in her own words. "I just... wonder what you want from this marriage, James."

"Not to take anything you're unwilling to give, certainly," he told her, pushing her dress open in the back and fidgeting with her laces.

"I gave my consent when I married you," she pointed out.

"You didn't exactly have a choice. I chose not to see it as an enthusiastic acceptance of... that. It would be nice, Helen. Don't mistake me. It would be... more than nice. But I can't ask it of you, either. It must be your decision and I won't object if you'd rather bed another."

"Oh," she answered quietly, considering his words. "James, do you... do you love me?"

"Of course I do, Helen. I'm surprised you have to ask," he told her quietly, taking a step back. "There, you should be able to finish undressing from here."

She turned to face him, stomach churning a bit. "You love me, but you married me knowing that I might not love you. That we might never have a proper marriage? How could you do that?" she asked quietly.

"How could I not? I accepted a long time ago that you and I would never be together. Nothing's changed. I won't take advantage of your desperation to force anything upon you. If you choose me, in that way... it must be your decision."

"But you'd like me to?"

He shrugged, smiling weakly before turning away. "I'm sorry. I know this is not the wedding night you always wanted."

"Don't go, James," she sighed, grasping his shoulder lightly. "I've pictured my wedding night a lot of ways, but it never involved me alone."

"I... are you just asking for company, or..."

She bit her lip at that. "Just company, if you don't mind. I... I'd be grateful."

"Then I'll go change and be right back," he promised, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I don't like sleeping alone, either," James told her. "I also wouldn't mind the company. Just company," he added when she bit her lip. "Get changed. I'll be back in a few minutes."

It was so kind of him that she couldn't help but throw her arms around him and hug him tight for a long moment. He kissed her cheek again as he drew back, again promising to return shortly. She watched him go, finding a nightgown in one of the well-stocked drawers and hanging it over the privacy screen before she stepped behind it to change. Taking off her many layers of course took some time, and she was a little surprised that James hadn't returned by the time she shrugged on her nightgown and finished packing away all her daytime things. She wasn't entirely sure whether she should go to bed and wait, or go looking for him.

Before she had quite made up her mind to check his room, he knocked gently on her door, poking his head in again. "Are you decent?"

"Yes, James. I had plenty of time to get dressed. You've been gone an age."

"Yes, sorry," he apologized, entering with a pair of teacups on a tray. "I thought you might like a cup of mint tea to soothe your stomach before bed."

Her stomach wasn't bothering her nearly as badly as it had been for the past several days, but she still nodded gratefully. It would, if nothing else, help them both sleep. And sleeping was certainly better than lying awake thinking about what a couple properly should be doing on their wedding night.

Smiling, he set the tray down and handed her a cup of tea, scooping up the other and settling down on the window seat, gesturing for her to join him. Shaking herself to try to dispel the suddenly-shy feeling that had overtaken her, she perched next to him, biting her lip.

"It's just tea," he soothed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Is this all right?"

"It's fine, James," she assured him, biting her lip and leaning close.

She didn't love him, not as she'd loved John. But, surprisingly, that didn't change how lovely it felt to be in his arms like this. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes, just enjoying the tea and his company.