The Outcast Earl (27 page)

“That Annie seems to be up to the task and trainable, though,” Betsy observed, looking resplendent herself in a bracing gown of bright purple. For once it was unrelieved by any other offsetting hue, but Betsy had draped a fuchsia shawl around her neck and pinned it securely.

“Yes, she’s learning quite well, and has a sweet disposition to boot, but I must still tell her absolutely everything, and she’s just now learning how I like certain things just so.” Abigail bit her lip. “About Jenna.” She sighed. “She’s not going to be happy here, is she? I’ve seen her every day, but she looks lost and a little bewildered by the, well, countryside.”

Betsy frowned. “You’d know more about that than I would,” she grumped. “I never did get to know the chit.” Having already eaten, she watched Abigail take a few bites, then asked abruptly, “Well, did he do it?”

“Do what?” Abigail asked, frowning.

Betsy waved her hand in the air. “Have relations with you?” she expanded.

Abigail still had no idea to what relations Betsy might be referring. She stared in confusion at Betsy and finally said, “I’m still a virgin, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hmph,” Betsy grunted. “And here I was thinking he’d have you in hand by now and taken care of that, as it would end any question of the marriage not going forward. This is a damnably awkward conversation to have with your goddaughter. I don’t suppose your mother explained even one thing to you?”

“Mother thought I ought to be able to delay the wedding until after Gloria’s engagement was announced, and that she might have a way to salvage the whole situation by then. But it’s not going to happen. Meriden would never break the engagement and would undoubtedly kick up a fuss if I even suggested such a thing.” Abigail frowned. “Did Meriden explain anything to you, or are you still in the dark as to how this all started?”

“He said your father was a fool and didn’t deserve even your regard,” Betsy returned brusquely. “Moreover, Winchester couldn’t be trusted to be responsible for your care, seeing as how little he regarded your wishes in the matter and had agreed to sell you to the first bidder. Indeed, the earl felt quite strongly that any possibility of you residing under Winchester’s roof again was a fate worse than having to reside in the bowels of hell itself. Quite passionate on the subject, I thought. More so than I expected,” Betsy groused. “The dislike he has taken to your father seems rather out of character for Winchester’s insipidness, although I would definitely agree with him that my brother’s personality leaves much to be desired. My father was the same way.”

“He wasn’t the first bidder, precisely.” Abigail smiled. “There have been offers. Some Father refused, two I refused myself, earlier this year. None were from anyone I cared to entrust myself to, in any event.”

“You didn’t even know Meriden, although I can see that’s changed in recent days.” She narrowed her eyes at Abigail. “I’d wager my best bonnet that you didn’t ‘entrust’ yourself to Meriden either. This engagement bears the distinct mark of your father’s scheming.”

Abigail sat still, then smiled easily at her aunt. “You’d win that bet,” she admitted. She thought back through the days, lingering not just on the intimate moments, but on the revealing ones. “However, you are also right in saying that by now I know him better than any other man of my acquaintance, including Father. No matter what prompted the initial arrangements, Aunt, Meriden has proven himself to be diligently responsible, protective and generally considerate of my wishes.”

She saw Betsy start to laugh and shook her head. “No, I don’t mean that he is in any way acquiescent, or that he’s perfect. But I can see that he’s trying.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that I’m
aux anges
about marrying him as soon as Tuesday, but he’s by far the
only
man I’d marry that quickly. Despite what is said about him in town, he’s not the devil. He does have a temper, but he doesn’t take it out on servants or children or me, even when I’ve angered him. And, despite all, that scratch on his face isn’t anything other than a war-time scar, more visible than most. He’s overcome serious injuries that were far more painful and debilitating.”

Betsy snorted. “Well, then, back to the topic I have to address. You say he’s determined to marry you, but you’re still a maiden. Any idea why? He’s had plenty of opportunity, after all.”

Abigail blushed, then lifted the cocoa cup to her lips and sipped. After a moment, she admitted, “He’s never promised I’d be a virgin on our wedding night. Rather, he said I needed something of an education.”

Betsy actually laughed. “And, er, has he been
educating
you?”

“I rather think you know the answer to that.” Abigail sighed.

“I rather think his education is limited to the things he wishes you to know. They are not, however, the things you may
need
to know.” Abigail waved her hand, enjoying the cocoa, so Betsy went on. “Do you know how babies are conceived, child?”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “By whatever happens when a lady crosses from being a maiden to a woman,” she said crossly, then flushed. It was true, she did not know
how
that happened.

“Child, I had to have this conversation with my daughter once upon a time. She was much younger than you, though, as I dared not take her into a ballroom without her being suitably knowledgeable. I’m actually shocked your mother didn’t prepare you better. Regardless, surely I can do it again.”

Abigail waited. Betsy’s lips were pursed as she shook her head in exasperation.

“Right, then. A baby may be conceived when a man plants his, for want of a better word, seed inside a woman’s womb. The way he delivers that seed is by inserting his…” Betsy paused to wave
her
hand. “He inserts the
thing
that makes him a man inside a woman’s birth canal and releases the seed into her womb. If the conditions are right, and they generally are eventually, so he’ll do it often enough if he wants a nursery, then the woman conceives and comes to be with child.”

Abigail thought about that. She distinctly remembered Meriden telling her that every part of a woman’s body had at least two functions. She chewed her lower lip, and asked quietly, “Which part is the birth canal?”

Betsy snorted. “As you’re not blushing and seem lost in thought, you’re obviously considering what I’m saying against his
education
. So the birth canal is the entrance to your body from which you bleed monthly. Did your mother at least explain
why
that happens?”

Abigail frowned. “No,” she uttered as a sudden horrifying thought occurred to her. Meriden couldn’t mean for those rules to apply
then
, could he?

“The man has the seed. You have the fertile ground. Every month after your cycle, your body starts preparing a new planting ground, so to speak. There is a point in the month where your womb is ripe for conception, and after that the fertile beds age until you bleed all that planting ground away and it starts again. If you are with child, however, you’ll stop bleeding because your body will need that fertile ground to cradle the babe.”

“So, to conceive, his seed must enter my womb at the time when my womb is most ready?”

Betsy nodded briskly. “Exactly. And it’s not as easy as it looks. Men get intense pleasure from the experience, which encourages them to repeat it often enough to cause conception. Women may or may not enjoy it. If the man is considerate, he’ll see to the woman’s pleasure, but if he’s not it can be devilishly painful. I don’t suppose you have any insight as to whether Meriden will be inclined to help you at least tolerate it?”

Abigail blushed brilliantly. She knew it was happening and couldn’t prevent it.

Betsy practically barked with laughter. “I believe you’ve just said yes, and perhaps you’ve already had a taste of that bit of heaven, hmm?” When Abigail opened her eyes wide, Betsy shook her head. “No, no, I don’t want details. But let me tell you, my girl, a nobleman’s behaviour in the bedroom with a defenceless woman is a true test of his character, and the wives of noblemen are the epitome of defenceless in our society. You can’t say no, after all, and if you try, he’s perfectly justified in proceeding against your wishes. You have no real recourse, for the law protects him as a man and his title protects him from social censure. Noblemen must, after all, have sons.”

“The only thing he seems to be set on in that vein is the idea that we’ll share a bed. After we wed. To sleep in.” Abigail hastily put down her cup before she spilt her cocoa. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“He might think that now, but mind me, child, he’ll think otherwise in time. How you work out the practicalities will be between the two of you. Richard always came to me when he wished, but many couples share a bed for years before going their own ways. Besides those days you’re miserably bleeding, you’ll be in bed for weeks while lying-in. He’ll want to sleep elsewhere then, or have you receiving the female callers in your own apartments. And then there’s the nights you won’t sleep much, while the babies have colic and the measles, when you collapse with exhaustion and sleep in the nursery.”

Abigail frowned, and said softly, “Will I?” She looked at her aunt. “I can’t remember Mother ever spending more than an hour in the nursery, let alone a night.”

“Your mother was excellent at being pregnant, but she abandoned all of you to the hands of the nurses far too soon, particularly since she was ever in search of another boy and that meant being wherever Winchester was—usually in London. You, however, will be an excellent mother, just wait and see.” Betsy shook her head. “When the time comes, my dear, you say the word and I’ll come and guide you through it, just as I’ve done for my daughter. I think you’ll find the nurses are important, so you can get a decent night’s sleep occasionally, but you won’t want to be far from your children for months on end, nor can I imagine Meriden is the sort to think of London as more than an unwelcome place in which he must do business.”

“Speaking of confinements,” Abigail asked, “how is Libby?” Abigail knew that a letter had arrived for Betsy the day before, from Betsy’s daughter.

“She has only a week or two left.” Betsy pursed her lips again. “I’m writing today. Seeing as we’re in Warwickshire already, I was contemplating going north to Northumberland instead of back to London. I understand Meriden had Winchester’s carriage repaired, though he said it ought to be sent to the scrap heap. I might as well put it to good use.”

“I don’t want you to go before you’re completely better,” Abigail said firmly.

“I’m almost there, child. Now, then, one more thing and I’m going to send you off.”

Abigail smiled. “What’s that?” she asked.

“If it comes to pass that you
want
to keep Meriden’s attention firmly fixed on you, and not drifting off to some flirty strumpet that he keeps about, I want to give you one piece of advice.”

Abigail snorted. “He’s promised me he won’t keep a mistress here, or anywhere in polite company.” She frowned. “He tried to get me to promise to be faithful in return, but I got in a temper about it and told him fidelity went both ways. As long as he doesn’t seek out other women, I won’t look about either.”

“I’m sure that put his back up.” Betsy chortled.

“It’s only fair.” Abigail frowned.

“True, though you won’t find many men agree. Married men tend to drift once their wives are with child and the newness of marriage wears thin. Some men find pregnancy unattractive. Some women are just too sick. Some couples who are in convenient, compatible marriages are only romping in the sheets so as to populate their nurseries anyway, and would rather find their pleasures elsewhere. And some men just get bored. You won’t be able to stop him from keeping a lightskirt if he so chooses, and chances are he could hide it adequately, but if you want to keep his attention firmly fixed on you, you’ll have to keep him from getting bored.”

“And how do I do that?” Abigail asked.

At this, Betsy smiled. “Most men of our class keep a section of books in their libraries, or in their private rooms. Usually they’re on a top shelf, out of reach from dusting maids and youthful girls looking for trouble. If Meriden is the man I suspect he is, he’ll have a small collection. Often there are illustrations, ideas to keep in the back of your mind.” She fixed her eye on Abigail. “Find those books. Educate yourself. Exercise your imagination and keep your head occasionally and put your education to good use. It will keep him on his toes.” She gave Abigail a self-satisfied smile. “After a few years, my Richard gave up hiding them and kept them in his bedroom, where I could look at them anytime. Useful things, books can be.”

Abigail choked. “No more, Aunt,” she said, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to know
anything else
about Uncle Richard.”

Betsy hmphed but smiled. “Get on with you, child. This house hasn’t had a female in it for years. I’ll wager those books are in his library, just out of reach of the parlour maids. If what Margaret Danvers said last night is correct, I’ll wager Meriden spends a good portion of today in the estate office, with his secretary and any number of tenants and servitors who want to finish up the last bits of business they have with him before winter. And I,” she finished, “have to spend the morning with Mrs Carlton in the drawing room, preparing the boards for your wedding breakfast. Enjoy your freedom today. Tomorrow’s a busy day for you.”

Feeling a bit bewildered, Abigail did as Betsy had directed. She went and visited with unhappy Jenna. Abigail had already realised that Jenna would be unable to do the work of a lady’s maid—or of any maid—for months while she recovered. And, while Jenna had agreed to leave London in Abigail’s service, the maid had realised the countryside was going to be lonely for her. Jenna’s siblings and lifelong friends were in London—she was lonely in a way she hadn’t foreseen.

Abigail knew Annie well enough by now to be comfortable sending Jenna back to London, but it seemed heartless to see the girl off before she’d healed. Debating the problem, she slipped onto the main floor and looked into the butler’s pantry, finding Grady and the footmen industriously polishing silver for the wedding breakfast. She asked after Meriden, but he’d already left with the land agent on business. Grady expected him back at lunchtime.