With This Ring (32 page)

She turned to the men in the shop,
took Mr. Wilburn by the arm, and led him to the chair. “Sir, you
don’t have much hair, you know.”

He patted his head in mock surprise.
“Good Lord, I believe she is right!” The men laughed, looking at
the floor in their shyness. “Then, trim that fringe, Mrs. Reed. And
I am ready for a shave.” He nodded as she settled the cloth around
his neck, then winked at her. “Better work fast, Mrs. Reed, so you
can see what handsome dogs we are here in Merry Glade. You’ll wish
you had never leg-shackled yourself to a grumpy major, when you see
how lovely
we
are! Right, lads?”

She worked steadily all morning as
the rain drummed down and the barber’s chair began its regular
creaking as one man left the seat and another sat down. She knew
her own shyness in the presence of so many men would keep her from
much small talk, but these friends and neighbors supplied their own
text. They were rough men, yeomen and crofters mostly, but they
kept their language seemly, looking at her for approval when
someone made a witty remark. It was easy to smile her approbation,
and to realize that no matter where she went in the world, that
these simple souls had taught her a valuable lesson.

The only emergency came as noon
approached. Out of breath and wet, Suzie ran into the shop. “Mrs.
Reed! You have to come quick! It’s the major! Mama wants you
now!”

Her heart dropped to her shoes and
did not rebound. He was fine when I left, she thought in sudden
alarm. She set down the shaving mug and turned to the man she had
just lathered.

“
You go right on, Mrs. Reed. I’ll
keep. Hurry now,” the man urged, his expression as concerned as
hers.

She did hurry, running through the
rain, outdistancing Suzie. She pulled up her dress and apron and
gave the whole village ample opportunity to observe her legs, if
anyone had felt inclined to gawk.

She took the stairs two at a time,
her mind a perfect jumble, and burst into the room. Sam Reed lay on
his side, his lips set in a tight line. Mrs. Innis stood next to
him, the urinal in her hand, her lips equally compressed, every
line of her body expressing disapproval.

“
Mrs. Reed, your man is devilishly
stubborn,” she announced, her words clipped. “He refuses my help.”
She glared at him. “I am certain he is about to pop, but he won’t
let me touch the covers, let alone him.”

Lydia sank into the chair by the
door, out of breath. “I thought … a terrible emergency …
Sam, you are certifiable! I would like to brain you over the head
with that thing!”

Mrs. Innis shook her head, but she
was smiling now. She handed the urinal to Lydia. “He says he’s your
man, and he won’t have some strange woman fumbling with his
privates.” She was laughing as she left the room.

“
For heaven’s sake, Sam,” Lydia
scolded as she pulled back the blankets and helped him. “Not a
minute too soon! You are a trial.”

He sighed with relief and was silent
for a long moment, concentrating on the matter at hand. “Lydia,
they call them privates for a reason,” he said finally.

She started to laugh, and he had to
remind her to hold still, or she would be changing sheets, too.
“One more day and I’ll be on my feet,” he promised her. “I really
don’t enjoy doing this lying down. Or having to sit up to turn
over. Or the smell of wintergreen.”

“
I rather like it, Sam,” she said as
she removed the urinal and carried it to the commode. “Makes you
sweet. I was hoping you’d keep dabbing it on here and there when
you feel better.”

He frowned, as if trying to decide
whether she was quizzing him. He looked at her and laughed. “I
should change the subject, shouldn’t I, before you thrash me for
being an idiot. Lydia, I am shy about some things. Maybe more than
I should be.”

“
You amaze me, Sam. Here you’ve
fought the length and breadth of Spain and Portugal, crossed the
Pyrenees with your guns, fought in France, and endured years of
privation and toil, seen disease and death in its most dreadful
forms, and you’re squeamish about kind Mrs. Innis, who has
certainly seen … well, if not yours, then Mr. Innis’s. I doubt
there is much variety.” She thought of her waiting customers,
covered him again, and sat down on the bed. “Just get better, Sam.
I’ll come back in an hour or two, so you needn’t run the risk of
exposing yourself to Mrs. Innis.”

He kissed her hand. “Lydia, am I an
idiot?”

She nodded. “Completely certifiable.
And you’re getting grouchy.” She kissed his cheek. “I have someone
waiting for me with his face lathered. He’s not as handsome as you,
but he’s paying me for my time and talents, while you are
not.”

He nodded. “Mrs. Innis told me about
the barbershop. You’ve been telling me about that, too, haven’t
you? I am sorry that it did not register.”

“
Apology accepted. I think you have
had more on your mind than Lydia Reed and her enterprises, even if
they are created to keep us from the poorhouse.”

“
I know I’m foggy, but didn’t I tell
you to look in the trunk?”

She started to rise, but he would
not let go of her hand. She squeezed it. “I did, and I thank you so
much! Your razor is far and away the best one I have. How clever of
you to remember that much, even though I know it was a
strain.”

“
But ….”

She kissed him again, shaking her
head at the bewildered look on his face. “I’ll see you in a few
hours, Sam. Do try to behave yourself.”

With only brief interruptions to
tend to Sam’s needs, she worked steadily through luncheon and
beyond the afternoon. The rain never let up any more than the
customers did, to her continued amazement. Before she asked the
last man to pull in the barber pole, the men she had not had time
for came in one by one to tell her that they would return
tomorrow.

When the last one left the shop, she
pulled down the shades and sat in the barber’s chair, her back on
fire and her arms throbbing from holding them up all day, cutting
hair and shaving faces. I don’t dare take off my shoes, she thought
as she raised her skirts to look at her ankles. I’d never get them
back on. I wonder if anyone would miss me, if I just stayed all
night in this wonderful chair?

When she found the energy to rise,
she quickly cleaned up the shop, swept the room, stopping to lean
on the broom when her feet refused to hold her. She was stealing
herself to go outside and pump some water for tomorrow, but the
constable came by and did it for her. When he finished, he nodded
to her and straightened his uniform jacket. “This is an official
visit, Mrs. Reed.”

“
Oh, dear! Are you going to arrest
me for causing men to loiter about Merry Glade all day?” she asked,
unable to resist.

“
None of that, Mrs. Reed!” he said,
shocked. He must have noticed the twinkle in her eyes then. “You’re
quizzing me!” He threw back his shoulders. “I am here to escort you
and your money to the Mill and Grange. I’ll even carry it, if the
sack’s too heavy.”

It was, and she let him gladly,
taking his arm and limping in triumph to the tavern. He bowed
elaborately to her, even though the men in the public room pointed
at him and made rude noises. “I am the law,” he reminded them with
all his constabulary dignity, and said good night.

She sat with the Innises and Maria,
carefully counting out the money she owed Mrs. Innis and Suzie for
the sacrifice for their hair, and then paid for their lodging up to
the present. The sack was almost empty now, but her heart was at
ease. “I will have the rest soon enough to cover our meals and
Maria’s tending,” she assured them. Listen to me, she thought as
she sat with Maria asleep against her bosom. I shall have to thank
my husband for his good advice. There was the surgeon to consider,
too, and the fare on the mail coach to Northumberland, but she did
not doubt that she could earn it.

The stairs were almost more than she
could manage, but she took them slowly, her hand heavy on the
railing. I am decrepit, she thought. Lord, remind me that when we
are on Sam’s estate and I have servants, that I remember how hard
they work for me, and treat them better than ever my parents
would.

Sam was sleeping. Automatically she
went to him first, feeling his forehead, and touching his shoulder
lightly. He was blessedly cool. She was too tired to do anything
but stand there and appreciate the fact. Move, Lydia, she told
herself finally. You were reluctant this morning, and now you are
simply tired; tired hurts, but it is better.

With a groan that surprised her, she
unbuttoned her dress and stepped out of it. She wanted to stick her
feet in the washbasin, but that would have meant bending over to
place it on the floor, so she washed her face instead. The
nightgown was where she had left it, so she put it on, groaning
again.

Sam was spread out in his usual
fashion. She thought about claiming the window seat instead, but it
was too far to walk. She lay down and pushed him gently, then
resigned herself to the little space it created.

“
Tired, Lydia?” he asked her. He
moved over slightly to accommodate her, then put his good arm
around her, stopping when she flinched. “Everything
aches?”

“
Everything,” she assured him. “I
have never been so tired. Sam, it was wonderful. We still owe a
lot, but I know I can raise it.”

He was silent a long time. As tired
as she was, when he spoke again, she noticed something different in
his voice, something almost joyful, she thought, but that was
silly. She was just tired, and it had been a long day. “You sound
quite certain,” he said.

“
I am.” Wearily she turned onto her
stomach. “Sam, if it’s not asking too much, will you rub my back
before it breaks into two or three pieces?”

She thought she would scream when he
began to knead that spot between her shoulder blades which had been
troubling her since before noon, but the pain quickly yielded to
immense relief. “You are good at that,” she murmured.

“
I can make it better.”

She was too tired to object when he
reached under her nightgown and continued to rub her bare skin.
“Nice,” she whispered, wanting to carry on some polite conversation
since he was being so kind, but her brain seemed disconnected from
the rest of her. When he reached under her to massage her breasts,
she thought she ought to make some remark or other. They don’t
ache, she wanted to tell him, except that they did, in an odd sort
of way that was making other parts of her ache. I really ought to
do something about this, she thought, and then it was too much
trouble to think what. She slept; she probably even
snored.

S
he cut
hair the next day and the next, with a certain single-minded goal:
I can rest my feet at night. Able to sit up in bed now, Sam very
kindly massaged her bare feet at night after Maria was asleep, then
entertained her with stories of the Peninsula while she soaked them
up to the ankle in Epsom salts and warm water, a remedy much
favored by Mr. Wilburn.

The second day had been as busy as
the first. The rain had not abated appreciably, but she woke this
morning with the fear of failure gone, replaced by the sure
knowledge that she would be fully occupied. She felt disinclined to
stir from the warmth of her husband’s arms, wanting another back
rub, but too shy to ask for it in broad daylight.

He did not wake up when she left the
bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress a moment, admiring him as
he slept, and wondering why it was that some men were blessed with
long eyelashes. She nearly kissed him when she left the room, but
that same shyness prevented her. Lord, I am a goose, she thought.
When I went to sleep last night, he was making me extremely
comfortable, and here I am shy about a kiss. I wish he would tell
me how he feels.

The day settled into the routine
that would be hers until Sunday, and then again on Monday. Lydia
even ventured into a little small talk, which embarrassed the men
of Merry Glade as much as it pleased them. She clipped and shaved
efficiently and quickly, wasting no one’s time, pacing herself to
prevent yesterday’s exhaustion. She took time out for Sam’s
personal needs, played with Maria, and spent the rest of the day at
the barbershop.

She liked the evenings less as the
week passed. She was quite ready for her husband to kiss her again,
and suggest another back rub, but he did not. He was alert now, and
enthusiastic about her small successes, even as she wondered at his
surprising lack of interest in her. The other night’s brief
pleasure might not even have happened. She was tired; she could
have dreamed it.

“
You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
she asked on the third night as she sat cross-legged on the bed,
counting coins and determined to regain the ground she had so
mysteriously lost.

“
Why wouldn’t I?” he asked in turn
as he fished under her leg for a coin that had escaped. “If
farming, cattle, and sheep get slow in Northumberland, I can send
you out into the working world to earn our keep. Lyddy, add this
shilling to that pile by your ankle, and I believe you will have
covered our board and Suzie’s kind care of Maria. Well-done,
wife.”