now? We're married. The only lady whose approval I seek is here before me."
"Your tongue is as seductive as the rest of you," she answered stubbornly, and looked away from him.
He gripped her arms. "Don't talk nonsense! What is all this about? If I have committed some crime, name it and allow me to defend myself!"
"Your crime, sir, is that you are a man like all the rest." Micheline's eyes flashed with pain and rage in the darkening room. "No wonder you are so happy these days! You have everything you needed and wanted. Your title and inheritance are safely intact, there's an adoring woman in your bed at night, and you've even managed to sire an offspring during the first weeks of your marriage! If I give birth to a son, all your problems will be solved and you won't have to continue this farce any longer!"
"What the devil are you raving about?" Andrew's voice was a mixture of outrage and bafflement.
"You needn't pretend any longer. Your seed's been planted, hasn't it? I can't undo the marriage. Why not admit the truth?"
"What truth?"
"That nothing's changed. That you have no more intention of devoting yourself to me than you do to Iris Dangerfield! After all, it would be a crime to deprive womankind of your virtuosic gifts when you can satisfy a wife and still manage to spread your talents around!"
The scar that cut down into his upper lip whitened. "I think you've gone quite mad, my lady."
"On the contrary! I've seen the light! I'll own that it's not very pretty, but it's better than languishing in the darkness of ignorant contentment!"
Sandhurst's frustration was such that he felt an urge to shake some rational explanation from her, but his love for Micheline ran too deep. Again and again it rose up to push aside his rage, arguing for understanding.
"Micheline, won't you tell me what's brought this on? If I knew—"
"If you knew, you would weave some tale to pull over my eyes!" In the shadows, through her tears, there were moments when it seemed that Bernard stood there before her instead of Andrew–Bernard who had died before she learned the truth. Remembering him made it easier to resist the urge to forgive and forget. "You know what you've done, my lord. There's no point in pretending innocence; I'm aware of the facts."
"What facts?" Sandhurst felt as if he were in the midst of a bizarre nightmare. Even this conversation reminded him of some awful garden maze. Each promising turn became a dead end.
Micheline presented her back and walked to the window. "I don't wish to discuss this further. Please go."
His entire body taut, Andrew raked a hand through his hair. Closing his eyes, he swallowed further words of appeal. "This is madness... and the time will come, my lady, when you will beg my pardon for each word you've spoken here tonight."
A moment later the door slammed, and Micheline was alone in the darkened bedchamber. A tremor shook her body, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing.
Part V
Western wind, when will thou blow.
The small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
Anonymous
Chapter 35
June 10-11, 1533
Larks, finches, robins, and cuckoos began to sing before dawn, but Micheline could not be consoled as she lay alone in the bed that had been a cozy haven during the first weeks of her marriage to Andrew. It seemed that she hadn't slept all night. Where was he? His parting words, "This is madness," echoed in her mind, and she wondered if they'd been truer than he guessed. Micheline's world, which had been so happy just a day ago, was now turned upside down, and she felt as if she were falling down a dark, bottomless tunnel.
"Lady Sandhurst?" Betsy's voice came from the other side of the door, sounding unusually apprehensive. "Are you awake?"
Micheline almost smiled at the housekeeper's intuition. On a normal morning Betsy wouldn't have dreamed of asking such a question, for it couldn't have been more than six o'clock, and the sun had scarcely begun to rise over the rounded Cotswold hills.
"Come in, Betsy."
The older woman entered slowly. She tried not to react to the sight of her mistress's pale face and the shadows under her beautiful eyes. "My lady, whatever it is that's bothering you must be resolved—for the sake of your baby."
Tears stung Micheline's eyes. "I don't know if that's even possible, Betsy."
Sighing, the housekeeper held out a folded sheet