Reeves request entrance to my rooms before luncheon on a weekday was supremely unsettling, but not at all unwelcome.
‘Of course,’ I said my hands flying to my hair. ‘Come in.’
The door opened and Frederick entered. His frame fairly blocked the doorway, and I was reminded once more how imposing a man he is, even when he is not behind the pulpit.
He took one glance at me and his cheeks reddened.
‘Forgive me, I did not realise you had undressed.’ He turned, readying himself to depart once again.
‘That is quite all right. I was simply changing for luncheon,’ I said, gesturing to my discarded dress. ‘Please, do not go.’ I reached for his hand to halt his withdrawal.
Mr Reeves’ hand was very warm.
He looked down at my hand holding his, and an expression of surprise rushed across his face, which then darkened.
I knew that I should lose him then, he would depart and then any chance at conversation, amore or indeed anything else at all should have no occasion to occur.
‘Mr Reeves, it shall not take me long to dress. You may assist me instead of Minny if you wish,’ I spoke in a rush.
He said nothing for a time, and so I forged forth, hoping that my state of deshabille may entice him to stay when my words failed. Without allowing him time to respond, I turned to face the looking glass, correcting a pin in my hair. ‘I did not tell you earlier, but I happened upon Mrs Hatfield on my way home from Mr Quake. Poor little Louisa had cut her hand terribly. Mrs Hatfield asked if I may attend to her; I fear I have soiled my gown.’
Mr Reeve’s eyes darkened. ‘Is that so? I had noticed no stains.’
I turned to face him and smiled, perhaps a little too brightly. Much to my surprise and delight, his gaze actually devoured me – an expression I’d scarce seen on him before. I knew my chemise was nearly sheer, as it was one of my more worn ones – white, but the cotton so old and thin, my form was clearly visible beneath.
My throat tightened, but I continued in the vein of our conversation as propriety insisted. ‘Yes. I have suggested that Mr Cole goes to maintain the injury. I am no physician, after all.’
Frederick nodded. ‘It was good of you to offer your assistance.’ He sounded choked. I saw his eyes dart away, lingering instead on the small wooden crucifix that hung upon my wall. I knew then that he had some type of concern, for he uttered a sigh.
I smoothed the cloth over my breasts and down my sides. ‘Is something the matter, Mr Reeves?’ I asked, and reached for my dress.
He turned and looked at me once more, a frown forming a deep crease betwixt his brows.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘As a matter of fact, there is.’
My heart beat a little wild tattoo, and my hand hesitated over the fresh gown. Was he to say something of what had happened the other night? I prayed so. Or had he found out about Mr Goddard? I prayed not. I worried my lower lip, dressing forgotten.
‘You frighten me, what is it?’
‘I have reservations about Jonathan coming to stay,’ he confessed.
My surprise was piqued. ‘Jonathan?’
‘Indeed, I cannot help but feel that this will be awkward for you.’
Thank the Good Lord! I was delighted by his concern for me. In my acquaintance, Mr Reeves has never seemed an overly jealous or concerned husband. Certainly, issues of morality and faith concern him, but my well-being, or comfort for that matter, have always seemed a secondary thing to him, I’m certain. So it was that his confession made my breast swell with utter delight.
I laughed, hurrying to reassure him. ‘No, not at all. It was years ago and I married you, after all.’ I smiled.
My words did not have the placatory effect I had anticipated. My smile wilted, for Frederick’s face was grim.
‘We wed because your father wished it. You would never have married me otherwise. Had your father given you his blessing, you would have been Jonathan’s wife, not mine.’
The silence grew heavy and Mr
‘Of course,’ I said my hands flying to my hair. ‘Come in.’
The door opened and Frederick entered. His frame fairly blocked the doorway, and I was reminded once more how imposing a man he is, even when he is not behind the pulpit.
He took one glance at me and his cheeks reddened.
‘Forgive me, I did not realise you had undressed.’ He turned, readying himself to depart once again.
‘That is quite all right. I was simply changing for luncheon,’ I said, gesturing to my discarded dress. ‘Please, do not go.’ I reached for his hand to halt his withdrawal.
Mr Reeves’ hand was very warm.
He looked down at my hand holding his, and an expression of surprise rushed across his face, which then darkened.
I knew that I should lose him then, he would depart and then any chance at conversation, amore or indeed anything else at all should have no occasion to occur.
‘Mr Reeves, it shall not take me long to dress. You may assist me instead of Minny if you wish,’ I spoke in a rush.
He said nothing for a time, and so I forged forth, hoping that my state of deshabille may entice him to stay when my words failed. Without allowing him time to respond, I turned to face the looking glass, correcting a pin in my hair. ‘I did not tell you earlier, but I happened upon Mrs Hatfield on my way home from Mr Quake. Poor little Louisa had cut her hand terribly. Mrs Hatfield asked if I may attend to her; I fear I have soiled my gown.’
Mr Reeve’s eyes darkened. ‘Is that so? I had noticed no stains.’
I turned to face him and smiled, perhaps a little too brightly. Much to my surprise and delight, his gaze actually devoured me – an expression I’d scarce seen on him before. I knew my chemise was nearly sheer, as it was one of my more worn ones – white, but the cotton so old and thin, my form was clearly visible beneath.
My throat tightened, but I continued in the vein of our conversation as propriety insisted. ‘Yes. I have suggested that Mr Cole goes to maintain the injury. I am no physician, after all.’
Frederick nodded. ‘It was good of you to offer your assistance.’ He sounded choked. I saw his eyes dart away, lingering instead on the small wooden crucifix that hung upon my wall. I knew then that he had some type of concern, for he uttered a sigh.
I smoothed the cloth over my breasts and down my sides. ‘Is something the matter, Mr Reeves?’ I asked, and reached for my dress.
He turned and looked at me once more, a frown forming a deep crease betwixt his brows.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘As a matter of fact, there is.’
My heart beat a little wild tattoo, and my hand hesitated over the fresh gown. Was he to say something of what had happened the other night? I prayed so. Or had he found out about Mr Goddard? I prayed not. I worried my lower lip, dressing forgotten.
‘You frighten me, what is it?’
‘I have reservations about Jonathan coming to stay,’ he confessed.
My surprise was piqued. ‘Jonathan?’
‘Indeed, I cannot help but feel that this will be awkward for you.’
Thank the Good Lord! I was delighted by his concern for me. In my acquaintance, Mr Reeves has never seemed an overly jealous or concerned husband. Certainly, issues of morality and faith concern him, but my well-being, or comfort for that matter, have always seemed a secondary thing to him, I’m certain. So it was that his confession made my breast swell with utter delight.
I laughed, hurrying to reassure him. ‘No, not at all. It was years ago and I married you, after all.’ I smiled.
My words did not have the placatory effect I had anticipated. My smile wilted, for Frederick’s face was grim.
‘We wed because your father wished it. You would never have married me otherwise. Had your father given you his blessing, you would have been Jonathan’s wife, not mine.’
The silence grew heavy and Mr
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