Chapter 9
Nine
Catherine thought it unfortunate that Lady Huxley and her daughter should have been passing in a barouche just when Harry stepped out of Thomas’ rooms. It was even more unfortunate one of Lady Huxley’s footmen suddenly became eager to spread the scandalous and rather grotesque story of two guests who had mysteriously disappeared for hours at Lady Huxley’s ball and then reappeared, both covered in blood.
Behind closed doors, the gentlemen of the ton discussed those they knew who enjoyed making urine with their coupling—could blood be the new flavor of the erotically unspeakable?
And, finally, it was most unfortunate Thomas was well-known to be an insatiable libertine.
However, as Harry said to Catherine, it put paid to any possible hindrance to their wedding. They were now committed, and why not? She and Thomas had made the contract already.
Initially, there was a great deal of shouting by Catherine. Harry sat through it dispassionately and then said, “You said no. I said yes. It’s that simple.” Of course, it wasn’t that simple, but Harry didn’t budge.
Catherine won only one argument. No special license. There would be three weeks of banns. Harry fussed. Thomas shrugged when Catherine told him and said his creditors would be reassured by the impending marriage.
Three weeks. Catherine turned all her energies to persuading Harry. She coaxed and threatened and pleaded, all to no avail. Harry would go into her room, lock the door, and ignore Catherine’s knocks.
As part of a last desperate effort, Catherine planned two conversations. She anticipated the one with Thomas would be easy. She knew the one with Harry would be difficult.
Three days before the wedding, Catherine asked Thomas to call on her the following day. It was a matter of a detail in the transfer of funds, she wrote. It must be cleared up before the wedding. Would he come?
Catherine told her butler Chelsom she was not at home to anyone else.
As she had requested, Lord Drake came at ten o’clock the next morning, a time she knew Harry was unlikely to be out of her room.
And Harry never looked down out of her window at the street to see arriving carriages and visitors. She only looked out at the sky.
Catherine made sure the door to the drawing room was firmly closed and no one was hidden behind the curtains.
“Let me allay your concerns, my lord. There is no difficulty with the funds.” Her voice was cold. “Your banker will receive the monies once the wedding occurs. But I must speak to you of Harriet.”
Thomas interrupted. “And I must speak to you as well. I want you to know I have done nothing improper with your stepdaughter. I understand my reputation. I understand it must seem unlikely nothing untoward has occurred. I am going to marry her as I have promised her, but I felt you should know she is wholly unspoiled.”
“I know my stepdaughter. I know Harry. I know she is unspoiled.”
“Good, so she’s told you.” Thomas smiled in relief.
“No, she has told me nothing. Except you are to marry. When I asked her why, she said she was tired of balls. And since I know Harry, I know that is the truth. I offered that she might not go to balls any longer and stay unmarried. She then worried for Arabella, which I thought was very good of her.”
“Arabella?”
“Yes, Harry was worried her sister might never receive an offer of marriage since Harry had been seen coming from your rooms. I reassured her and told her Arabella’s dowry would still attract suitors. And then Harry said she had already given you her word.”
“And I have given her my word, too.”
“But I have not agreed to this marriage,” Catherine said through clenched teeth. “You are not the man I would want for Harry.”
“Harriet does not need your consent, Mrs. Lovelock.”
“She is a child, Lord Drake. I know you must know this. One can’t spend fifteen minutes with her without noticing it.”
“She is twenty-three. She is of age. She seems to know a great deal of certain things and nothing of others. But is that not the way with all young ladies? Certainly, she has read more books than you or I or anyone I know. Or maybe more than all of us put together.”
“But Harry’s mind—”
“She’s not mad, is she?”
Catherine considered lying. Finally, she shook her head. “No.”
“So we will be married. It may not be the kind of marriage you had with your husband, but it will be Harry’s marriage.”
“Lord Drake, I warn you there has never been such a child as Harry in the history of the world. At least, none I have heard of. Yes, there is the mind that captures everything with absolute accuracy and with lightning speed. But then, with it, the rages and the tempers and the frustrations that cannot be managed. The inability to understand the most basic human interchanges, the failure to read a face or a mood or an emotion of even a beloved sister or a father. I have had the training of her, you see. Far beyond the training most young ladies require. I have trained her to create a facsimile of the behavior of others. I have taught her how to act, in essence, like a normal woman. To sit. To speak. To smile. Her differences go far beyond anything you may have witnessed in your brief time knowing her. She is an aberration.”
Thomas bristled as he spoke. “I find her frank, and, yes, startling at times. But she is not some inhuman creature, Mrs. Lovelock.”
“I love Harry.” Catherine’s voice was steely. “And Harry loves me. She has never said so, but she does. I don’t know why she is so set on marrying a degenerate like you, but I know she loves me more than she will ever love you.”
Thomas held up his hands. “I have no expectation of love from your stepdaughter, Mrs. Lovelock. Nor she from me, I assure you. She asked me for something. I promised it to her. And she promised to marry me for it. That is all. Good day, Mrs. Lovelock.” He moved towards the door.
“And what was that, Lord Drake? What did Harry ask of you? What could a debauched man like you—an animal—possibly give her?” Catherine spat her words.
“Time.” He bowed and left the drawing room.
When Harry emerged from her room to seek coffee that afternoon, her stepmother was waiting in the passage. She asked Harry to come with her, and Harry complied.
Catherine took Harry to her own pretty boudoir and asked her lady’s maid Wright to bring coffee. While Harry was pouring out a cup, Catherine opened one of her bureaus and took out a nightdress trimmed with something she said was Valenciennes lace.
“Isn’t this lovely, Harry?”
Harry shrugged politely. If she could get through tomorrow and the day after without too much fuss, she would be in the clear. But Mama Katie always said there was no harm in being courteous.
“I’d like you to have this, Harry. I had one made with the same lace for your sister Mary for her wedding night.”
Harry took the nightdress. She was confused. Surely, the wedding dress was what was important. Arabella certainly thought so.
“As you know, Harry, I grew up on a farm and since there were so many animals, I quickly learned about bulls and cows and stallions and mares and sires and dams and boars and sows.”
Harry grew quite dizzy with the number of animals her stepmother was listing. She had a sudden thought. “Does this have anything to do with Lord Drake’s bull looking for cows when he should be looking for a tree?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Catherine swallowed.
“And this is difficult because I don’t remember anyone ever having this particular conversation with me when I was young, and by the time I was your age, I had been on the stage for so long and had already suffered so many indignities .
. .” Catherine trailed off, her voice choking.
Harry felt a bit of pride that she could recognize her stepmother’s upset. She patted her on her knee. “Oh, Mama Katie, don’t think about those bad times and those bad men. Papa found you and protected you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did, Harry.” Catherine smiled.
“Well, Lord Drake will make sure I don’t run across any bad men, I assure you. I don’t think he is a very good shot, but I understand he is a skilled boxer.”
“Harry,” Catherine said slowly, “do you know some might consider Lord Drake a bad man? Not evil, but not what a husband should be?”
Harry looked at the ceiling and reviewed what she knew of her future husband. “Lord Drake? No, that is surely a mistake.”
“Do you understand why everyone thinks you have to marry him?”
“Because I was in his rooms alone with him? Or because we slept together?”
“Harry!”
She looked at Catherine’s face. “Yes, didn’t I tell you? At Lady Huxley’s ball, we fell asleep on the same sofa. The room was dark, and I thought his leg was just a superior sort of pillow. He didn’t snore at all. And in the morning, I was so startled, I gave him a bloody nose.”
“Yes, the blood. A story which has now run rampant around the ton. So you two slept in the same room?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing else happened?”
Was her stepmother deaf? “Yes, I told you, I gave him a bloody nose. With the top of my head. Then I held his nose. Then he laughed at me.”
“Harry, do you understand how people come to have children?”
“They get married. Oh, no, that’s right, you can be married and have no children, and you can have children and not be married. I think the first one is better, don’t you?”
“There is an act that women and men perform together so the woman will bear a child.”
“Oh, yes, don’t worry, there will be none of that.”
Catherine blinked several times.
“I discussed it with Lord Drake, Mama Katie. It’s part of our arrangement. No kissing and no children.”
Harry put her coffee cup to her lips and drank. There was a long pause, and Catherine appeared to be searching for words.
Harry swallowed her coffee and spoke first. “And no fucking either, of course.”
“Harry!”
“Oh, yes, I’m not to use that word. It seems a perfectly good, even euphonious, word to me, but his lordship has forbidden it. He said perhaps the word coupling might be better or fornicating.”
“So you do know about coupling?”
“I’ve read some books that might not have met with your approval.
I didn’t understand everything I read, but I think I understood enough.
I only wish there had been some illustrations.
And I listen to people talk. I have very good hearing.
It seems like many people like fu—fornicating very much, but I don’t think it would be to my taste.
You know I often get very irritated about touching.
” Harry shivered in disgust. “I explained that to Lord Drake after he answered my questions about his phallus. He is amenable to a chaste marriage.” Harry looked at her stepmother’s face to make sure she understood.
“And I know he has other means of obtaining partners for fornication.”
“Does that bother you, Harry?”
“Why should his whoring bother me? I’m sure he has a cook.
That doesn’t bother me. I’m sure he has a tailor.
That doesn’t bother me. I’m grateful I am not making his soup and sewing his shirts.
And he would be, too, if only he knew how little I care for food and how useless I am with a needle.
By extension, I am also grateful I will not be the one fu—tending to his phallus. ”
“Harry, Harry, Harry.” Catherine smiled, but the smile looked strained. “I thank you for not using that word.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s a bodily function, isn’t it?
Like going to the privy. I’m just glad I have no need for that kind of evacuation.
It seems to absorb a great deal of time and energy for men.
” She had a hopeful thought. “Perhaps that will give me the advantage in proving the conjecture.” Harry touched the top of her stepmother’s hand.
“Now, my mind is firm, Mama Katie. And you know I am stubborn.”
Harry had become the unstoppable force.
“I hope you know I love you. And I wish you happiness, my darling girl,” Catherine said after a long pause.
Harry gulped the last bit of her coffee and stood. “Is this interruption at an end? I have so much to do.”
She made for her room as quickly as she could and stayed there long into the night.