Page 49 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
“I could have called one of those sturdy young footmen to carry me instead.”
“And deprive me of the chance? How often do I have a beautiful woman pressed up against me without anyone thinking twice about the proprieties?”
Hester told him where he could put the proprieties.
“I see that sailor’s mouth of yours hasn’t changed.”
“You could hardly have expected it to. Particularly since you taught me a few of the words.”
“The student has, I think, outshone the master.”
“Bollocks. Don’t tell me that men don’t have words they use when no ladies are around.”
“We do, but I expect ladies have words they use when no gentlemen are around, so I’m not sure that counts.”
Hester sniffed haughtily. As Richard no doubt intended, the conversation had been a welcome distraction from the pain. They reached the hallway to her chambers.
“Is it very much worse than it was?” he asked in an undertone, as they approached her door.
“No,” she lied. “I was just a fool and tried to run on it, because Penelope…” She swallowed the rest of the words, feeling tears starting in her throat.
Richard moved to embrace her and she put her hand on his chest. “Don’t,” she said hoarsely. “Don’t be kind to me. I’ll start bawling if you do.”
“I think I’d survive.”
Hester closed her eyes and imagined, just for a moment, being weak. Laying her head on Richard’s shoulder and letting him be strong for her. Letting herself pretend that the gulf between them was something that could be bridged with love and care and tears.
“I’m not sure I would,” she told him, and walked blindly through the door before her grief could overwhelm her at last.
The next morning passed in a haze of misery. Mary, Hester’s maid, rubbed goose grease on her swollen knee and wrapped it tightly while Hester cursed through gritted teeth.
“If you’d let me send for the doctor, this’d be easier,” Mary told her crossly.
“He’ll give me laudanum, and what’s the good of that?”
“The good is that it’ll hurt less,” Mary said, helping her into her dressing gown.
“Fat lot of good it’ll do if it puts me to sleep in the process.”
Mary gave her a wry look. She’d been in Hester’s employ for over a decade and took no nonsense. “Any particular reason you want to be awake for the pain?”
Hester sighed. “I have to keep my wits about me. That woman’s got Samuel eating out of her hand now.”
Mary’s lips thinned, but she didn’t argue the point. She helped Hester into the sitting room and set her in a chair, draping a lap quilt over her legs and sending for tea to fortify her against the trials to come.
Her first visitor was her brother, come to see how she was doing. “Nasty shock.” The ends of his mustache looked ragged, as if he’d been chewing on them. “Terrible business. But who knew the old girl had it in her?”
“I would swear she didn’t,” Hester said.
“Just goes to show you can’t ever tell.” He ran his hand over his thinning hair. “Back when she and I… when we…” He cleared his throat.
“Had an understanding,” Hester offered, bemused. The woman killed herself in front of us and you’re still hung up on the dignity of her having been your mistress years ago.
“Right, yes.” The Squire coughed. “Never showed any sign of that. Never a wild one. Never would have thought it.”
“No, she never was.” Hester stared into her teacup. “I’m sorry I invited her,” she said. “That is, I feel if I hadn’t, she’d still be alive.” The teacup shook in her hand and she glared at it as if it belonged to someone else.
“No, no,” said Samuel hastily. “Nothing like that, old girl. Brace up. If someone’s a bad ’un, it comes out eventually. Blame’s all on her. Stabbing someone at your friend’s house party! Shockingly bad form, what?”
