The Secret Rose (35 page)

This time Aisleen could not mask her surprise quickly enough.

Sarah smiled. “You are wondering about the others, since there is no child toddling about the parlor.”

“No, I do not wonder at all,” Aisleen lied. “And if I did, it is none of my affair.”

“That is true,” the woman agreed, “and because you have made such a pretty speech of it, I shall tell you. I have two lovely children in England, a boy and a girl, ages two and four. In fact, were I to return to my village in Somerset, I imagine I would be arrested as an adulteress.”

Sarah peered up at Aisleen through her lashes. “Don’t you wish to know how a mother could leave behind two darling lambs and a husband of some consequence, for he was, you see. My husband is a bishop with a stipend of no small sum.”

“It’s not my place to wonder anything at all,” Aisleen answered, growing more uncomfortable with every moment.

“You must have been a good and discreet governess,” Sarah replied. “Once I might have hired you myself if I could have trusted Sedgewick not to corrupt you. But then again, perhaps Sedgewick would not have had you because I
believe I see in you an incorruptible soul. You are shocked down to your shoes by my frankness.”

“No, not at all,” Aisleen murmured, wishing now only to escape to her room, but she was not to be so easily released from the woman’s confidence.

“Sedgewick was a heartless seducer of women,” Sarah continued serenely. “His preference was for young, excessively silly maids who thought it a great privilege to pray in the presence of a bishop. The trouble came when they found themselves off their knees and on their backs.”

She paused to sip her gin. “When the third maid left us in disgrace, sworn to secrecy against the incursion of God’s wrath, I left Sedgewick. I wanted nothing belonging to him, not his children, his stipend, nor the contents of his house. I wanted freedom, and that is what I’ve found here in Hill End.

“You will think me the lowliest of degenerates because I was a parson’s daughter and bishop’s wife. But I tell you I have quite a high opinion of morality and think it should be observed in no small measure. I confess freely that Matthew and I are not wed, but I shall stare into the face of Saint Peter himself and dare him to bar me entrance unless Sedgewick is sent to accompany me to hell. In which case, I shall joyfully participate in Sedgewick’s unceasing torment.”

Sarah raised twinkling eyes to Aisleen. “Have you nothing to say, no thought on the subject?”

Goaded to reply, Aisleen said, “I wonder that you would bring a child into the world without the protection of his father’s name.”

“Oh, but he shall have Matthew’s name, as I have taken it!” A smile softened Sarah’s expression. “Matthew was transported in ’thirty-nine for stealing. An emancipist has little chance of making his way once he’s received his papers unless he’s willing to work twice as hard as the next. Because of me, Matt has worked thrice as hard. Now he’s
an innkeeper with money in his pocket and a proper roof over his head. He likes to believe that I’m the cause of his success and that the child is God’s grace on us. Only a fool would deny it, and I’m not a fool.” She patted her prominent belly fondly. “This child will be loved better and more completely than the others who have their heritage free and clear.”

“But if you are not married—”

Sarah smiled serenely. “I had every legal and moral entanglement with Sedgewick, and it did not keep him from breaking his vows to me, the church, and the state. Laws do not hold a heart that does not wish to be held. Love only can make the abidance pleasant.”

“Love can change.”

“Love does not change. Trust, Mrs. Gibson, is that not what you vowed in your love of Tom?” Sarah’s cream complexion pinkened. “Oh, I do so enjoy plain speaking! I don’t mind telling you that I’ve gazed fondly on your Tom in more ways than is proper, being that I’m pledged to Matt. Not that he would have had me. He always said he’d know the one for him the instant he laid eyes on her.”

Aisleen frowned. “Why should he say that?”

Sarah leaned forward over her considerable middle and beckoned Aisleen with a crooked finger. “I don’t believe such things myself, being a proper Anglican, but Tom once said he was in league with pixies or some such Irish fancy.”

“Did he?” Aisleen murmured softly, remembering Tom’s reference to that very thing himself. “An Irishman with half Thomas’s gift for blarney might claim as much. It’s a common boast.”

Sarah eyed Aisleen with a knowing look. “All the same, I’d say Thomas has had his share of luck, considering his beginning in the colony.”

“What beginning would that be?”

Sarah’s expression went blank. “Has he not spoken to you of it?”

“No.”

“Oh, dear.” Sarah lowered her eyes and began fanning herself. “I did not think, did not think at all. What a silly goose I am!”

She looked up, blushing as a naughty child might, and Aisleen wondered how this seemingly naive woman could be the adulteress, child deserter, and mistress she proclaimed herself to be. “Tom will tell you about himself when he is ready. You won’t tell him that I mentioned it? Promise?”

“Of course not,” Aisleen answered because it was the only thing to do. She turned and quickly picked up her bundle. “I bought cloth with which to make a new gown. If I hurry, I can have it cut out before the men return.”

Sarah nodded, wishing that she had held her tongue. When Aisleen had gone into the next room, she glanced at her empty cup and then rose awkwardly to her feet. So Tom did not want his bride to know about his past. If he found out that she had nearly given away his secret, she would need more than a finger of gin to brave the storm.

*

“I like them very much,” Aisleen answered. “It is not a matter of liking them. Sarah is diverting company, and Matt seems a man of good character. It is only that I think we are imposing upon their hospitality.”

Thomas rolled from his back to his side to see his wife’s face better in the moonlight. “Where would you have us go, lass? Jack’s due in tomorrow or the next day. After that mob’s sold to slaughter, we’ll be heading home.”

“What if Jack is late or the sale takes longer than you expect?” she answered.

“What is a few days?” Thomas reached out to roll her
onto her side to face him. “Can ye think more kindly of the cook wagon than ye do the bed underneath us?” His hand curved down over her buttocks to pull her tight against his aroused loins. “Would ye be allowing me this with Jack and the others about to hear our every move?”

Aisleen blushed under the cover of darkness as he bent to kiss the side of her neck. “You know I would not. But still, could we not find a hotel? Our presence gives Sarah extra mouths to feed as well as extra work.”

“Mmm,” he murmured against her ear. “Matt tells me that ye’ll not be allowing Sarah to lift a finger when ye’re about, that even the maid is complaining that ye’re there behind her half the time. The house has never looked better. Why should Sarah be wishing ye to leave when ye work so diligently, and for nothing besides?”

Aisleen caught her breath as his tongue snaked into the hollow of her ear. “Thomas! You’re being inconsiderate because you’re too well pleased to have a bed to share with me to think of the consequences.”

“Oh, but I know the consequences, lass,” he whispered huskily as he thrust his hips provocatively against hers. “’Tis why I’m nae anxious to be gone from here. A few more days, ye salve your conscience for a few more days, cannae ye?”

Before she could answer, his mouth found hers, and it was a long time before Aisleen was free to think of anything more than the joy of his lovemaking and her own eager response.

“Can we leave in the morning?” Aisleen prompted when Thomas’s dark head once again lay quietly upon her left breast.

“If Jack comes in,” he muttered sleepily.

“Even if he doesn’t I would prefer to find another residence.”

Thomas lifted his head, peering into her night-shadowed face. “What’s the matter, lass?”

Aisleen wet her lips. “Do you know that Sarah and Matt are not legally wed?”

He tried in vain to see her expression. “Who told ye that?”

“Sarah.”

“And ye were that shocked with the hearing of it,” he answered flatly. “Lord love us! Yer prudish ways are certain to be sorely abused while ye remain in the bush. Lass, ye’ll not be living among the gentry and the genteel any longer. I’ve told ye before, there are different ways of thinking out in the bush. Ye’ll come to see the right of it after a time.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever see the right of it—as you put it—if that includes sharing my home with criminals.”

Thomas stilled. “Sarah told ye about that, too, did she?”

Aisleen sighed. “I know it makes me seem intolerant and self-righteous, but I cannot avoid the truth. As nice a man as Matthew Mahoney seems, I am not comfortable sharing my life with those of the criminal class.”

“What if I were to tell you I, too, was once a criminal?”

Aisleen smiled. “Do not be silly! Of course you were not, and so there’s no need to speak of it.”

“How can ye be so very certain?” he questioned quietly.

“Well, you would have told me, wouldn’t you? You have been nothing if not frank and honest in your dealings with me. I find I cannot fault you on any account. So you see, I trust you would not have kept so obvious an objection from me.”

“How quickly ye’ve changed,” he remarked absently. “Not a week past, I would not have been able to say with any clear dependability that ye found anything about me worthy of yer praise.”

“So you will agree that we must leave?” she pressed.

Thomas lowered his head back to her breast. “I can’t rightly think where we might go, so, for the present, we
will remain. There’s a shivoo tomorrow evening. We’ve been invited.”

“A party,” Aisleen murmured, thinking of the gown she had begun. With passing regret, she thought of the lace and lavender silk taffeta gown her mother had made for her. It was still in the cook wagon along with most of the rest of her belongings. She would need to make her needle fly to finish a new gown from the material she had purchased earlier in the day.

Thomas turned his head away. His greatest fear had come to pass. Aisleen abhorred the thought of sharing the company of convicts, even one who demonstrated by his industry that he was a useful member of society. She had not asked what Matt’s crime had been, had not voiced one word of sympathy for Sarah and her situation. Could she not see how much in love they were? No, she found their love shameful and tawdry because it was not sanctified by ceremony. What would happen when she learned the truth about his past? There was nothing she could do. They were wedded and bedded and…

He reached out a hand to span Aisleen’s flat stomach. Perhaps a child would soften her feelings. She liked bairns. She had expressed great interest in Sarah’s pregnancy. Aye, a bairn would soften the blow, if and when it came. Until he was certain that she was breeding, he would say nothing to her about himself.

His hand moved farther until the slight pebble-textured mark on her hip was under his fingers. He traced the shape of a perfect rosebud with his forefinger and smiled. His thorny rose-haired wife. Until she accepted herself, he could not tell her about himself. He wanted her love, completely and freely given.

* * *

The clearing was filled with dozens of men, women, and children. Laughter rippled across the night, rising and falling in counterpoint to the ebb and surge of voices. Punctuating the din were the barks of dogs. The aromas of roasting mutton, burning wood, and tobacco smoke misted the night air. Across the yard stood a huge open-ended barn, its interior lit by whale-oil lamps and candles. From the shed came the shrill whine of a bagpipe, the whistle of tin flutes, and the tattoo of a
bodhran
accompanying the lively sawing of an expert fiddler.

Aisleen smiled. The lilting, toe-tapping melody of the Irish jig was familiar. It had been many years since she had heard it, and the tune brought her a rush of pleasure.

Thomas jumped down from the Mahoneys’ trap and reached for her. “Come along, lass. Ye once promised me a dance. Tonight I will collect.”

“Oh, how I envy you,” Sarah said as Aisleen stepped down. “I’m afraid I must content myself with sitting on the sidelines.”

Aisleen smiled stiffly and said nothing.

Thomas stared at her in annoyance. She could not bring herself to be more than civil to the people who had housed her. With a prod of his hand, he forced her to start across the yard. “’Tis me hope that ye’ll nae find everything tonight to be beneath yer interest,” he said when they were out of earshot of their companions.

“I can’t think what you mean,” Aisleen replied, but she did know. She was behaving churlishly, but she could not help herself. Everything she had been taught rebelled against the scandalous behavior of their hosts. Why could Thomas not understand her reluctance to align herself with people who openly flouted the conventions of decency and propriety?

As they stepped up onto the hardwood floor of the shearing shed, he caught her elbow in a hard grip “There
may be a fair number here tonight of whom ye will nae be approving. If so, I’ll thank ye to keep the knowledge of it to yerself. These are me friends and I’ll nae have them insulted, even by me wife!”