XVI
Adam sat at his desk, a glass of Kentucky bourbon in his hand, the bottle on the desk. It was his third drink and Adam knew that he should stop there so he corked the bottle and placed it in a desk drawer. He snorted in disdain; he had heard the term, being "driven to drink" before and had just scoffed. He felt that a man should always be in control of himself or he was weak—no one could make a man do anything. A man did what he did because he chose to do so. But now he understood those men whom he had always considered weak. And Jess' words came back to him: Any woman who has that effect on a man, drives him to drink to forget her, well, that's the kind of woman a man can't forget. So Adam considered that perhaps it wasn't Nell who was the problem but himself, his fears of losing her and it was manifesting itself in suspicions and jealousy.
Adam had gone to his den to try to review lumber orders for an addition to a house on Moss Road; it was going to be a playroom for the family's four children. That was au courant now in England, a nursery/playroom inside the home for the children to play and remain safely ensconced within the homes' walls, and many of the upper society of Sacramento hoped to imitate it. But Adam was still of the mindset that children belonged outside, running and playing but then, he had considered, he hadn't been raised in the city as these children in Sacramento were. But it did seem an affectation. And then he grinned sardonically. If he and Nell had children, she would want a nursery and a playroom as well. Of that, he was sure.
And when he thought of Nell. Adam pictured her face, so lovely, so dear to him and wondered about her as a child, how delightful she must have been. He smiled when he thought about her running around her father's house and her laugh filling the rooms like music; how enjoyable it would have been to indulge here every whim—just for a smile and a kiss. That was how it must have been for Clancy O'Connor. No wonder Nell has always believed that she could have everything she wanted—she always had.
And Adam took another sip of his whiskey and pondered. What had Nell done, really done that was so awful? Why was he so suspicious of her? Roses. She had received a bouquet of roses. Expensive, true, and a romantic gesture, but the card hadn't said anything about love and so initially he thought little of it. It seemed that Nell was more worried than he was and Adam felt discomfort as his pulse stepped up. Although his decisions were usually made from a logical perspective, his body reacted strongly to this situation and he was determined to find out why. "Listen to your gut," his father had always told him, "not just your educated mind. Your body tells you the truth every time." But Adam had dismissed that piece of "sage" wisdom out of hand. If a man thought things out logically, reasoned, then he would find the proper path to take. But Adam reconsidered—this was a matter of the heart and love—and the decisions, neither for him nor Nell were based on logic.
Logic would have demanded that he marry a more mature woman, a woman who wasn't still part giggly schoolgirl. Rational thought would impose upon him a woman who was serious in assisting him in his new business venture and who would know the consequences of flirting with another man. But his heart told him Nell was the one for him as she gave him such pleasure with her supple body and her kisses and her pure joy in him. When she would sit on his lap and they would talk, her head resting on his chest—oh, he sighed and shifted in the chair. And then he realized what had begun the poisonous jealousy—he hadn't been concerned, been worried about the roses but Nell had. That was it; Nell had been upset about the unsigned card as if a lover had sent them to cause dissension in her marriage. And at the gala, as Nell danced with man after man, he realized that he hadn't felt jealousy. Nell was just her delightful self and men enjoyed her company; she was beautiful and vivacious and would raise any man's spirits—as well as his cock, Adam thought. But Nell hadn't been flirtatious—just charming.
Until Henry Bailey. With Henry, Nell had behaved more familiarly and they had a serious conversation, not just on the dance floor but they had taken to a corner of the room and talked. But still, there didn't seem to be anything—they didn't exchange longing looks. And then there was Vincent.
Nell was upset by Vincent but at first; Adam put it down to awkwardness. But Adam was upset with himself as he found himself watching them carefully as they danced, scrutinizing their faces and attitudes. He wasn't the only one. Most people knew that Nell and Vincent had once been engaged and that she had called off the wedding in the last moment to marry Adam Cartwright. And then there was the challenge. Had Nell been encouraging Vincent? Had the flowers been from him after all and Nell wanted to protect him? Perhaps she had gone to Vincent's today to beg him not to send any more flowers as her husband was suspicious.
Adam thought all of it over, his jaw working. Nell had gone to see Vincent—she had confessed to that but not easily and no, Adam found no evidence that she had lain with him, no physical evidence. What had incited his suspicions most of all, what had angered him, was that Nell was going to lie about the flowers. If she were innocent of any wrong-doing, she wouldn't have been eager to destroy any evidence of the flowers that she believed were from another man. That was what had upset him—she was ready to deceive him. Adam couldn't bear deceit, being made a fool—he wouldn't allow it.
Adam slammed the squat glass down on the desk as if it was a gavel; he had made his decision. Nell would be homebound. In the morning he would tell Dawson that Mrs. Cartwright wasn't to go anywhere. He would also tell Nell that starting the next day, she was to work the office desk. Then he would see what she said, see if she protested being kept so close and under his eye. His beautiful Nell. He felt she loved him, but if she needed the youthful excitement of a secret love affair…and Adam sighed almost in despair; he actually had no proof of anything. He dropped his head in his hands, the words from Othello suddenly coming to mind: As, I confess, it is my nature's plague to spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy shapes faults that are not.
"Oh, Abby, I'm so glad you received my note and came!' Nell pulled Abby into the main room. It was barely past 9:00 am.
Margery stood in the opening to the room, framed by the portieres. "Shall I bring you some refreshments, Miss?"
"No, no, Margery. I'll call you if I need you." Margery left and Nell waited until she was sure her maid was out of earshot.
"Oh, Abby, I've made such a big mess of things."
"Oh, Nell, no. I was going to come by to see if you had gone to Vincent's yesterday and then your desperate note—I guess you did go see him, didn't you?"
"Yes, and when I came home…oh, Abby." Nell told Abby the whole story except for the fact that Adam had taken her; she would have been excited to relate the story if she had been the one who mastered him but it hadn't been that way and Nell was embarrassed. She was embarrassed to say how much she had enjoyed her husband's dominance but she shouldn't have; no lady would enjoy being mounted like a dog in heat—but she actually had relished it so Nell kept that to herself. "And then at breakfast this morning, Adam said that Bee, Jess' wife is about a month or so from her time and that starting tomorrow, he wants me to sit in the front to greet people and do some filing and typing. I don't know how to type and as for filing, I suppose it's easy enough but how dull. I mean Adam will be in the back and even if he weren't…oh, I don't know. I might enjoy working there if I could…you know…flirt with him a bit but I won't be able to. Can you imagine just sitting inside all day from morning to evening and having to deal with all those papers and people? And not only that, but I'll have to watch through that huge shop window all those people outside going places like shopping or lunch and I'll be bored to tears stuck to a chair. It wouldn't surprise me if he ties me to it!" Nell pouted.
"You can't really blame him, Nell."
"Abby! You're supposed to be on my side!" Nell was hurt. She felt self-righteous—she was the injured party and Abby was deserting her.
"Nell, look at things from his point of view. From all you've told me, it does look as if there's another man. You can't blame him for wanting to keep you out trouble. He must be terribly hurt."
"Well, you wouldn't feel so sympathetic to him if you knew how he treated me last night—rode me like a stallion does a mare—and rode me hard. And then he just dressed and went down to dinner as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I'm still sore!" When Nell saw Abby's eyes widen in shock, she immediately regretted telling what her sense of propriety had urged her not to reveal. And Nell also knew that Adam would be furious with her. He just might take his belt to her then! And much to Nell's disgust, she felt the wetness begin between her legs at the thought of Adam taking her over his knee and spanking her. She stood up. Nell didn't understand these sexual thoughts that ran through her mind. Too many forbidden novels.
One evening when Adam came to bed after spending a few hours working in his den, Nell was reading a novel Abby had lent her, Mrs. Fanny Brightbottom and the Tale of the Switch. Nell knew that the title was a pun as the novel was a series of absurd stories describing how Mrs. Brightbottom was repeatedly excoriated with a switch by her domineering and overwhelmingly masculine husband with unusually large genitalia. Then, after he would punish her (once for sneezing at dinner where he bent her over the dining table while their guests eagerly watched as he switched her) he would "impale her with his honed, steel-hard sword" and Fanny would swoon in sexual ecstasy. Nell, surprised by Adam coming to bed earlier than usual, tried to hide the novel under her pillow.
"What's the book, Nell?" Adam had asked while he sat on the side of the bed and pulled off his boots.
"What book?" Nell immediately regretted what was so obviously a lie. She blushed as he grinned at her ridiculous attempt at evasion.
Adam had merely leaned back and slid his hand under her pillow and pulled out the book. He read the title and laughed loudly. Nell was offended that he would laugh at her.
"Nell, why waste your time reading this trash." He tossed it on a chair and then moved next to her on the bed. "I can give you a more realistic view of what extreme and perverse sex is like and if you want to be taken over my knee, just say so—I'd be more than happy to oblige. But I don't think you'd really like it. You may find it titillating to read about, something to excite yourself before a bout of…self-abuse," he said as he slid a hand up her night gown and between her thighs, "but think long and hard about what you want. I might like paddling you too much and then what would you do, Nell?" He kissed her as he slid his hand further up her gown. "Whatever would you do?"
Nell snapped out of her reverie and glanced back at Abby who was watching her strangely. "Are you all right, Nell? This has you more upset than I would have thought." Abby stood up and kissed Nell's cheek. "I'm sorry, my dear. I shouldn't have taken Adam's side before I knew what actually happened. What are you going to do?"
"Let me get my hat and jacket and you and I are going out to the shop. If I am going to work there, I might as well see it. And since Dawson claims that the buggy is out of commission, we'll have a brisk walk and perhaps take in some shopping and lunch. What do you say?"
Abby smiled and nodded and Nell, after telling Mrs. Chevy that she was going out and noticing the worried look on the woman's face said, "Don't worry, Mrs. Chevy. I have a chaperone in Abby and if Mister Cartwright is upset with you for not locking me in my room, well, I'll take the blame!" And then Nell turned to Abby and with a mischievous smile said, "Perhaps Adam'll spank me!" And the two laughed.