probably knew about such things. It was clear he’d had a wide acquaintance with women before their marriage. Maybe he had other children? Well, even if he did not he was bound to know more than she did.
She could not ask him though. He was not here. A note had finally arrived last evening apologizing for his delay. The missive was a wonder of gentle phrasing and persuasive language and after reading it once she had been prepared to forgive him anything. After reading it twice she was convinced it was her fault that he had left and she was plotting ways to make it up to him. The third reading had set her blood to boil.
He was manipulating her. Every word she’d ever heard about how he could convince anyone of anything was true. She did not know why he bothered, but his intent was clear. For his own reasons he wanted to be in her good graces.
She did not know why it bothered her as much as it did. Did it matter if he wanted to earn her pleasure? Is not that what a wife should desire?
She rubbed at the pain in her lower back. She hadn’t felt quite right ever since she’d awoken that morning feeling achy and a bit swollen. Were these natural symptoms of having a child? She worked at the knot in her back and wished she knew.
Ever since the wedding her health had gradually improved, gaining back her color and her nausea subsiding. Then this morning the ache had begun.
A bit of air was what she needed. It had rained the past few days and even a stroll in the back garden would bring relief. She stopped and looked out the window at the wet yard. Even the path was covered with puddles. She glanced at her own delicately slippered feet. Her practical half boots had disappeared and a dozen pairs of these silly concoctions had taken their place. It was undoubtedly Lady’s Smythe-Burkes doing.
She glanced again at the muddy garden and then with a small smile headed towards the back of the house. As a girl, she had frequently sought the comfort of the kitchen to escape her mother’s tirades, and the smell of citrus tarts drew her on. The staff had come to know her tastes. It was wonderful to have someone try to please her.
Except when it was her husband.
She rubbed the letter that she’d slipped into her pocket. The paper crinkled at her touch and she drew her hand back at the sound. She shuffled her slippers along the floor as she considered. She was being moody. A brisk walk would make all the difference.
Activity in the kitchen drew to a complete halt as she entered. Resisting the urge to flee – she was the mistress of the house.
She broke the silence by asking, “Does anyone have any boots I can borrow?”
Three jaws dropped and snapped shut. The young flaxen-haired boy near the door merely giggled.
Cook finally pulled herself together enough to answer. “I am sorry, milady, I am not sure I heard you right.”
“I asked if you had boots I could borrow, or even proper shoes. I want to walk in the garden and I doubt these will survive even a splash of water.” Marguerite stuck her foot out showing the flimsy slipper.
The boy giggled again and the two kitchen maids exchanged glances. One of them lifted the edge of her skirt revealing feet half again the size of Marguerite’s. The other followed suit, showing off a pair of feet equally as large. The cook shrugged and lifted her skirts. Hers were actually even larger. Even the boy lifted a boot revealing that even his feet were bigger than Marguerite’s. He stared back at her with shining gray eyes. His amusement was contagious. The darkness that had followed her all day lifted.
“Do you think I could stuff them with rags?” Marguerite asked. The garden beckoned and the thought of another day stuck indoors was not to be born. Will pulled his foot back and looked like he wanted to bolt for the door.
“Will, don’t you have a pair you’ve outgrown? Yours aren’t that much bigger,” one of the maids asked.
The boy looked disgruntled at the question, but nodded, his silver eyes still focused on the door.
“Well, go get them then. Don’t make her ladyship wait. It will be raining again if you don’t hurry.”
The boy dawdled a moment longer, and then, when cook gestured at him with the