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“At least you had her,” Darby mumbled.

“What’d you say, man?”

“Nothing.” There was no point to discussing it, and a gentleman never discussed such things anyway, especially when in the company of people who beat each other with kitchen implements.

< 17 =

Marital Intimacy, Sometimes Referred to as Marital Congress, And Sometimes As Unnecessary

Miss Pettigrew came out of the door of the schoolroom, pulling on warm gloves. Then she turned around and locked the schoolhouse door.

She looked a little surprised to see Henrietta standing on the stoop, as well she might since Henrietta had pleaded fear of the storm as a reason to cut their meeting short, and that a good ten minutes ago.

Henrietta watched Miss Pettigrew march away, back stiff, movements crisp, and felt a curling sense of relief. She had never let herself feel how reluctant she was to remain unmarried. What was the point of reading books about raising children, with the pretext of aiding at school, when all she really wanted was to raise her own children? But if she admitted the truth, she loathed the idea of a life without children and without a husband. Which was a deplorable thought, she told herself. Miss Pettigrew had flatly told her, when they first met, that she saw no use in husbands. “They take an unwarranted control over a woman’s personal circumstances,” she had said. “My 136 Eloisa

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own sister—” But she pressed her lips together and didn’t continue.

Henrietta had nodded and agreed, trying to find fellowship in the company of like-minded women. Except that she wasn’t entirely like-minded. She wanted Darby, with his warm brown eyes and angular cheekbones, his lace and exquisite clothing. She giggled to herself, thinking of his curricle trimmed in gold lace and a fringe. By fifteen minutes later she was growing very cold, and somewhat concerned. Big snowflakes had begun to drift lazily from an oily gray sky. It was surely coming on to snow, and Jem was still waiting for her on the edge of the village. He must be getting annoyed at keeping the horses out in such weather. She bit her lip and waited another five minutes. The snow was thickening, and even though the drive home was a mere half mile, she couldn’t afford to wait. Parsnip and Parsley weren’t plow horses, used to being abroad in all weather. They needed to be snug in the barn, with a hot mash and plenty of hay.

Finally, she started off down the street, walking slowly in case Darby came running down the street. The very idea was ridiculous—Darby running?

The sensations that rolled over her at the mere thought of Darby made her stepmother’s announcement all the more difficult to understand.

“What on earth do you mean?”

Millicent was normally a calm and rather placid person. But she kept twisting her hands in her lap, and there were traces of tears around her eyes.

“I mean,” she began. As she had began three or four times.

“I mean that you can’t—can’t be married—”

“Darby doesn’t want children, Millicent,” Henrietta repeated patiently. “He doesn’t care a bit about my inability to Fool for Love

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have children. He told me himself that he considers them an egregious nuisance.”

“Oh, this is all my fault!” Millicent cried. “I should have discussed this with you long ago! It’s my stupid reluctance to be straightforward.”

Henrietta stilled. An empty feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She clenched her hands in her lap and said, as calmly as she could, “Is there a further reason why I mustn’t marry?”

“Yes. Well, yes and no,” Millicent said miserably. Millicent seemed to be utterly unable to clarify herself. A new, rather horrible idea occurred to Henrietta.

“Did Darby tell you that he didn’t wish to marry me? That he found me objectionable in some way?”

Millicent shook her head.

Henrietta blinked with relief. “Then you must tell me why I cannot marry someone, even if he doesn’t wish for children.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can.”

“It’s because of—of marital congress. Do you . . . do you have any idea what that means?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you talking about marital intimacy?”