Chapter Seventeen
It had been so heavenly.
Now, waking in his arms, Augusta wondered how any couples ever managed to leave the bliss of the marriage bed once they’d experienced it.
Certainly she would have to, eventually.
There would be letters to be written to Doctor Pinkton.
She needed to update him on her now-married status, and inform him that she would need some time off from their secret outings.
She would have to write to Ginny as well, and inform her of how wonderful the night had been - though she’d already decided that she would be modest in her descriptors of the events.
It felt good to have something private between herself and Sebastian.
It was most private to awaken with his body pressed against hers. Nothing separated them, so that Augusta struggled to know precisely where her body ended and his began. She did not know how much she believed in souls, but in that moment, she could easily be persuaded in favor of them.
Small bits of daylight crept past the edges of the chamber’s heavy drapes, but the room remained largely darkened. Should they choose to, they could remain in here all day, pretending that the wedding night had never turned to morning.
“You are thinking a great deal,” came Sebastian’s amused voice in her ear.
“I was simply thinking about how lovely things are,” she replied, surprised by the dreaminess in her own voice.
“They are, are they not?”
Rolling in his arms, she turned to face him. Even in the dark, she could see the handsome cut of his jaw and the piercing color of his eyes.
“Did you ever believe that marriage could be so blissful?” she asked, self-conscious even as she did so. Surely her husband did not want to be asked questions during his peaceful morning, but she simply had to know what was occurring in his mind.
He took some time to think on her question before answering, a trait that she greatly admired (then again, she admired all things about her husband right then.)
“I don’t know,” he said after a while. “My parents were not particularly happy. They were certainly not in love. I don’t know if I even knew that married people could be in love until I was much older. I assumed that a husband and wife were supposed to hate each other.”
Augusta looked down at her hand, which was splayed across his chest, just above his heart.
“I understand,” she said finally, resolving to be as open and honest with him and he had been with her.
“I know it is wrong to speak ill of the dead, but Mother and Father were not the living examples of divine love that many made them out to be. Father had mistresses. Toward the end, he became far less discreet, and I know that Mother was crushed by it. I don’t believe they truly hated one another, but neither did they understand one another.
There was not much real love, and there was even less respect and admiration. ”
“I didn’t realize,” Sebastian said quietly.
“It is quite alright. I don’t believe many people did.” She paused, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes again. “I am sorry that you did not know the love that you deserved.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I could say the same for you.”
She smiled sadly at that, then told herself to shape up. She would not be the dour bride today. “Well, I always had Reginald. He truly has only ever wanted the best for me. I suppose that is more than most women get in this world.”
Something in Sebastian’s expression slipped before he composed himself again. “Well, regardless, I am glad that we have found one another. Now both of us may write a new story for our own children.”
Augusta debated saying what she said next, before deciding that Sebastian and her would both benefit from it.
“Well, if that is to be the case, we must make haste in creating them.”
Sebastian eagerly agreed.
*****
Augusta’s new husband took her to more musicales in the following weeks than she had been to in nearly her entire life. She’d known that Sebastian enjoyed losing himself in music, but she had not realized how devoted he was to the pursuit of it until now.
As she sat next to him in their usual box, violins trilling through the air while stars practically danced in Sebastian’s eyes, she once again felt that pang of shame that had lingered ever since their wedding.
Here her husband was sharing his love with her, while she still held back the most private, fundamental part of her own passions.
They had now been married for six weeks, during which time she had absolved herself of her sins in order to enjoy the honeymoon. Now, though, she felt the clock ticking. She would have to tell him. Sooner rather than later.
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. She forced herself to push it to the back of her mind, assuring herself that she would do it quite soon, but not right now. It was simply not the right time at this moment. Eventually, all would be known.
Applause brought her back to the present. She realized that they had reached an intermission.
“What did you think?” Sebastian asked, his eyes sparkling in that way they always did when he’d just been carried away by a symphony.
“It was lovely,” Augusta replied, putting her full effort into sounding as enthralled by it as he had been. Perhaps she did not have a great love for music, but her husband did. She found that whatever he adored, she adored by proxy.
Would he feel the same? When the time came?
She shook the thought away. “Is it everything you wanted, dear?”
He nodded, that shine in his expression never wavering. “Yes, and more. I was told that the conductor was exceptional, but seeing it in person is another experience entirely.”
He went on to tell her more about the reasons why this particular orchestra was so wonderful. Augusta attempted to listen, but instead got lost in Sebastian’s handsome, happy face.
She wanted to kiss him. Therefore, as soon as he finished one sentence and paused to inhale for another, she used the break to lean over and close the space between them. He halted, his surprise putting a stop to whatever thought had previously been rushing through his mind.
When she pulled away, it was her turn to be surprised; Sebastian, always so composed and confident, stammered for a moment. A silly ‘erm’ emanated from him, the sound of a man who no longer had thoughts in his head.
“Sorry-” Augusta started to say, laughing a bit, only to be cut off by him in an instant.
“I love you,” he said, his voice dreamy.
Why did it feel as though it were the first time he’d ever said it?
Surely, she’d heard it…at some point, hadn’t she?
He’d said so many lovely things to her, had made his affection so clear.
And yet, when she thought back, she could not recall a specific instance of him actually saying those words in that exact order to her.
She smiled, and it would have taken a great tragedy indeed to wrench said smile from her face.
“I love you, too,” she replied. It was absolutely not the first time she’d said those words.
But right then, with the intermission ending, and her husband looking at her with that same glittering in his eyes, it did not occur to her to think too hard upon it.
And several hours later, in their bedroom, she had far too many other things to occupy her mind. Namely, the letter in her hands, written by Dr. Pinkton in reply to her own letter in which she had told him about her nuptials.
Behind her, on the bed, Sebastian slept soundly. Even the light snoring in his inhales and exhales was amenable to Augusta, a kind of music that played as she read through Pinkton’s words.
I would like to congratulate you on your marriage.
It may be too soon (and in poor taste) to ask, but I thought you ought to know that The Society of Women in Medicine is having a very private dinner this coming Wednesday evening.
You are invited. It would be an excellent chance to meet the rabble-rousers face-to-face.
Augusta nearly laughed at the cheekiness of his last line. At one time, it might have angered her, but it seemed all she had time for these days was mirth. Checking over her shoulder to ensure that Sebastian was still asleep, she wrote back immediately.
It is in poor taste, as you predicted. However, I am so well-bred a lady that I shall still accept your invitation. Should I see one single brick or smell even the hint of fire, however, I shall vacate the premises immediately.
In all seriousness, Doctor, please expect nothing to come from this acceptance.
I still have not made my decision, but I am very much of the mind to remain distant from the Society.
Speaking on their behalf is less and less appealing with each passing day.
I now have the reputation of not only myself, but my husband to consider.
In the following days, she did not receive a reply to that letter. She’d known she wouldn’t. But when Wednesday arrived, she put on a fine gown, had Milly do up her hair, and told her husband a bold-faced lie.
“I will be dining with Ginny,” she said, surprised that she did not stumble over her words.
And her husband - her wonderful, trusting husband - believed her. Without missing a beat, he called a carriage for her departure.
She thought about that lie the entire ride to the dinner.
It was held in a townhome not so far from Bond Street. Augusta asked the footman to drop her off at the back entrance, near a small courtyard.
“You may leave me here,” she told the man. Then, producing some coins from her purse and handing them to him, she added, “And perhaps we keep this location between ourselves, yes?”
The footman took her coins and offered a nod of acceptance, the same one that she had received from Milly many a time.
Having anticipated her clandestine entrance choice, Dr. Pinkton met her at the rose bushes at the back of the home.
“I see we’ve collected an escapee,” he said.