With This Ring (33 page)

And that was it. He did not offer to
rub her back again. In the morning he assured her that he could
manage his own personal business now. “Think how much time you will
save, if you do not have to see to my needs, Lydia,” he told her as
she tied on her apron. “You might even have time to sit down,
yourself.”

“
I haven’t complained,” she said
quietly. She could almost feel her old uncertainties creeping back
into her mind like that tenth plague sidling around Egyptian
doorposts.

“
That’s the wonder of it,” he
replied. “I cannot imagine another woman being as kind as you have
been.”

His statement, delivered in his
usual stringent way, passed judgment on her as sure as if he had
banged down a gavel. She looked at him. You think I have done all
this because I am a creature of duty, she thought, trying not to
frown at first because it wasn’t polite, and then not caring much
what he thought. She turned to leave, the adventure gone now from
the long day of work and ultimate exhaustion that stretched before
her. Her inclination was to say nothing; no one had wanted her
opinions before. I love you and I care what happens to you, you
wretched man, she thought.

She paused in the door, looking back
at him, and the change in his expression. “Mr. Reed, if you think
that no woman would be this kind, then obviously you were
woolgathering when the priest read our marriage vows! Good
day.”

I am married to an idiot, she
thought. While she did not precisely slam the door, she did close
it firmly enough to set a vase in the hall shivering. She hurried
to the barbershop, winking back tears, and thinking up all kinds of
horrendous fates for the major, should the Lord request her
suggestions at some later date closer to Judgment Day. He has no
idea how it terrifies me to chatter with strangers, and thrust
myself into what is a man’s world, and all to raise money to pay
his doctor bill, feed and house him, and return him to a better
life somewhere in godforsaken Northumberland. Useless, useless
husband!

Her anger cooled as the morning
passed, especially when she gave a shorter haircut than the vicar
had really wanted, and nicked the mayor several times during a
shave. She looked at the clock at mid-morning, uncertain whether to
return to their room, even though he had told her he did not need
her help. No, she told herself as she snapped the barber’s towel
loud enough to make the sexton leap from his chair as though she
had shot him. Sam says he does not need my help, and I won’t bore
him with my company. Still, she reminded herself as she
over-lathered the sexton, I know that urinal was not placed
anywhere near the bed. He will hurt himself if he tries to get up.
I should be there.

She wavered through two more
haircuts, arguing with herself, even as she smiled at her customers
and gushed forth with some nonsense about life in London versus
life in small towns that would have astounded even Kitty. Drat the
man. No wonder Sir Percy Whoever had to invent a wife for him in
Spain. No real woman in her right mind would come close to him.
Except me, she concluded mournfully. I am an idiot, too.

In her frame of mind, lunch was out
of the question. She put up the “BACK IN TWENTY MINUTES” sign, sat
herself down in the chair, and indulged in a hearty bout of tears
and self-pity of the variety that was almost, but not quite,
comforting. She was drying her eyes on her apron and looking about
for a handkerchief when someone rapped on the glass.

“
My next money-making scheme in this
village will be lessons in literacy,” she grumbled as she went to
the door. “Or else this one is so shaggy that his hair is covering
his eyes and he cannot read my sign.”

Her husband stood outside the door,
bracing himself on the doorsill, pale as parchment but with a look
of premeditated contrition in his eyes. She gasped and opened the
door, taking him by the arm and leading him to the chair, too
worried to say anything.

He sank into it with relief, and
closed his eyes. “My word, Lydia, I cannot believe that only months
ago I pushed and pulled cannons over the Pyrenees,” he said at
last, when he caught his breath. “I doubt I could nudge a canister
of case shot with my foot today. I started out with your lunch, but
the sandwich was so heavy I left it with a beggar on the church
steps. Oh, Lydia, you are married to a fool.”

“
I know,” she said softly. “So are
you.”

He touched her face, and she felt a
mountain roll off her back. “Then, perhaps it is a good thing we
discovered each other at St. Barnabas, that least romantic venue in
London, with its unspeakable drains, and rats enough to keep as
pets and serve for dinner, too,” he told her as he took her by the
hand. “Lydia, I am sorry. You’ve been working harder on my behalf
than any gentlewoman I ever knew.” He blushed and looked down at
the floor. “I’ve given you precious little in return.”

“
Oh, opportunity,” she said with a
smile. “You’ve given me such room to maneuver!” She took him by the
hand. “If I were Kitty, I would probably pout and scold and never
ever forgive you until you had done something marvelous to make me
forget how irritated I was.”

“
I have every
intention—eventually—of causing you all manner of astonishment,” he
replied with a smile of his own that made her blush and look away.
“Lydia, you tell me what Kitty would do. What about you?” He ran
his thumb over her wedding ring. “I mean, other than slam the door
this morning.”

“
I didn’t! … Well, perhaps it was
just a little slam.”

“
Lydia, how on earth can you slam a
door just a little bit?” he asked patiently, then grinned at her.
“My word, but wives are interesting! Who would have thought
it?”

She tried not to smile back, then
thought a moment. “Sit still. You look like a stray dog whom no one
will feed.” She put a cloth around his neck and picked up a comb.
“I don’t know how to answer your question, because I was never
allowed to be angry.”

She could tell from his thoughtful
reflection in the mirror that such a consideration had never
occurred to him. “Kitty could have her megrims, and Mama was
forever berating Papa with his numerous shortcomings, but I was
supposed to be usefully quiet,” she said. She combed his hair. “Do
you want your part lower?”

“
No, it’s fine there. But …
what are you saying, my dear?”

She let go of his hair and stood in
front of him so she could look him in the eyes. “You know what
happened when I spoke out.”

His glance did not waver. He reached
up and touched her cheek, where the bruise was nearly gone. He took
a deep breath. “Let us get two things straight.” He chuckled and
pulled her close, his hands on her face. “By the Almighty this is
odd, but it’s the very same two items I told my men in the battery
when they came to me as recruits.”

“
I think there are those who would
argue that marriage and war have their similarities, Sam,” she
said, perfectly in charity with him again. Lord, but I am easy to
cajole, she thought. How dreadful if he ever finds out. I will have
nothing to bargain with. Perhaps I will not need to bargain with
this man.

“
Oh, so I am Sam again? I think I
may come to cringe at ‘Mr. Reed’ from you, delivered in that crisp,
inimitable style reminiscent of … could it be your
mama?”

She had the grace to laugh. “It
could be. I must have learned something in all those years,
Mr.—Sam.” She pulled herself gracefully from his grasp and began to
snip. “Do divulge your treatise delivered to soldiers and now
wives.”

“
Well, we cannot duplicate the
scene, and thank God for that. You certainly smell better than they
did, and you’re so much easier on the eyes,” he said, relaxing in
the chair as much as his injury would allow. “I would sit them down
and tell them that I would never beat them, and that there was
nothing we could not discuss.”

Startled, taken aback, and deeply
touched, she continued cutting. “I do believe you mean that,” she
said at last, when even the dust motes seemed to hum in the silence
of the shop.

“
I never meant anything
more.”

It was said quietly, with all the
resolve of a strong man. I am flattered, she thought. She touched
his good shoulder lightly and continued her work. “I have never
doubted the former item,” she said.

“
Thank you, madam,” he replied. “I
never could understand those commanders who sought to instill
loyalty—love, if you will—by beating the men their very lives
depended on.” He swiveled slightly to look at her, paying for it
with a sharp intake of breath that made her hold her own. “I expect
it is the same with wives. I believe my life has already been in
your hands, and you have been most kind, for no particular good
reason.”

Other than that I do believe I love
you, she thought, amused at him. “Yes, we did make a rather odd
bargain to begin this marriage, didn’t we?” she asked as she cut
and trimmed. “You are to have an accomplice to smooth things with
your aunt and your inheritance, and I am to have … what? A
safe place to live? I want more.”

How quiet it was in the room. She
looked at him in the reflection of the mirror, and he gratified her
by returning the look, and with the same smile that was on her
face, she was certain. I believe we have a right good
understanding, sir, she thought, her eyes brimful of
amusement.

He turned his head to look at her
again. “Well, I did give you Maria, didn’t I?” he said, his grin
broader and broader.

“
I can’t even imagine what other
surprises await,” she replied, perfectly in charity with her
quixotic husband. She looked closer, watching the blush rise in his
face. “Oh, no! There is more?”

He nodded.

“
Don’t tell me, then,” she said.
“Let us muddle along until you feel much, much better, and I will
not be accused of doing injury to a poor war hero when I find out
what else my future holds. Hold still, now; I am at the dread mole.
There. But, then, I am also unlikely to cause you any physical
harm.” She laughed and touched his face, enjoying the way his eyes
closed when she did it. “I think cold, implacable irritation and
silence are far more effective. You forget that I have trained with
masters, Sam.”

Another long silence. “I hope you
are quizzing me,” he said at last.

“
Of course I am,” she answered, then
took a deep breath. “But all this is tease and banter. I do have
something of a personal nature to unload from my shoulders, if you
care to listen.”

“
I care to.”

“
When you are feeling excellent
again, I expect more than a back rub from you, Samuel Reed,” she
began, felt brave, and continued. “Since we have acquired Maria,
and neither of us, I expect, would ever abandon her now, and since
I have seen all there is to see of you and not run screaming into
the night, and since I confess to much pleasure in both your back
and your front rub, I have no intention of annulling what we have
recorded in the parish. What a waste of a good special license,
ink, and paper.” To relieve the huge silence in the room, she
hummed as she undid the towel and brushed his neck. “You owe me,
Sam,” she said as he got out of the chair. “A lot.”

“
More than you know,” he replied.
“Put your arms around my waist and don’t squeeze too
hard.”

She did as he said, and enjoyed a
kiss so satisfactory that she could only stamp her foot in
irritation when someone knocked on the door, then rattled the knob,
which her husband had so wisely locked. She started toward the
door, and he pulled her close against him again. “When I am feeling
in the trim, you’ll be the first to know it,” he said, his lips
practically against hers as he spoke.

Well, she thought, as he released
her and allowed her a moment to fluff up the curls he had managed
to twine rather too tight in his hand during that kiss. Well, I am
speechless, and having waited this long, I am surely good for a few
more weeks, if that is what the major requires, she told
herself.

There was already a line outside the
door. Sam nodded to her and turned to go. “Do have a care, my
dear,” she called after him. “Sit down on the church steps if you
tire.”

“
You are so solicitous,” he
said.

She laughed. “Not especially, Sam.
If you sit on the church steps in your present wretched condition,
perhaps some kind soul will think to toss a coin or two your way.
Why should I be the sole wage earner?”

So it went for the remainder of her
tenure in the barbershop. Just when she thought—and the Innises
agreed with her—that she must have shaved everyone in Merry Glade,
others turned up from surrounding towns and villages as the story
of the gallant, wounded artilleryman and his even more gallant wife
spread out like ripples on the smooth lake of a rural society. No
one needed to be reassured that she could cut hair, too. Even the
most cautious of men sat in her chair, as though they had known her
a lifetime.

“
I do believe that my fame has
spread throughout at least three districts. I am amazed what
notoriety does to ordinary people,” she told Sam one night as she
sat, nearly asleep, her aching feet in his lap for their nightly
massage.