A Country Marriage (27 page)

Grateful for the fact that she must already look hot and dishevelled, she prayed that her discomfort wasn’t obvious, but every time she looked up, it was to find his warm, grey-green eyes fixed firmly on hers and sense from the nature of his smile that he knew
precisely
how flustered she was. Even with her pulse already racing out of control, each time that he took her hand or arm as the dance required, she felt a disconcerting jolt from somewhere deep inside her body. Just to be dancing with him would have been unnerving enough but it was being made so many times worse by the fact that the recent vision of his half-naked body was still faithfully fresh in her mind, and that seen this close, he appeared even more handsome than he looked from a distance, with his hair a true shade of gold, his skin an even summer-russet and the stubble on his chin bronze in the light of the lanterns.

In unsettling fashion, the notes of the music and the dancers around them became a demented blur, with faces in the crowd coming randomly into focus and then disappearing again as she spun around on his arm. Briefly, she thought she caught sight of Tabitha with her face set in an unflattering scowl. But with the music almost drowned by her terrifyingly loud pulse and Francis in charge of the speed with which she whirled around, she sensed rather than consciously recognised that the dance was building to a crescendo, until with a final spin on his arm, it came to an end; and when she eventually dared to look back up from her curtsey, he was already gone.

Drawing great gulps of air, she slipped into the shadows and collapsed onto the straw. Had that really just happened? Had she really just danced with a complete stranger? Well, perhaps that would teach her not to be so forward. After all, what did she expect if she went to stand in the line-up? Well, in her case, she had been expecting a family member, which would have been both harmless and entirely acceptable. Flopping backwards into the straw, she groaned. Having never experienced anything so unsettling she lay as still as her thudding heart and trembling limbs would allow, praying that no one would discover her in such a state of disarray.

*

Having downed a couple of ales to aid recovery of his own composure after his meeting with Annie, George glanced distractedly about. On the far side of the barn he could see Tom and Will discussing something, but was in no frame of mind to face Tom just yet. Then his eyes alighted on Robert, sitting in the corner, somehow managing to look both glum and secretive at the same time. Following the line of his brother’s repeated glance, he saw Lottie sitting alone in the other corner and quickly guessed at the nature of his brother’s apparent misery.

‘What’s the matter Robert?’ he asked, arriving undetected alongside him.

‘Nothing.’

‘That’s not what your face says.
My
guess would be that you’re gettin’ up the courage to ask young Lottie to dance.’

‘Well I’m not.’

‘Robert, it’s written all over your face.’

He watched his brother shifting uneasily.

‘What is?’

Not far away, the musicians were bringing the current dance to a hearty close, and George waited for the din to subside before continuing, ‘That you like Lottie.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Oh, come on, Robert. This is
me
you’re talking to now.’ With that, a group of dancers came to settle in the straw close by, and turning his back to them, George leant closer to his brother and lowered his voice. ‘Look, I can well remember what it’s like to be…
struck
by a young maid.’ Hearing Robert’s dismissive grunt, he continued, ‘No, truly Robert, I’m not sayin’ that to make you feel better. You’re most probably too young to remember but when I was about your age I had a tremendous
fascination
for Martha’s Ruth. She was so pretty with her long, red plaits looped around her head.’

‘What happened?’ Robert wanted to know, his curiosity apparently piqued.

‘Well, it pains me to admit to this now but I was too shy to do anything about it, so she never knew. And then eventually she took up with another lad and I spent weeks in a black gloom about it. Course, when Tom and Will found out, they never let me forget it. And between you an’ me, that ain’t the only time I missed out by being too… wary, either.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘But in the end you got Mary.’

‘Aye, in the end I got Mary,’ he replied, momentarily letting his mind slip from Robert’s problem.

‘See, what you said about Tom and Will, though, that’s why I ain’t asked her to dance,’ he became aware of his brother admitting. ‘If I do ask her, she’ll most likely say no and then everyone will see me make a fool of meself and I’ll never be allowed to forget it.’

‘Well, I don’t think she’ll
say
no. I fancy she likes you.’ Recognising the anguish on his brother’s young face, he racked his brains. ‘Tell me, you ever spoken to her?’

‘Aye, course.’

‘I mean properly; more than two words.’ Noticing that his brother didn’t answer, he scratched his head. ‘More than
one
word?’

‘I’ve
tried
, George but every time I go to say summat, my mouth dries up. She’s so
pretty
that when I’m near her I can’t think straight. I get all horrible an’ sweaty and I get these
feelings
I ain’t particular proud of either.’

‘That’s normal, Robert.’

‘Is it?’

‘Perfectly. It’s how you know you like her.’

‘Truthfully?’

‘Truthfully, Robert. But sometime soon, you got to get up courage to start talking to her.’

‘I’ve
tried
, George, truly. Some days I spend so much time wandering back an’ forth through the kitchen that Ma must be suspicious and Lottie must think I’m mazed. I try to watch what she does so that I can help; you know, bring water for her or take the kitchen scraps away.’

Above their hushed exchanges, the fiddler was calling the next dance and a number of people around them stirred.

‘And when you do that, what does she say?’

‘Nothin’. She just smiles an’ her cheeks go all pink and then she looks away.’

‘Well that’s a
good
sign.’

‘Is it?
How
?’

‘You know them strange feelings you were telling me you get?’ He watched Robert nod. ‘Well, when she goes pink, it’s the same for her.’

‘How do you know that? How do you know she isn’t just wishing I’d go away?’

‘Robert, trust me. I’m a good deal older than you and so I know rather more about… girls. What you got to do now, though, is go and ask her to dance. After that it’ll be easy.’

He watched Robert’s head fall forward.

‘I can’t.’

‘Well, ’tis your loss, Robert but just bear in mind what happened to me; someone else got there first. And being such a pretty little thing, some other lad is bound to notice her.’

‘Aye. I know that.’

Deciding that he couldn’t do any more to build his brother’s confidence, George patted his shoulder and made his way across to where he had earlier noticed Tom leaning against the wall with a glazed expression and his fist firmly around a mug of ale. He didn’t particularly relish the prospect of talking to him but had greater concerns now than his own discomfort.

‘Maybe you’ve had enough there, Tom,’ he said, removing the mug from his brother’s clammy grip, beleaguered afresh by Annie’s revelation and unable to meet his eyes.

‘Maybe I have,’ Tom replied, sounding less drunk than he had expected. ‘Or maybe I’ve not had enough.’

He shook his head.

‘No, I don’t think there’s much chance of that.’

‘Terrible, ain’t it, George?’

‘What’s that?’

‘So many young fruit, all ripening nicely; all in danger of withering on the tree for the want of a bit of nurturing by an experienced hand… all simply in need of—’

‘Now I
know
you’ve had enough!’

‘Tell me George, you ever want your life to be different?’ Tom asked, his sigh deep and his tone melancholy. ‘You know, ever wished that you’d taken a different turn, not done something, done something else instead, followed your heart?’

Staring back at his brother, he scratched his head. Given the lateness of the hour and Tom’s apparent inebriation, the question struck him a rather a profound one. And coupled with his feelings of duplicitousness, he hesitated.

‘Once or twice, some years back maybe but not of late, no.’ In an attempt at openness, he made himself look at his brother. ‘Why, do
you
?’ Tom, though, shrugged his shoulders and gazed across the barn. Following his eyes, he turned to see who his brother was looking at, half expecting to see Annie but unable to make out anyone who would be attracting his brother’s stare; there was really only Lottie sitting on a pile of straw and behind her, several fair-haired, young lads larking about. ‘What would you have done different, then?’ he ventured to ask.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ his brother replied, sounding then as though he wished he hadn’t said anything to start with and leaving George more than a little disturbed as he tried to banish the picture of Annie and the news she was about to impart. ‘So terrible to want summat you can’t have, though, ain’t it, George?’ he added morosely and ambled in the direction of the door.

*

For what seemed like ages, Mary sat alone in the near darkness hoping for her racing pulse to subside. But each time she thought she was close to recovering, a picture of Francis dancing opposite her would come to mind and she would flush all over again. Flustered and uncomfortable, she got up and squeezed her way outside, the sound of carousing gradually diminishing as she wandered further away from the doors. Grateful for the cool night air, she stood completely still and drew deliberately slow breaths in and out, in and out. Gradually, she started to feel less agitated, and after a minute or two more, decided that she might just be ready to find her husband and see whether he was set to go home. It seemed stupid now, anyway, to have ended up in such a ridiculous state over a dance with a good-looking man, and as her turmoil began to subside she felt cross at her own immaturity; it showed what a sheltered life she must have led if a single dance could reduce her to a quivering heap, especially since that was probably exactly what he had intended. Yes, like Tom, he was probably another one who enjoyed games at other people’s expense.

Weary beyond belief, she leant back against the wall of the hay barn. Earlier, she had seen the harvest moon rise full and burnished in a clear sky, the Queen of the Night resplendent in her amber robes, but now the silver-edged clouds had thrown a cloak across her gown and the yard was in obscurity. Drawing another deep breath, she straightened the front of her blouse and was about to turn in search of her husband when, apparently from nowhere, a warm hand grabbed her wrist and she felt herself being pulled around the corner and along between the two barns. Able to guess only that George was trying to scare her, she refrained from shrieking, allowing herself instead to be led a short distance further into the pitch blackness, where she was gently but very firmly placed up against the wall. Before she had the chance to challenge him, though, a warm mouth made contact with her own and with a start, she realised that this definitely wasn’t George. All she knew was that she was being kissed with skill and warmth, with neither hesitancy nor hint of apology, and that her spine felt as though it might at any moment dissolve. The exhilaration was astonishing; beyond anything she had imagined possible, and almost certainly made more intense by the identity of the man pressing hard against her.

Completely captivated, she felt one of his hands moving to loosen the ribbon of her blouse and fold aside her chemise. And with no move from her to stop him, he quickly lowered his mouth to her breast and, with the first touch of his lips to her skin, she was shocked to feel how her body arched towards him. As intense a response as it was unexpected, she shuddered, and when he brought his attention back to her lips, she returned his kisses, lost in a heady rush of sensations. For a split second, he seemed surprised by the warmth with which she was responding and then, apparently encouraged, slipped his hand inside the waistband of her skirt. Obligingly, she held in her stomach for him to slide his hand over her belly and down the inside of her thigh. Entirely consumed by his touch, she groaned, such arousal far beyond anything she had ever contemplated, and as every inch of her skin and every hair on her body came alive with anticipation, a deep longing was urging her on. Scarcely able to breathe, she realised that
this
was how being with a man was supposed to be.
This
was desire; both compelling and unbearable at the same time. And now that she had discovered it, she didn’t want it to stop.

Above them the clouds slipped silently onwards across the sky, until, through the finest of fissures, as if by way of silent warning, a single alabaster shaft of moonlight picked out his halo of golden curls. Although it passed in barely more than a blink, the image seemed to snatch her breath and with a gasp, she realised that this wasn’t some harmless daydream; she really was here, behind the barn with Francis Troke, on the very brink of betraying her husband. Instantly, she realised that no matter what her body was urging her to do and no matter that she had never been touched in such a way, it was both wholly wrong and absolutely unforgiveable. That recognition, though needing but a fraction of a second to register, seemed in her mind to take an eternity to surface, and in the brief moment while he was distracted by the buttons of his breeches, she slid out from between him and the wall and, frantically grabbing her blouse to her body, ran quickly back towards the safety of the yard.