Chapter 35 Pleasures of the Flesh #2
His jaw clenched and released. He finished his tea and continued, “I found them there together. My father held her in his arms, pressed up against the parapet, his lips at her throat.”
Maybe I should have seen where this was leading, but I hadn’t. “Oh, Harker. What a shock that must have been.”
He nodded slowly. “Though by then I was nearly twenty-one, my isolation had stunted me in some ways. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.
It seemed . . .” He rubbed his lips together.
“I thought it was lovemaking. And that was bad enough, after her rejection of me. But there was blood, too. It confused me. Shattered me. I fled back down to the heath.”
He was quiet for a while, and I waited, unwilling to push him. Even after decades, his hurt was still so raw. It’s the not knowing what happened to her.
Finally, he looked up, his expression flat but for a thin smile. “That same day, I smashed my violin as if I were a jilted lover. Soon after that the change took me, and I never saw her again.”
Carefully I asked, “Your father told you he sent her away to protect her from you?”
“He did.”
I knew his doubts. I knew his fears. But after so many years, he would likely never know the truth of what had happened. Dwelling on it would only deepen his hurt. Gently I said, “It would make sense for him to do so.”
He looked down. “I think the worst of it is that our eyes met on the parapet. Ruby knew I’d seen them. I was too angry to take any notice of this at the time, but it was clear from her expression how it pained her.”
“I’m so sorry, Harker.”
“You are kind to be sorry for me, but it’s not why I told you. So many of my regrets about who and what I am, as well as my anger about the life I’ve had to live, are tied up in Ruby’s story.”
“I can see why. I’m grateful to you for telling me.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a sigh. “I’m sick to death of my own melancholy and self-loathing, but I don’t know how to leave them behind. And I fear they may make me very hard to live with.”
I folded my arms on the table, leaning toward him. “For your own sake, I hope you may leave them behind. But you are dear to me as you are, Harker.”
His brow smoothed as his gaze lifted. There was something soft and wondering in his eyes.
Afraid I’d said too much, I looked away, my gaze coming to rest on Da’s fiddle. “Will you tell me what you were playing last night? I’ve never heard music like that.”
“A sonata by a German composer named Bach,” he said quietly. “I imagine it’s more formal than what your father played. Bach was a composer at court.”
I smiled. “You are very good at talking about the differences in our backgrounds without making me feel small and poor.”
His brows lifted. “Probably because I don’t think of you as either.”
This kind reply, given easily and without forethought, made me wish he were sitting closer, so that I might touch him.
“Did you and Jack learn to play?” he asked.
I shook my head. “My parents thought it unseemly for a girl, and Jack hadn’t the patience for it.”
“Would you like to learn? I could teach you.”
Imagining fiddle lessons would likely involve close brushes of fingers and arms, I said, “I’d like that. Though I wouldn’t like to cause you pain.”
His gaze drifted to the instrument. “I think it’s more likely to relieve pain.
Last night I realized how much I miss playing.
” His eyes came back to my face. “We shall have no shortage of time for it. And if we play together, and cook for each other, maybe read to each other sometimes, there will at least be some sensual pleasures we may enjoy as husband and wife.”
All but choking on my last mouthful of tea, I dropped my eyes again.
One Sunday after church, I’d asked my mother what “pleasures of the flesh” meant.
She went red and told me I was too young to be asking such questions, and we never talked about it again.
As I grew older and watched my parents more closely, I noticed that sometimes my father made my mother blush, and those moments became connected in my mind with the priest’s mysterious phrase.
I came to understand that “pleasures of the flesh” referred to something married people were allowed to do—and later, that it had to do with how babies were made.
As Harker’s “sensual pleasures” and the priest’s “pleasures of the flesh” knit themselves together in my mind, I thought it wasn’t very likely that music lessons or cooking were going to serve as satisfying replacements.
“Regrets, love?”
My breath caught. Love.
He stood up and came around the table. I rose to meet him.
He stopped an arm’s length away, and with my heart flailing, I reached out and clumsily caught the ruffled front of his shirt in my fingers, giving it a tug. He laughed and stepped forward, hands coming to my waist.
“Mina,” he uttered softly into my hair.
I pressed my cheek to his chest, but then I felt his fingers in my hair and at the back of my neck. He cradled my head and gently moved it so that he could look at me.
I thought he was going to speak, but then his mouth was on mine. Pressing firmly. Insisting. Lips opening, tongue sweeping inside as something very like a whimper escaped my throat.
Then he pulled back, again looking into my eyes. “You’ve had a taste of what it will be like,” he said, voice low and breathless. “There is yet time to make a different choice.”
I raised my hands, closing them over his wrists. “Harker—”
“Jack is free. And no one but him and our enemy know of the vows we’ve taken. No one knows we’ve spent a night together.”
“No, Harker,” I protested over the heat and pressure in my throat.
His face came closer still. “This fire between us will only burn hotter, Mina. Denying ourselves won’t make it go out. It doesn’t work that way. You understand that?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “I’ll do better. I’ll stay back.”
His arms came around me, and he let out a desperate laugh. “It’s not you. It’s us. What we’re attempting goes against nature. And the penalty for failure is a higher one than I am willing to pay.”
I drew back and looked at him. “Do you wish to be released?” The words burned like coals in my chest.
His hand came to my face. “I could more easily release my own heart.”
Ribbons of warmth unspooled in my belly. He kissed me again, with tenderness this time. Then he said, “Let us go to Father Kelly. When we are bound in the eyes of God and the law, we’ll see what can be done.”
I frowned, not following.
“I will do nothing that carries even the slightest risk of creating a child,” he continued. “But there are other ways of giving and receiving pleasure that, if we are cautious and mindful of my thirst, we may be able to attempt. If you wish it.”
My heart burst into flame. Whatever he saw in my face made him laugh again and pull me against his chest.
We stood there long moments, breathing each other in, feeling the way our bodies fit together. I felt his hands on my back, at my waist, dipping to my hips. Then at last he released me, sighing as he began gathering our teacups and barely touched bowls of porridge from the table.
I took the stack from him and put it in the washbasin, where I intended to leave it until today’s business was finished. How could I turn my thoughts to anything practical after But there are other ways of giving and receiving pleasure?
When Harker came back with the teapot, I removed the lid out of habit to empty it.
At its bottom, the leaves formed a rose.