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Chapter 17
When Sam opened her eyes, she was alone in her room. The weak light peeking through her curtains indicated it was still midmorning. She tried to move and felt her muscles ache in strange places. Then she remembered last night and grimaced in pain and embarrassment.
She shifted, trying to gauge where it hurt. It seemed like everywhere. The burning pain between her legs wouldn’t go away. She still ached there and felt sore all over. It felt so good to be in John’s arms, so delicious to be kissed by him. But then he’d donethatto her. That horrible thing.
Oh, God, was it always going to be like that? Would she have to endure that agonizing pain every night for the rest of her life? The thought horrified her.
After the act was done last night, she’d been shaking. At least when his comforting weight was on top of her, she’d felt somehow safe and protected, cherished even as he crooned sweet words in her ear. But then he’d given her a light kiss on the forehead and left the bed. She didn’t remember how she’d gotten back to her room after that. Perhaps John had carried her over. But why? Sam was flabbergasted and confused.
She understood now why women referred to the marital act as unpleasant. Although she wouldn’t call it that exactly. Uncomfortable, embarrassing, incredibly painful, yes. Unpleasant? No, it wasn’t that. Maybe if he’d stayed with her after, kissed her, soothed her, she wouldn’t feel so bereft. Still, could she keep letting him do it to her night after night? He said he didn’t care for an heir. Children were her idea after all. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if they didn’t do that at all. That was an encouraging thought. Until she imagined a childless future and her world darkened.
She carefully sat up and moved her pillow so she could lean her back against the wall. If the act was always this terrible, how was she to explain all those women ruining their reputations over a tryst with St. Clare? She frowned in thought. Perhaps a tryst didn’t include that; maybe it consisted of something else. Or maybe it wasn’t painful for everyone. What if she was the problem? She closed her eyes tightly, trying to shake the thought away. Surely there was nothing wrong with her. What if the problem was with John? Perhaps it didn’t hurt with all men. Maybe that’s why all women flocked to St. Clare.
Was it all right to ask her husband questions such as these? Would he even know the answers? What if she disgusted him if she told him how she felt? She didn’t want to displease him on the first day of their marriage. But she’d promised him friendship, had she not? And that implied being completely honest with each other. She took a deep breath. Oh, if only her mother was alive to advise her about such things.
Sam scrambled from her bed and rang for the maid. A moment later, the door opened and footmen brought in the bath and filled it with hot water. Apparently, her thoughtful husband had ordered a bath to be brought in as soon as she awoke. The fact that he’d thought of her before leaving the house was an encouraging sign. She looked at the hot bath in anticipation. Soaking her tired muscles sounded heavenly.
As soon as the servants left, she stripped off her clothes and lowered herself in the water with a moan. Her muscles relaxed, and the stinging between her legs receded. This felt so pleasant. All of her earlier thoughts disappeared, leaving her feeling languid and restful.
She lay there until the water grew tepid, then lathered her skin with soap as she contemplated whether to breach the subject of the marital act to her husband. On one hand, she wanted to be honest with him. On the other hand, wouldn’t it drive a wedge between them if she refused him her bed in such an early stage of their relationship? Sam scrubbed her skin violently in frustration. She had known a marriage to John would be complicated; she hadn’t known, however, that it would become so from the start.
As soon as Sam went down for breakfast, Mrs. Lawson informed her that her husband had gotten up early, as was his usual habit, breakfasted, and left to work on estate matters with his tenants. He’d conveyed his regrets that he wouldn’t be back for supper and asked Sam not to wait for him.
Sam didn’t like the news. Was that how John saw their marriage? They would spend their days separately, not even share a supper, have marital relations, and sleep in separate beds after? Perhaps he’d planned on it when he was about to marry Evie, but Sam wasn’t about to let that stand.
No, this was not the marriage she wanted to have, and she would tell him about it at the first opportunity. Of course, that meant actually seeing her husband, which she wouldn’t have a chance to do until late at night. Perhaps she was overreacting. It was just the first day of them living together; they needed to get used to each other, to adjust to their new living arrangements. He had a lot of work to do, she knew that. He was also used to acting on his own. But he was married now, and he had to change his habits.
There was nothing she could do about it now. However, she could do something about other things. She picked up her notebook, took Mrs. Lawson by the arm, and proceeded to make plans for the manor renovations.
Mrs. Lawson was a lovely middle-aged woman. It turned out that John had hired her, her husband, and the rest of the household staff a week before his wedding. Apparently, the old baron had squandered all of his money away to the point that he had to let go of all the help. He’d lived with his valet and a butler in London and abandoned his estate and other properties that he owned. John, upon inheriting the title, sold all the unentailed properties, and everything else he could sell but kept the two remaining servants.
As Mrs. Lawson had told her the day before, there weren’t many people left in the village to choose from. When the old baron became impoverished, the tenants had suffered greatly. Those who could move away did, which left the place in even worse ruin than it was initially.
“I doubt he will be able to find more help to work on the manor from the village,” the woman continued. “The young and the healthy moved on months ago, finding work where they could. They had families to take care of. Most of the people who are left in the village are the ones who have either nowhere to go, or are too old, and don’t want to leave their homes.”
Sam absorbed the information and shook her head in dismay. There was too much work for such a small amount of people. They would need to work day and night to get things in order. That, of course, would give her husband the perfect opportunity to ignore her. As selfish as the thought was, Sam couldn’t help her distress over it.
“So, the village is full of the sick and the elderly?” she asked, another thought eclipsing her self-pity.
“Yes, seems like it,” the housekeeper agreed.
“As the new mistress of the Ashbury estate, I think I should get to know the people, don’t you think?” Sam asked, remembering how she and Isabel would go to their village with food baskets, medicine, and other gifts for the villagers. Theirs was a prosperous estate, but they used to look in on the sick, elderly, widows, or women in confinement. The Ashbury estate was anything but prosperous, which meant that the people here needed her even more. “Can you please order the cook to make some pies and other portable foods? I would like to call on my villagers.”
“Of course, My Lady,” the housekeeper answered. “But you don’t mean to head out there alone, do you?”
“I certainly do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, you are new here. Mayhap you should wait for your husband to go with you?”
Sam contemplated that for a while. She didn’t want to wait for John. She did not know when he would come back, and she didn’t want to set a precedence of always asking for his permission.
“No, Mrs. Lawson. This is my village now, and these people are my neighbors. I think I can converse with them without supervision.”
Mrs. Lawson just smiled, nodded, and scurried off in the direction of the kitchens.
A couple of hours later, Samantha and Gina were traveling toward the village in a carriage filled with goods. She was prepared to see the ailing estate, but what she saw exceeded her expectations, and not in a good way.
The village was devastated. No crops were growing in the fields, the roads were in an abysmal state, and the only bridge over the river was shaky and narrow. The village itself was small, and most cottages were ruined or abandoned.
