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“No? I know other households don’t favor their female staff marrying, but I wouldn’t restrict you. Aside from our household, you have no family in London. Whatever happiness you can find, you more than deserve.”
Molly’s gaze dropped to the floor. How could she possibly explain to her well-meaning but meddlesome employer that she would never,everbe willing to endure the marriage bed because of its inevitable consequences? Across from her sat a woman with child, one who wanted the babe desperately, even knowing the risks it entailed.
What words could convey her own distaste and fear that wouldn’t offend or hurt her ladyship?
“Molly, what is it?”
“I won’t be marrying, my lady. It’s not for me. I willnot…be a mother.”
Her ladyship’s voice was soft. “I know how you feel about that. But what of the companionship of marriage? The understanding found between two people united?”
The maid shook her head urgently. “From two people united comes pregnancy, my lady.” She heard her own pronouncement of the wordpregnancyand knew she’d uttered it as if it were a disease.
“There are…ways.The apothecary’s tinctures.”
Molly shook her head. “They don’t always work. Remember you—“ She gasped. “My apology, my lady!”
“No, no. You’re right, of course.”
Molly’s face twisted in worry after sadness coursed through her ladyship at the reminder. All throughout her illicit liaison with Mr. Robertson, she’d imbibed the bitter teas she purchased from the apothecary Mr. Patton, only to find herself with child—out of wedlock—regardless.
Lady Clara shook her head as if dispelling ill thoughts, then searched Molly’s gaze. “We’ve not spoken of such matters before, not in specific terms. If it isn’t welcome, please stop me. But I’m not ashamed to admit that I find gratification in the marriage bed. And before it was the marriage bed…the bed.”
Molly didn’t know where to look. Being a lady’s maid entailed intimate knowledge about her ladyship in many regards, but that differed from an open discussion of…amorous congress!
“To…know a man, Molly, it doesn’t necessarily require…”
Now Molly couldn’t help but stare at Lady Clara with rapt attention. “It doesn’t require…?”
“There are activities in which two interested parties may partake without resulting in maternity.”
Wringing her hands in her lap, Molly looked away again, but before she did, her gaze skittered down to Lady Clara’s belly.
“Oh! No, I…I have clearly partaken in more than those activities.” Her ladyship’s unfettered laughter brought a rush of warmth to Molly’s cheeks, though her hands felt cold. “But should you restrict yourself, there is no chance of conception.”
In Molly’s memory, her mother was always either with child or recovering from childbirth. The constant taxing of her body had stolen more than half her teeth and thinned her hair nearly to balding. She’d been pale and weak for the last years—until the last pregnancy, which had been fatal.
She cleared her throat and voiced her question so quietly, she wasn’t sure if her ladyship could hear her over the din of horse hooves, rattling wheels, and yelling that filled the London streets. “If that were possible, my lady, then why are so many babes born, one after another? Why wouldn’t my mother have…?”
“Oh, Molly. I suppose most people find themselves so carried away they don’t want to limit themselves to the activities which are…safest. Doesn’t that tell you how much gratification there is to be found? And we both know, sometimes women aren’t given a choice, are they?”
Shuddering, Molly looked out the window again, disappointed to find them stilled in traffic rather than stopping in front of the modiste’s.
No gratification can be worth the cost.
“Have I misunderstood your surreptitious glances at Mr. Vogel’s form when he lifts the heavy lid of my grand piano?”
“Oh! My lady!”
“’Tis nothing of which to be ashamed! Have you not seen how I regard my James? Well, of course you have. I’mgladdenedto see you take an interest in someone. It’s even more fortuitous, dear Molly, that this same individual shows an acute interest inyou. Oh, have you not noticed that Mr. Vogel shows every sign of being quite enamored?”
She shifted in her seat, unwilling to admit that she’d hoped that the fastidious man’s attentiveness had to do with more than his need for her help during his work. After a shrug, she forced herself to voice the opinion that perhaps the piano tuner simply required her help.
“Molly,” chided Lady Clara. “How many tuners over the years have come through my music room? You know very well that whatever their level of skill—or lack thereof—both the men and their work are quite solitary in nature. Mr. Vogel has no genuine need of your assistance!”
“But the draperies…”
“Pshh! Draperies. A ruse, clearly! You have your own, don’t you? Dusting is not in your duties, yet you set yourself to the task nearby when poor Mr. Vogel has run through his list of excuses to retain your attention.”
