Once Upon a Tower (10 page)

Fourteen

No. 20 Curzon Street, London

The Earl of Gilchrist’s town house

“Y
our fiancé,” said the earl, with icy precision, “initially agreed to a five-month betrothal, but now he wishes to reduce that period. As I believe I mentioned to you, he has recently come into guardianship of an orphaned sister, a very young child. I gather he is worried that she will remain motherless during the interval, though he expressed no pressing concern when he asked for your hand in marriage.”

The Gilchrists had returned to London directly after the wedding, and Gowan had gone back to Brighton to talk to those bankers. Edie was secretly counting the days until the conference of bankers concluded. Tomorrow, she thought, or even tonight.

“I would be pleased to agree,” she said, shaping her tone to docile compliance. The last thing she wanted was to spur her father to a fit of righteous rage by pointing out the fact that he had neglected to mention Susannah to her altogether.

“I do not like it,” he said abruptly. He wheeled around and put his glass back on a table.

“May I inquire why not?”

“The duke isn’t the man I believed him to be.”

“That is not true,” Edie protested. “Gowan is precisely—”

“
Gowan?
You address him by his given name? That is outrageous.” Her father’s mouth flattened into a thin line.

She wanted to snap back at him, but it would only hurt her cause. “I did not mean it in that fashion,” she offered.

“I am expected in Parliament,” her father stated. He bowed, and left.

He did not come home that night for supper. “You know,” Edie said at the table, “I think you treat my father altogether too kindly, Layla. Here you are in the house whereas your husband is out gallivanting, doing whatever he pleases.”

“What would you have me do? Flirt with Gryphus? I don’t even like the man. He’s too young.”

“Of course not.” Edie put down her fork. “But why should your life be so miserable? I’m not saying that you should flirt, Layla. I’m just saying that perhaps you should build a routine so that you aren’t so gloomy when Father fails to return home.”

Layla looked dubious.

“I know that I gave you something of an excuse, since I didn’t debut until this year, but there is no reason for you to stay at home these days. Yet you rarely leave the house.”

“That’s what a wife is supposed to do.”

“But her husband is supposed to join her at home. Not to mention the fact that he is supposed to escort her to balls and plays. My father is rarely here, and when he is, he’s so cold you could chill an ice by him. Where would we be going tonight, if Father hadn’t accepted Kinross’s offer? If I were still searching for a husband, in other words?”

“Almack’s, I suppose,” Layla said. “It’s a Wednesday night and you were sent a voucher after your debut.”

“Right,” Edie said. “That’s where we’ll go tonight.”

“But why? Your father won’t know where I am, nor will he care. What if he doesn’t come home all night, as he didn’t last night? He maintains that he sleeps in his chambers at the House of Lords.” She said the last with a patent lack of belief.

“Then you will have had a lovely time dancing, which is important, too. There is no reason for you to sit about twiddling your fingers while I bore you silly playing the cello.” Edie stood up. “I will ask Mary to dress me for dancing.”

“All right.”

Edie pointed at her. “
You
, Mistress Stepmother, shall be happy tonight.”

“I suppose.” Layla looked willing but incapable, her smile wobbly.

“Tell Willikins that we want champagne before going out. We’ll both get bosky and then dance with anyone who puts a hand in our direction. Let the gossips tell Father that!”

Edie came down the stairs a while later looking somewhere between maidenly and seductive. She’d had no word from Gowan indicating that he had returned to London, but of course one didn’t dress merely to please a man.

Though that was what she had done.

Mary had used the curling iron to straighten her hair, and then had managed to make most of it stay above her shoulders.

Layla gasped. “Oh, Edie, darling, you look utterly delicious!” She looked down at herself. “You’re so slender, and I’m getting fat.”

“You are not fat. You are delightfully curved, Layla. There’s a difference. And I am not slender, either.”

“You’re slender in comparison to me, probably because you don’t take afternoon tea. Every one of these curves is made from crumpets. Your champagne awaits.” Layla waved a glass in her direction. “Perhaps I have too many curves for your father’s liking.”

“Layla, dearest, are you bosky already?” Edie accepted a glass from Willikins, who bowed and left.

“I believe I am a bit tipsy. It’s my new slimming regime; I’ve decided to eat only grapes after three in the afternoon. No more tea. It’s my downfall.”

“Absurd!”

“If I manage to stay on this regime, I might be able to win your father back from Winifred.”

“Winifred? Who’s she?” Edie sat down opposite her stepmother and took a sip of her champagne. Then, after another look at Layla, she took a proper gulp. She might as well get in the spirit of things. “Are you saying that you have found out the name of Father’s mistress?”

“No, but I’ve named her Winifred. It’s a name I’ve always loathed, so that makes it easier.”

“Makes what easier?”

“Loathing her, of course,” Layla said. “For wrecking my less-than-happy home. I also consider her responsible for the fact that I have eaten too many crumpets.
And
for the fact that the only reason my husband gets up in the night is to use the chamber pot.”

“Ha,” Edie said, giving that jest precisely its due and no more.

“What I need is inspiration. I shall use Winifred as a spur to reduce. I’m sure she’s slender and sylphlike and utterly gorgeous.”

“
You
are utterly gorgeous,” Edie said, watching as Layla quaffed half her glass of champagne.

“More importantly, the time has come,” Layla said, pausing dramatically, “to tell you the secrets of the marital bed.”

“I know them,” Edie assured her hastily.

“No, no, not the basics. What I’m about to tell you are secrets that are passed from mother to daughter.” Layla paused and then frowned. “Do you know about the
petit mort
?”

Edie was pretty sure she did, so she nodded.

“It’s just like us to have no word for it ourselves,” Layla said a bit crossly. “We have to resort to French, as if Frenchmen were the only ones able to give a woman pleasure. I could tell you—” She caught herself. “You wouldn’t appreciate the details, as it’s your father in question.”

“No,” Edie said. “I would not.”

“Well, the most important thing to remember is that anything a man asks you to do for him can and should be reciprocated.”

Edie frowned. Granted, her understanding of intercourse was at a rudimentary level, but she couldn’t imagine any reciprocity.

“No, not that,” Layla said, waving her hands. “You’ll know it when you see it. I mean, when you are asked to do it. Just take my word for it.”

“All right.”

“I have to say that I consider this extremely unlikely, but should Kinross prove to be able to maintain his tool for only a few minutes, or if he can’t get it up at all, I can help. There are potions for that! So just tell me, darling, and I’ll get my hands on the right medicine. I could even send one to you by post.”

“Thank you,” Edie said, wondering whether women informed their husbands of the potion’s effects or administered it secretly.

“And here’s the big secret, though I never thought I’d need such a thing.” Layla’s eyes filled with tears. “But I have.”

Edie was starting to feel bewildered. “Does it have to do with virginity?”

“That? Oh no. That didn’t hurt much at all. Don’t let those old wives’ tales frighten you. There may be a few drops of blood, which will make your Scotsman happy. Men are absurdly proud to think they’re plowing a virgin field.”

“A
field
?”

“You’re the field, darling, and he has the plow, if you follow me. Though perhaps a hoe would be a better comparison. No, the real secret has to do with leading your husband to believe that you are experiencing pleasure when you aren’t.”

“Oh dear,” Edie said. The more she heard about her father’s marriage, the more broken it seemed.

A tear slid down Layla’s cheek. “We never had any trouble before everything turned to having a baby. It’s just so distressing.” She sniffled. “But that won’t happen to you. Did I tell you how envious I am that you have a child ready-made and waiting for you in Scotland?”

Edie kept silent. She could hardly tell Layla that she had lain awake the night before worrying that little Susannah wouldn’t like her.

“Some women never have to fret about these matters, because their husbands don’t care if they experience pleasure or not. But good husbands
do
care. And there are times when, if you don’t bring it to a close, he’ll just keep trying until you want to scream. What men do not understand is that a woman may be so fatigued or miserable that she simply can’t feel all that he might wish her to feel. Are you following, Edie?”

“More or less.”

“So in that case, she has only one recourse: she acts the part.”

“Sorry?”

“Acts,” Layla said. “Performs. Pretends.”

“Performs what?”

“
Le petit mort
.”

“Oh.”

“You’re not following, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Making love is a noisy business,” Layla said.

“It
is
?” Edie was growing more and more fascinated, if still confused. She hadn’t quite imagined it that way.

Layla put down her glass, now empty, and tipped back her head. A husky, sensual moan poured from her lips. She slipped her hands into her hair and tossed her head back and forth. “Yes,
yes
, just like that,
more
, more!”

The door opened and Willikins appeared behind Layla’s shoulder.

“Ahhh, like that,
mon cher
, harder, harder! You . . . you are so . . . so . . .” She tossed her head again and her voice rose. “You make me mad. You make me delirious. I’m beside myself. I’m—I’m
coming
!”

Willikins was frozen in place.

Layla snapped upright, patted her hair back into place, and said, “Willikins, we should both like our glasses refilled.”

“I can imagine that you’re thirsty,” Edie said, giggling madly.

“That is the secret to a happy marriage.”

Edie reserved judgment; it didn’t seem to be working for Layla. Willikins, meanwhile, began to pour champagne without visible signs of shock. He was worth every ha’penny her father paid him.

Layla downed half the contents of her glass at one go.

They were flute glasses, but still . . . Was it her third? “Time to leave,” Edie said, putting her own glass down. “Almack’s awaits.”

“Almack’s,” Layla said, with just the tiniest slur to her voice, “is not a place where an adulterous woman can spy on her husband’s mistress. Did I tell you that I’ve decided to remake myself? I’m tired of being Layla. It’s such a tiresome name. Impossible to spell.”

“Just be grateful you’re not named Edith. And you are
not
adulterous.”

“I’m aging, which is worse.”

“I don’t think the archbishop would agree with your estimation of relative evils.”

“Prematurely aging,” Layla said, sighing. “That’s what happens to women like me. We sit around getting old, while the Winifreds of the world steal our husbands. If I had been called Joséphine, it would all be different. No man would cheat if he were married to a Joséphine.”

“We really should call for the carriage.”

“I believe I’ll start speaking French,” Layla said, ignoring the question of Almack’s while picking up Edie’s glass and disposing of her remaining champagne. “It will be good practice. I could move to France rather than retire to the country.”

“
C’est la vie,
” Edie said. “That’s all I know, so our conversations will be short.”

“Darling, everyone can speak French if they just apply themselves. Here’s a good phrase:
Évacuez les lieux!
”

“What does that mean?”

“Evacuate the area!” Layla cried, waving her arm. “You never know when you might need to scream that in a crowded place. My governess taught me all sorts of useful phrases.
Êtes-vous enceinte?
That turned out to be not so useful. No, I am not pregnant.” She reached out and rang the bell. “I need more champagne before we leave.”

“We should go to Almack’s now,” Edie repeated. “Don’t they lock the doors and keep you out if you arrive even a moment too late?”

“You know I could
be
pregnant by now if your father wasn’t so stubborn,” Layla said, continuing to ignore her. “You do know why rabbits have so many baby bunnies, don’t you?”

Edie hauled her stepmother to her feet. Tipsy or not, Layla was delectable, like the prettiest cream pastry a man could hope to eat. The bodice of her sky-blue gown seemed to indicate there was a severe shortage of silkworms in the world, but Layla definitely had the bosom for such a frugal use of cloth. “That dress is absurdly flattering on you.”

“I have to remember to hold in my stomach,” Layla said, heading for the door, Edie’s empty glass still clutched in one hand. “Oh, there you are, Willikins. Why don’t you pour me another glass, and I’ll drink it while I think about a cloak.”

Edie took the glass from her and handed it to a footman. “Our carriage, please, Willikins. Almack’s awaits.”

“As does the carriage, Lady Edith,” the butler replied, bowing. He turned to the footman and took Layla’s cloak in his hands. “My lady, if you will allow me.”

“Those rabbits, the ones with baby bunnies, know what they’re about,” Layla said, as Willikins draped the cloak about her shoulders. “Besides, Edie, I’ve changed my mind. We’re not going to Almack’s. They don’t have any champagne there. We shall go to Lady Chuttle’s instead.”