AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Coin!”
At least he didn’t say gin.“Seeing as how the conservatory is well swept and all the trees are watered, off with you now.” He headed to the door empty-handed. “No, lad, not just you. The pails need taking back to the scullery, don’t they?”
“Theyneed a dash of legs of their own,” he muttered.
*****
Molly stared at her own name penned in Lady Clara’s elegant script. Anticipation made her heart race as she sat at the small table in her chamber; her eyes focused on the lettering no matter how much the warm candlelight flickered.
Leading up to her ladyship’s departure, she had prayed with all her might that her employer would change her mind about leaving Molly in town, or that upon arrival to Anterleigh, she would send for her. In recent weeks, however, her devotions became filled with gratitude for the unforeseen changes—the opportunity to become closer to Frederick—and for his very existence, a man nearly as strange as she.
If Lady Clara’s letter instructed Molly to travel to Anterleigh, she would do so…but she would be torn. In addition to Frederick, she’d found a measure of peace in her new role in the household and had even come to accept her ladyship’s wisdom. Of course, she still fretted for Lady Clara, but it was a relief not to feel ill with worry every day watching her ladyship progress in her pregnancy.
You can’t finish the task until you start.
Her oft-spoken words to Thomas—and before that, to her sisters and brothers—echoed in her mind.
Taking in a breath, she flipped the letter over and gently broke the seal. When the thick wax gave, she knew there was no going back; something momentous was about to occur in her life.
She recognized the small key immediately—it opened a drawer in Lady Clara’s ornate desk. She held it for a moment, still flummoxed about her ladyship’s intentions, before setting it aside to read the correspondence.
Dear Molly,
I am writing this letter while you are in the music room with Mr. Vogel, where he is banging away at those infernal fourths. By the time you read this, I shall be at Anterleigh, having instructed Mrs. Taylor to provide this to you…if you and Mr. Vogel are courting and upon her assessment that you are nothing short of smitten.
These contents shall be private, I assure you, known only to you and me. Your loyalty and steadfast service all these years mean a great deal to me. Knowing that you are in London without family, I hope you will permit me the liberty of addressing the following subject, intimate though it may be.
Our conversation about congress between a man and a woman without pregnancy was vague, and—forgive my straightforward speech—of great interest to you. Before you burn this letter without finishing it, do not fear. I shall not be instructing you.
Prior to my James, I had neither experience nor detailed knowledge of this subject, and that lack of expertise was a source of distress as I anticipated what was to come. I managed to acquire some texts, and while, yes, they were quite shocking, they were also elucidating. Enclosed is the key to my desk so that you may access them.
Gasping, Molly closed her eyes and let go of the parchment before she crumpled or tore it with her tense hands.
My sweet lady consulted shocking texts!
When the dizziness registered, she breathed deeply several times. As discomfiting as the revelation was, it wasn’t truly surprising considering Lady Clara’s daring behavior in the years that followed her aunt’s death. Opening a charitable house in Soho for prostitutes—even spending time there—then pursuing a liaison with Mr. Robertson!
During the prolonged illness of her ladyship’s aunt, she had consulted with physicians and apothecaries; yet she’d also consumed vast quantities of medical texts intended for those experts. Her musicianship was as technical as it was passionate, and there, too, she did not shy away from texts intended for men.
Of course, Lady Clara had sought written instruction on thisotherprior to embarking on her adventures. She’d always had a bold streak, hadn’t she?
Molly’s cheeks warmed as she thought back to those days before her ladyship’s first visit to Mr. Robertson. The young woman had always loved to read, but had eschewed her usual dedication to embroidery in favor of even longer hours in her back parlor.
Privately.
With the door locked.
Tapping her knee through her night rail in bursts of three, Molly thought,But I’m no Lady Clara. I’m no lady! This is wicked, this is!
Then Frederick’s question flitted through her mind, filling her with hope.
Molly, what if our purpose is to create a family—one that is you and me?
This understanding, at least in principle, that whatever they were to share in a marriage bed wasnotwicked, was now put to the test.
Was it wicked to prepare for him?
Molly turned and looked over at her narrow bed against the wall, the place where most nights, she slipped her hand between her thighs. The secret pleasure she wrought came with no small amount of guilt, yet she had persisted in it.
