The Lady's Maid

"Ah, I don't believe we'll be doing a bedding ceremony," protested Thomas.

A man with unruly blonde hair whose name I did not know clapped him on the back. "What, you afraid, boy? Don't think you can perform under pressure?"

The laughter was roaring, and it echoed in my ears as I looked on, horrified. I had told Mrs. Digby that I refused to be involved in such an obscene tradition. She was sitting nearby, and I looked at her helplessly as the men surrounding us insisted on a bedding.

Mrs. Digby, with all her gracious gracefulness and propriety, stood up. "Gentlemen, please. A bedding ceremony is so antiquated. Wouldn't you rather have another drink?"

Most of the men cheered, but Henry and the blond man insisted on.

"Come on, Digby, we all want to see our dear Charlotte be strummed." Henry threw an arm around my shoulders. "Your new wife's a little minx. She's been the talk of the town for years. Let us have a gander at her before she gets all plumped up with children."

"Henry Lawrence, you absolute unlicked quim!" I spat. "Take your hands off me."

"Oh, don't be such a sorning twat, Charlotte, you—"

He was interrupted by Thomas roughly grabbing his collar.

"Watch your tongue, man," he growled. "That is my wife, and I'll thank you to not only respect the good lady, but to remove your hands from her lest I remove yours from your wrist."

Thomas was not only a good deal taller than Henry, but outweighed him significantly. In fact, Henry was so outmatched that he had difficulty extracting his arm from around me as he hurried to comply with Thomas's demands. Once completed, Thomas let go and Henry glared as he straightened his shirt.

"I'm sorry to see you end your evening so early," Thomas said jovially. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Lawrence, and good evening to you."

Henry did not look at either of us as he strode from the gallery, pushing past Alice as she scurried towards me.

"Char... I mean, milady. Are you all right?"

I was shaking, but not from distress. Rather, I was enraged at Henry's behaviour, and confused by Thomas's immediate protection. I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap Henry across his face and spit at him. I wanted to push down the flare of gratitude and bashful appreciation at watching Thomas defend me.

"Thank you, Miss Clayton. I am fine."

A large hand tentatively touched my shoulder, and I turned to find Thomas hovering beside me. Hesitantly, he brought the hand to my cheek, lightly touching my face.

"Are you certain?" he asked.

Certain of what, exactly? I was not certain of anything, because the moment his fingers grazed my skin, a sense of warmth and comfort flowed through my body. I looked at Thomas, stricken by confusion, seeing him in a way I had not seen him before.

I have spoken of Thomas's attractiveness, his broad shoulders and earnest face. In that moment, though, I was stunned by the way he looked at me. Concern filled his eyes, and I forgot of my anger and despondence. My body told me to kiss him, to let him embrace me, and I nearly stepped forward to do so.

"Charlotte? Are you certain you are all right?" he repeated.

The moment fled, leaving me more confused than ever.

"I am. Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate your standing up for me."

He bowed slightly. "You are my wife. I vowed to protect you."

"Still, you have my thanks."

He smiled softly. "You take care of yourself well. 'Unlicked quim,' was it?"

My mouth dropped open. In the heat of the moment, I hadn't thought of the fact that Thomas, the Digbys, my father, and every notable noble person in the area was present when I shouted at Henry.

"My apologies for speaking so rudely, I was not... err, that is..."

"Please do not apologize. I intend on adding that insult to my repertoire."

He looked about to say something else, but was interrupted by Edmund barreling across the room and complimenting him on his fine removal of the unsavoury Mr. Lawrence. I managed to turn from them without rolling my eyes. Men, I thought cynically. Men and their absolute need to appear masculine, to celebrate strength and roughhousing and defending their honour.

I noted a distinct lack of Philip's presence. The lady he had been dancing with was looking at the exit. I followed her gaze and saw the back of Philip's form disappearing out the door Henry had exited from. My heart swelled with both worry and pride as I realized Philip was going after him.

Mrs. Digby was still close by, and she put a comforting hand on my forearm. "How awful, Charlotte, dear. I hope that unruly young man's behaviour does not spoil the evening for you."

"Not at all, Mrs. Digby." I glanced at Thomas, who was rubbing the back of his neck as he laughed at Edmund's impression of Henry's exit. He was a surprising man, in some ways. "It has been a lovely evening, Mr. Lawrence's behaviour notwithstanding."

"Thank you, dear." She patted my arm. "I am so happy to have you join our family. I love my son, but I always yearned for a daughter. I know that I may never take your mother's place, but I hope in time we can have a wonderful friendship."

"I hope for the same, Mrs. Digby." I took her hand and squeezed it lightly.

I could not keep from smiling. For all the frustrations and sadness I was experiencing, Mrs. Digby truly seemed to be an earnest woman. At least there was that, I thought. At least I had Mrs. Digby, for now.

Glancing back at Thomas, I watched as Edmund clapped him on the back. They both laughed again. In the midst of Thomas's laughter, his eyes flicked to me, and I saw the yearning in them as he gazed at me. There was not to be a public bedding, but a bedding would still need to occur.

The thought made my stomach flip with nervousness. But somewhere below my stomach, a flicker of something else was growing, so small and light that I could easily have confused it with nerves had I not felt that same flicker in the past with Alice.

My body did not seem to be on the same page as my mind with regards to my marriage. Though, even my mind was curious to find out what would happen that night. I could no longer bring myself to deny Thomas's attractiveness.

I turned to Mrs. Digby, hoping my face was not turning red. "May I ask your leave to return to my room? I refuse to be involved in such an obscene sight as a bedding ceremony, but I should like some time to myself before..."

I trailed off, and Mrs. Digby smiled knowingly.

"You need not ask me for leave from your own wedding, my dear. But of course, you should take some time for yourself." She squeezed my hand, her voice lowering. "Do not be nervous. Whatever may be, I know my son loves you. Good night, dear."

Alice escorted me back to my room after I bid farewell to the few acquaintances I truly had wanted to see. She spoke softly to me as we walked, but I could not bring myself to respond.

No words were exchanged between us as she helped me remove the cumbersome dress and corset I had been suffering from all day. I could not stand to look at her as I waited, and instead held her hand as we sat at the edge of the bed. The room was warmed by the fire, but a persistent chill seemed to engulf my bones.

I tried to see things as Alice would. She had said she hoped I would at least be happy, that though the circumstances were unfair, I should try to see the good that came of it.

It was unimaginably difficult to do that, especially with Alice sitting beside me and holding my hand. All I wanted was for her to finish undressing me, to take me in her arms and to make love to me. I did not want Thomas. I wanted her.

Except I did want Thomas. The memory of his fingers brushing against my cheek awakened an entirely new set of emotions, and the confusion from those mixed with the sadness and anger and depression had me dizzy. Those looks he had given me, those gazes and stares. The way he had defended me. Deep inside, something in me had cracked and I could no longer deny that I desired him.

How could I possibly, though? How could I possibly desire both Thomas and Alice? And how could I possibly have desire for anyone other than Alice? The guilt of wanting my own husband over my lover battled with the guilt of wanting my lover over my own husband. It seemed that no matter which side won, I would be left with nothing but guilt.

Eternity seemed to pass as we waited, suspended in silence and sadness, until three soft taps at the door signalled Thomas's arrival. With a final squeeze of my hand, Alice stood to open the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Digby," she greeted softly.

"Good evening, Miss Clayton."

A tense moment passed. I lifted my head, feeling as though a thousand pounds of weight were crushing against me, and looked towards Alice and Thomas.

She met my eyes, and the shadow of an encouraging smile crossed her lips.

"Thank you, Miss Clayton. That will be all for tonight." My voice was choked, the words passing through what felt like grains of sand within my throat.

"Yes, milady." With a final glance, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Thomas glanced about my room, eyes falling along the walls, to the mantel and its various trinkets, and to my dressing table. His face was serious but nervous, and when he looked at me, I felt nothing but dread.

"May I call you Charlotte now?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"I am no longer Miss Blythe."

He moved through the room slowly, approaching me at the bed. My hands were cold, and I hoped he could not see how badly they were trembling. I thought perhaps he would simply push me down and have his way with me. As large as he was, any struggle I could make would be in vain, and as I was his wife, it was well within his rights to do so.

My shoulders tensed as he stepped closer, and when he was within arms' reach, I closed my eyes. However, his touch never came. Instead, he sat beside me on the bed, slightly further away than Alice had been sitting just moments before.

I opened my eyes and glanced warily at Thomas. He was staring at his hands, which were clasped in his lap. Again, the room was drenched in silence, until I could no longer stand it.

"What will you have me do?" I asked.

He turned his head to look at me.

"I must apologize," he said.

"What must you apologize for?"

"That you have been made to marry me against your wishes. Knowing the unhappiness it was causing you, I asked permission that we not proceed, but neither my parents nor your father would agree."

His revelation rendered me speechless, and I could only gape at him. Thomas looked back down at his hands, his own despondence clear, and a surge of guilt filled my chest.

"I cannot undo our marriage, Charlotte. But I will do what I can to make it easier. I am not a man who breaks vows, and I vowed to care for you as my wife. I will never purposely hurt you."

It was not what I expected, nor did I understand it. Thomas had no discernible reason to act as gentlemanly as he was. As his wife, it was expected that I would handle whatever he asked of me. Yet, his concern was ensuring my comfort.

"I am sorry," I whispered, and I tentatively reached out and touched his hand. "You do not deserve my unhappiness, but I cannot help feeling as I do."

"I know." He turned his hand in his lap, clasping mine in it. "Perhaps, in time, we will build happiness together."

His hand was larger than Alice's, enveloping mine almost completely in a dry warmth that contrasted my chilled skin. Where her fingers had been dainty and soft, his were strong and calloused. Again, the thought crossed my mind that he could crush me, yet he was as gentle as could be. And with that, the reminder that we must consummate our marriage returned, bringing with it a nervous knot that settled in the pit of my stomach just above the renewed flicker of desire.

"May I ask a forward question?" I said suddenly.

"Certainly."

"And you will answer truthfully?"

"Of course."

"Have you been with a woman before?"

Whatever Thomas had expected me to ask, it was not that. His eyes widened almost comically, and it was all I could do to keep the instinctive reflex of laughter from escaping. As it stood, I had to press my lips together to keep from giggling while looking up at Thomas.

"As it happens, well, ah... yes," he stuttered. "Does this upset you?"

I shook my head. "It was just a curiosity."

"Will you answer truthfully if I ask you?"

"I will."

He smirked, a light laugh dancing through his eyes. "And?"

"I have not been with a man before."

Thomas tilted his head slightly, his face serious again. "And what about a woman?"

I froze, eyes wide. He couldn't possibly...

"Surely, you jest," I murmured.

"It will not upset me to hear the truth."

He knew. Somehow, he knew.

But what did he know? Had he heard rumours? Had he seen something, sensed something?

Did he know it was Alice, and did he know she was coming with us when we left in two days' time?

Questions swirled around in my mind, my heart racing as quickly as the thoughts did. Still frozen, unable to speak nor move, I stared at Thomas helplessly.

He gazed back at me patiently, eyes steady as he looked into my eyes. Moments passed, and when my thoughts began to settle, I sighed.

"It seems that you know the answer already. I will not deny it. Does this change how you think of me?"

"No." He took my other hand and brought it to the first, collecting both in his warm grip. "It helps me to understand."

I had thought I knew who Thomas Digby was, what he would be like to marry. It was clear that I had been mistaken. Most men would deem that I was not worthy of their understanding, nor their kindness, nor would they accept that I had lain with a woman before, yet Thomas was showing me patience and acceptance of an unimaginable level.

He looked at me with quiet longing, an expression on his face that was almost pained as he gazed at me. I did not doubt Mrs. Digby's claim that he loved me, nor Alice's statement that he was enamoured with me from before we even met.

It would have been much easier to hate him if he did not love me.

"Thank you, Thomas," I said softly. "And thank you for defending me tonight."

"Thank you for the new insult. 'Unlicked quim.' I adore the phrase."

We chuckled quietly, and despite efforts to remain miserable, Thomas began to heal some of the cracks in my heart at that moment.

His hands shifted and he touched my cheek again. Just like earlier in the evening, a feeling of comfort and desire trickled through me. "We must consummate our marriage, Charlotte. I know you do not like men, but will it be all right for you?"

I did not know how to tell him that I appreciated men as much as women. I certainly appreciated Thomas's handsomeness, the strength of his arms and the ruggedness of his looks. How could I explain that my love for Alice was based on her soul, not her body? That my sadness was not due to his being a man, but to the loss of my love and my freedom?

He took my silence as an answer. "Would you prefer if we asked Miss Clayton back to help?"

I could not imagine Alice being in the room, seeing her as I submitted myself to another person. Flushing horribly red, I shook my head.

"It will be all right." I paused, then steeled my reserve. "I would like to try now, in any case."

Thomas nodded, and brought his arms around me. With a tenderness I did not think possible, he brought his lips to mine and kissed me. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, willing thoughts of Alice out of my head.

His arms were comforting around me, thick and warm and strong. The feel of his lips matched: steady, powerful, but not demanding. The kiss lasted only a moment, a precursor to what was to come, and Thomas pulled back slowly.

"I think this should work better if we were to undress," he said.

Nervously, I nodded and stood up from the edge of the bed. With Thomas's eyes on me, I removed the rest of my clothing, then made to sit back down. He reached out and took my wrist, stopping me.

"May I look at you?"

I nodded again and moved in front of him as his eyes travelled down my body. He could not hide the desire from his face, could not stop himself from staring at my nakedness, drinking in the most private corners of my body.

"That Henry Lawrence was a mewling twat, but he was not wrong in his appreciation of your beauty. Charlotte, you are lovely."

"Thank you, Thomas." My voice was immeasurably quiet, and I struggled to keep it from wavering.

"May I touch you?"

Once more, I nodded. Thomas stood and stepped closer to me. His strong hands came to my shoulders, touching my bare skin lightly as he leaned down to kiss me again. He moved slowly and carefully, his hands touching first my arms, then my waist, then up my ribs to the undersides of my breasts. He hesitated only for a moment before cradling my breasts, one in each hand.

He may not have been Alice, but my body still responded. Beneath his palms, my nipples hardened, and a shiver of anticipation crawled down my spine. Thomas explored my breasts thoroughly as we kissed, his fingers working along my flesh, tugging gently at my nipples and running along the sensitive skin between my bosoms.

Once he was finished outlining my breasts, his hands moved back down my body. Suddenly, he pulled me closer to him, our bodies pressed together as his hands wrapped around to my backside. I gasped as he gripped the flesh of my buttocks, the pressure of his fingers unexpected as they dug in.

Thomas continued kissing me as he released my rear, hands now travelling up my back as I pressed against him. Once he reached my shoulders again, he stepped back.

He was still wearing the clothing he had worn for our wedding, and he asked if I could assist with unclasping his cufflinks and buckles. My trembling fingers unhooked and unbuckled, and Thomas removed the rest of his clothing, saying nothing as I watched.

I had never seen a man without his clothing before, aside from when William the stable boy had taken off his shirt. But that was just the top part; what lay below was a mystery. I knew what was there, theoretically. Alice and I had once found an anatomy book in the study, and we had been stricken at the drawing of the man. Anecdotally, I also knew what happened to a man's body when he was with a woman. Mrs. Clayton had taken time before the wedding to speak to me about the process, seeing as my mother was not there to do so herself.

With only an anatomical drawing and a short conversation with our housekeeper, I had conjured up an image of what I thought would be there when Thomas removed his breeches. With that in mind, I had prepared myself for what was to come, telling myself that I was not afraid and that there was nothing to worry about.

That image was not accurate in the slightest, and I was quite afraid and had plenty to worry about.

When Mrs. Clayton had told me a man's member grew stiff, I had pictured the proportions of the drawing in the book, only poking out a bit. Neither Mrs. Clayton nor the book had given any mention to the fact that a man's member grew larger when stiff. I suddenly understood why Mrs. Clayton had said there might be pain when he stuck it inside of me. While Alice had put her fingers into me countless times, her fingers were not so thick as the bulging appendage now before me.

I am not sure what the expression on my face looked like, but Thomas cleared his throat uncomfortably and I tore my eyes away from the protrusion between his legs. As I met his eyes, the discomfort in his face changed, and he laughed.

"I did not doubt your honesty that you had never been with a man before, but now I am most certain that you have not."

"It is not what I expected," I admitted. "I thought... or, well, rather, I did not think..."