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Something wiggled in the distance and caught his eye. He peered with effort to devise it in the roaring rain while calling but the noise and the wind swirled it away. He rode faster in the direction it came from, still shouting. His lantern light fell on something glittering, a button. Then a hat and fluttering skirts. She walked, holding her horse’s reign, eyes fixed on his lantern. The sheeting water must have prevented her from seeing it from afar. Quickly he dismounted and approached her.
When the lantern caught her in its radius, he regarded Aurelia completely soaked, strands of hair sluicing under her ruined hat, bodice glued to her skin, face shiny with moisture. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Even in such deplorable state, she did not appear ruffled.
“My horse lost a shoe.” She explained in even tones. “I was walking home.”
Not in a panic his brave woman! The fact she would take hours to reach the manor in this weather did not frighten her. It did him though. Even a strong, non-nonsense woman like her would succumb to sickness in these conditions.
“Come.” He just said, relief washing over him with the rain. He lifted her in his arms, placed her on his saddle, legs to the side, and mounted the stallion behind her.
One hand tied her horse’s reign on his saddle horn, to bring it together with them. From one of his saddlebags, he took out a spare coat, wrapping it around her shoulders, keeping her in the circle of one arm. His other hand guided the stallion. Her body relaxed against him and her head fell on his shoulder, a sign of trust, he rejoiced. As much as weariness, he recognised.
Conrad remembered an old wooden cottage nearby which had not been demolished. Last he saw, it stood in one piece. He only hoped it would shelter them for the night.
He devised the thatched building ahead; it seemed all right from where he stood. The rain did not favour visibility though. Close to it, he dismounted, and tried the door. Stuck. After many forceful kicks, it gave. He took Aurelia into it. And returned for the saddlebags.
The conditions inside stood precarious. The roof leaked in a few places, dust covered the flooring and the sparse furniture, the air damp and cold. Small and two-roomed, it contained a bedroom and a bigger chamber that must have served as kitchen and sitting area. He made a mental note to tell Coleman to have it repaired as the old thing saved them tonight.
“I did not remember this cottage.” Aurelia said, looking around her.
“I rode this way the other day and came upon it.” He replied. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have remembered either.”
He placed Aurelia on a dusty worn chair, the saddlebags on another and walked around the place. Fortunately, a pile of logs lay beside the fireplace cum stove. He busied himself starting a fire; as it came up, it illuminated the room. Soon it would be warmer, he concluded relieved.
His attention turned to his wife; she stared at him in silence. Not a good beginning, he mused. All he wanted was to protect her from falling sick. He made her stand before him and started undressing her, by the tiny buttons on her back.
“I can do it.” She said simp
ly, when the buttons were undone.
“Let me.” He insisted, not gazing her in the eyes, as temptation would be too overpowering.
Her clothing off, he wrapped her in a dry blanket and put her clothes to dry on the other chair. She sat there, attention on the fire, wet hair down, straight spine. He could not gauge her mood. She might be exhausted or even frightened as far as he was concerned.
“I will take care of the horses.” He informed, on his way out.
The horses would overnight in an adjoining cramped barn—also in precarious conditions. After unsaddling both, he found grass to feed them.
His frame dripped all over, hat gone, midnight hair plastered to his head, clothes wet and cold. Back inside, he undressed his soaked clothes and put them to dry, picking a blanket for himself.
Aurelia sat with eyes closed seeming to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Her cheeks glowed, and she showed no signs of being indisposed.
“Are you alright?” He asked anyway.
She snapped her eyes open, the fire gleaming in the rosewood depths. “Yes, thank you.” She eyed him guarded, diverting her eyes quickly.
“I’ve brought food. We’ll eat and then rest.” He picked up a bundle of napkin in one of the saddlebags, laying bread, cheese and jam on the napkin on a shabby table.
They ate in quietude. She seemed hungry, eating her share in eager bites.
The bedroom was furnished with a pallet lined with old straw. He threw a spare blanket on it, lighting an abandoned candle. Picking Aurelia up, he took her to the makeshift bed. She did not resist, nor did she say anything. That silence of hers disquieted him, but he decided against trying to start a conversation now. It had been a long night. He lay her on the pallet carefully.
He took her and his blanket away, stretched beside her and covered both with the two blankets. He held her to keep her warm, her head on his arm. They exchanged awkward glances; she blinked a couple of times, falling asleep in seconds.
The events of the night wired him; sleep took a long time to carry him away. He gazed down at her sleeping in profound oblivion; a wave of something unrecognised invaded him. Oh, but he loved this woman! Solely now it hit him with full force! He had fallen in love with her remembering her in his lonely nights abroad. He rested his head down, his lips on her temple. That deep, robust, fierce emotion he had been carrying was love then. Love for her and their child, the child he helped make not even knowing it was out of this intense sentiment. Not reciprocated, he comprehended. Immaterial though; he would dedicate it to her and their children, regardless. With this in mind, slumber overtook him.
Conrad opened his eyes in alert. Something different happened. The morning light through the cracks in the solid wooden window greeted him. Memory came back. They slept in a shabby cottage out on his lands, because Aurelia got lost in the rain. He pierced his ears. The rain had subsided.
In the small hours, he had been up to feed logs into the fire and put on his already dry underpants, for fear of being taken… unawares by his wife’s allures.
