He was silenced by the arching of her brows and her expression of total skepticism. “He wants a dozen,” Lucinda fairly snapped, “he told me so himself.”
“But is that so—?”
“I am not a brood mare.
That’s all he wants, you know. Please, Papa, must I? I like my life just like it is. I don’t want to marry until such time as I find a man I can love, just like Mama loves you. I want a marriage like yours. When I see you and Mama looking at one another, your eyes all filled with love, I simply cannot imagine Lucius Whittlesby looking at me that way, nor I, him.”
Papa’s shoulders slumped even further. His expression of defeat made her instantly regretful yet again. She leaped up and went around the desk behind him and put her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, Papa, I love you both so dearly. I’ll try to do what you want, but it’s so hard!”
Papa reached and patted her hand fondly. “You do understand I want only the best for you. Out of all my daughters, you’ve been the one I’ve most depended upon, what with your mother ill so much of the time.”
“Bess helped.”
“I am grateful to both of you.” Papa laughed ironically. “Of course Bess was good at conducting teas and social events, whereas you were in the background, doing all the drudge work. Ah, Lucinda, of all my charming daughters, you are the tenacious one, the resilient one—the one I could not do without.”
“Thank you for that, Papa.” Indeed, she had worked hard, and had given up many social events in order to keep the household running smoothly. It was nice to be appreciated, although appreciation was not what she needed now.
With nothing resolved, Lucinda finally left the study. She found it hard to hold her shoulders back as she climbed the stairs.
Mrs. Lucius Whittlesby
, she recited to herself.
Lucinda Whittlesby
. It didn’t sound right.
Could she get used to it? She cringed at the thought of becoming a mother to six children she didn’t even know, plus, judging from that lecherous gleam in Whittlesby’s eye, only God knew how many more. Impossible! But on the other hand, did she not love her parents? Did she not want to please them more than anything else in the world? Her mind reeled with indecision. Whatever choice she made would affect the whole rest of her life.
Chapter
3
“It’s like old times, isn’t it?” said Catherine. Dressed in their voluminous white nightgowns, the three oldest sisters had gathered in Lucinda’s bed chamber, Catherine and Bess on the bed, Lucinda cross-legged on the floor. Light-heartedly Catherine went on, “Tonight I’m fifteen again and not an old married lady with two children.”
“It’s wonderful to be together again,” Lucinda replied, feeling a warm glow. “It’s a shame we’re not all here.” Amelia and her new husband had already left. Diana, Emily and Henrietta had already gone to bed.
“But the three oldest are here,” chimed Catherine. “Remember how we used to talk and giggle ‘til the wee small hours?”
“And were always afraid Mama and Papa would hear us,” said Bess.
“They probably did,” Lucinda said thoughtfully, “but they let us stay up anyway.” She grinned. “Do you remember how we used to get those fits of giggling?”
“Do you remember why?” asked Catherine with an impish smile.
Bess said, “We talked a lot about what it would be like to be married, and what it would be like to...you know.”
“To go to bed with a man,” said Lucinda.
Catherine blushed. “Oh, sister, you are just as blunt as ever, but you’re right.”
“So how is it?” Lucinda inquired, feeling not the least embarrassed asking. “Here I am, an old maid of twenty-six, and I still don’t know. Such ignorance! It’s disgusting.”
“You do too know,” cried both her sisters.
“Well, some, but not everything.”
“You’re better off,” Bess fervently proclaimed.
“That’s not true,” protested Catherine. “Marriage can be wonderful. Marriage can be...just the most marvelous, the most...” she paused and blushed deeper.
“Marvelous for you, perhaps, but not me,” persisted Bess. “If you’re meaning the physical part, I find the whole process most distasteful. But then, it’s something a woman must submit to, isn’t it? At least the whole affair is performed at night, in the dark, and is swiftly concluded.”
Catherine sat back amazed. “But doesn’t Nicolas...? I mean, Robert is so anxious to please me. He takes hours sometimes, and it’s not just at night, it’s sometimes in the morning, or at noon with the sunlight strea
ming through the windows.”
“Heavens, no,” Bess said grimly, “for me it’s always in the dead of night, which, as far as I’m concerned is the only proper way. I undress in the dark every night and slip into my nightgown. Nicolas comes in and...well, has his way with me, as quickly as possible, then he rolls over and goes to sleep. That’s it. Then it’s done.” Bess flopped her hands out as if she had just described how to boil an egg.
Catherine looked totally bewildered. “But always at night? If it’s night, and the lamps are out, how can he watch you undress? Robert says it gives him great pleasure to see me...you know.”
“My husband has never seen me au natural and he never shall,” Bess proclaimed, firmly shaking her head. “I do all my dressing and undressing in the closet. As for the rest, actually, I’ve quite adjusted to it. I simply lie there and remind myself that it’s something men like to do. Sometimes, while he’s...you know, I plan my tasks for the next day, all the time reassuring myself the entire procedure is for the greater good, and that’s true, is it not?”
“If the greater good results in a baby, then of course you’re right,” mused Lucinda.
Bess gave a rueful nod. “Although one would wish God could have invented a more civilized manner in which to procreate the race.”
Catherine, amazement still showing on her face, started to protest, but Bess ignored her. “However, since He did not, I am resigned to my fate and determined to make the best of it. You’ll not hear me complain.”
“But have you never felt...?” Although blushing deeply, Catherine persisted, “I mean, have you no idea how absolutely thrilling and exciting and wonderful the marriage bed can be?”
“Never.” Bess crossed her arms across her chest and firmly bobbed her chin. “And that’s fine with me. I do my duty, and that’s it. If I had my choice I would live my entire life without all that foolishness.”
Later, after Bess had left, Catherine expressed her bewilderment. “I can’t believe it. Did you hear her call it a procedure? That’s terrible. I cannot imagine going through life without ever knowing what it’s like to really, truly love a man, and to have...well, the physical side of marriage can be a wondrous thing.” Her mouth curved into a secret little smile. “To know passion
—it’s such pure ecstasy, impossible to describe. Then afterward, when the passion has ebbed, sometimes Robert and I just melt together, as close as two people could possibly be, and I think there’s no place in the world I would rather be than sheltered in Robert’s arms.” She lowered her eyes and sheepishly whispered, “I sound wanton.”
“No, indeed, you do not,” Lucinda assured her. Inside she felt a pang of longing. “Just looking at you convinces me how gloriously happy you are. Do you remember how shy you used to be? Quiet, too, and always a bit unsure of yourself. You’ve changed. Now there’s a radiance about you. You positively glow.”
“Robert’s love has changed me. Don’t laugh, but I’m so happy sometimes I think I shall burst with joy. I’m such a different person now.”
“So is Bess,” Lucinda said sadly, “but I fear in the other direction. Remember how she used to smile all the time?”
Catherine nodded. “Now she’s such a sour-face. I do not believe she’s found happiness with Nicolas, and that’s a tragedy. No woman should go her whole life without knowing—” Catherine bit her lip, looking guilty.
“Don’t feel bad,” said Lucinda. “What you meant was no woman should be compelled to marry a man she doesn’t love. The problem is, in our world that’s not very practical, is it?”
“I fear not.” Catherine remained silent a moment, looking thoughtful. “Sister, this Lucius Whittlesby...I take it Mama and Papa want a match?” Lucinda nodded. “But you don’t love him?”
Lucinda wrinkled up her nose distastefully. “Have you seen him? Worse, have you listened to him? He’s so utterly boring I don’t know how I can stand a lifetime of listening to him talk about himself and his special relationship with God.”
“Tell me, what do you really want for a lifetime?”
Catherine’s question caused Lucinda to pause and reflect. “I’m happy as I am,” she finally stated. “People can judge my life any way they like, but in most ways, I find it most satisfactory. I love to read. I love to visit friends and have them visit me. I love to sketch, and ride in the woods with Papa, and you know how I feel about bird watching.”
Catherine smiled. “You can identify every bird in England.”
“Not quite, but that alone, along with my painting could keep me busy for a lifetime.”
“Not quite,” Catherine said with a sad shake of her head. “I mean, watching birds and painting them is fine, for a hobby, but do you really want to grow old and wrinkled and die an old ape leader? Come here.” Catherine slid from the bed and dragged Lucinda to the full length mirror. “You’re so pretty, Lucinda. Look at that perfectly splendid figure. You very well know your sisters have always envied how tall and slender you are.”
“Nonsense.”
“But it’s true. You’re the most beautiful one of us all, you know that.” Catherine tugged at a lock of her sister’s hair. “Look at how gorgeous.”
“Plain brown.”
No, it’s not, it’s a gloriously shining chestnut. I love the way you wear it piled high. And who wouldn’t die for that darling, straight little nose and those eyes—so large and deep-set, so—”
“Plain brown.” Lucinda gave her sister a wry smile. “If I’m so beautiful where is my perfect husband?”
“You simply haven’t found him yet.” With heartfelt honesty, Catherine continued, “Lucinda Linley, you’re a fool to settle for the likes of Lucius Whittlesby.”
Lucinda was taken aback. Her shy little sister had never spoken up so boldly before. “Mama and Papa will be crushed if I don’t. After all”–-she could not keep the bitterness from her voice-–“Whittlesby will accept me at a bargain price.”
“Who cares? Follow your heart, not what you feel obligated to do. If you don’t, you’ll end up like Bess, undressing in the closet every night.”
The very thought set them laughing. But soon Lucinda sobered again. “I confess, I’ve been restless lately. Sometimes I feel as if my life is not my own, as if I were wrapped in chains that the circumstances of my life keep tightening. I shall hate marrying Lucius Whittlesby, but what choice do I have? Mama and Papa have been so good to us. How could I not abide by their wishes?”
“Just don’t marry him,” said Catherine. Noticing Lucinda’s dubious expression, she continued, “Oh, I know it’s what our parents want, but do you really want to end up with that old goat? Where is that iron resolve you used to have? Ask yourself, how could you endure going to bed with him?”
“Not easily,” Lucinda said ruefully.
“Why don’t you talk to them again? Make sure they realize how unhappy you would be. Perhaps, if you could offer some alternative...?”
It dawned on Lucinda that indeed there was an alternative. “I could insist upon going to Southfield to be a companion to Aunt Pernelia. I mean, really insist and not take no for an answer.”
Catherine’s eyes lit. “There’s the perfect answer to your problem. Papa won’t like it, but you must stick to your convictions and do it anyway.”
“He said no, but...”
Suddenly a new resolve filled Lucinda’s heart. “I keep seeing the contrast between you and Bess. She’s miserable, and not even pretty anymore, and all because she married a man she didn’t love. Whereas you—”
“Whereas I have blossomed like a rose,” Catherine finished for her, touching her hand lightly to her heart. “Come to your senses. Send Lucius Whittlesby packing. Wait for your true love.”
“What if I never find him?”
“You will.”
But what if I don’t?
Lucinda thought. There was a good chance she wouldn’t. She had just realized one thing for certain, though. “What have I been thinking of?” she asked, surprised at herself. “How could I have considered, even for a moment, marrying Whittlesby? You’re right, Catherine. I shall send him packing. Also, I shall ask Papa to please send me off to Aunt Pernelia’s.” She added playfully, “And of course I shall wait for that true love you say will come along.”
Catherine smiled. “How will you know him? What will he be like?”
“Like Papa, of course. He will be a gentle, quiet man, thoughtful and modest. He will enjoy our taking long walks through the woods together, communing with nature. He will enjoy reading, and he will most definitely find great joy in bird watching. I could not abide a man who does not hold a tender feeling in his heart for all birds.”
Catherine cast an appreciative eye towards the album by Lucinda’s bedside that contained the pictures of birds Lucinda had painted with her watercolors. “He should greatly admire your bird paintings, as we all do.”
“That, too.”
“I hope you find him.”
“Oh, I shall,” Lucinda replied affirmatively. She felt much better. Catherine’s optimism had filled her with new hope. “Out there, somewhere, there must be such a man.”