Chapter Ten
The next afternoon, Juliana hurried to the library, anxious to begin the exploration Rafe had promised.
Her heart full, she allowed herself to feel a moment of pure happiness.
Her instincts had turned out to be correct; Rafe’s years with the army had not substantially changed the young man she’d grown up admiring, though he was definitely more commanding.
She thought uneasily of their dispute over the eventual trip to London, a matter of contention he had not addressed again and that she’d carefully avoided bringing up.
Pushing aside that worry, she reminded herself that, commanding as he might be, soldiering had not coarsened him or ground out of him the consideration he had always shown to those around him.
Rather, as he’d told her, his experiences with the hardships and horror of war had made him more appreciative of the blessing of living in England and his good fortune in owning productive land he could manage in peace.
Having seen the devastation wrought in other lands made him more determined to master his responsibilities and ensure this estate provided a good living for his family and for the farmers, crofters and sheep-herders who worked on it.
Now, he was going to give her access to the world of learning for which she’d always yearned. He had given her so much, it would be foolish to pine to possess a heart that was no longer his to give. She must keep firmly buried any fantasy of openly loving him or having him love her in return.
His friendship and esteem would be enough. And if she could give him a son, she would possess virtually everything she’d ever wished for and never believed she might have.
Compared to what she’d feared would be her destiny, buried at Aggie’s estate as a drudge attending upon her children, it would be churlish to long for more.
She’d just reached the door to the library when she heard footsteps behind her. She permitted herself one last swell of happiness before she reined in the emotion, damping it down before it could threaten her resolve.
Instead, she focused on the physical sensations tingling through her as her husband approached.
When he reached her, she leaned up to give him a lingering kiss.
He responded instantly, pulling her closer.
When, after a few delicious minutes, he ended the embrace, she traced his lips with her tongue, banking the desire coursing through her for later.
He groaned, touching her wet mouth with a fingertip as he as released her. ‘No more of that now, or I’ll forget my promise and carry you away to our chamber.’
‘You may carry me away after dinner with my blessing.’
‘I must force myself to wait then.’ He swept a hand towards the bookshelves. ‘Shall we go in? Where would you like to start?’
She walked in on his arm, a thrill running through her as she surveyed the large room walled with bookshelves reaching up to the high ceiling. ‘Section by section?’ Spreading her arms wide, she twirled in a circle. ‘It’s a place of wonders! What a marvelous gift you are allowing me to unwrap!’
Halting to see him grinning at her, she said, ‘You may find my enthusiasm amusing, but you can’t imagine the euphoria of being given access to what, for your whole life, has been denied you.
How could you? Allowed to attend school and university, able to study the whole realm of knowledge for as long as you wished, limited only by the time available and the depth of your interest. Then able to travel abroad and experience other lands, languages and cultures!
While I, like most women, have been restricted to hearth and home, free only to roam the nearby woods and fells, with even that freedom limited to such moments as I could borrow or steal. ’
His smile fading, he said, ‘You’re right.
Though when exams by the masters loomed, the “gift” of study sometimes seemed more a burden, and battle is an experience perhaps more horrifying than broadening, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have my movements and possibilities severely limited.
’ He shook his head at her. ‘Though I doubt there are many women who view their position in life as “restricted”.’
‘Perhaps not. Having been restricted, I’ve not had the opportunity to meet many females outside my own family. One of the few, my London friend, the late Lady Fallsham, certainly chafed at the limitations placed upon females. But enough of that. Show me the books. I cannot wait to get started!’
‘Let us begin, then. My father, like his father before him, had broad and eclectic tastes, but was rather haphazard about shelving his collections. Ian did us a service by organizing the books by subject, recording them in a ledger and grouping them on the shelves. Shall we start with literature?’
‘Yes. Perhaps something about naiads?’
Rafe chuckled. ‘That might be difficult unless you managed to learn Greek.’
She gave an exasperated huff. ‘I’ve a smattering of French and Italian, no more.’
‘I admit, my Greek is rudimentary as well. Only those at university who were looking to take holy orders were thoroughly schooled in it. Fortunately, although Papa obtained Greek originals, we have both William Cowper and Alexander Pope’s English translations of Homer’s Iliad, Pope’s version of The Odyssey and several volumes of John Dryden’s translations of Greek stories by Horace, Juvenal, Ovid and Theocritus.
In the latter’s works you’ll find stories about your water nymphs. ’
For the next forty minutes, Rafe led her to several groups of shelves.
After selecting Pope’s Iliad and Dryden’s tales by Theocritus, they continued to the area housing Scott’s epic tales of the Scottish Highlands and Ann Radcliffe’s Mysteries of Udolpho.
Juliana added to the stack several volumes by contemporary poets Cowper, Blake, Shelley and a Lake District neighbour, Wordsworth.
Rafe ended their tour of literature by offering her Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, a poet and a work so notorious even Juliana had heard of it.
She tucked the volume under her arm with a mischievous chuckle. ‘I remember Aggie and her friends discussing Byron in hushed tones. Mama would suffer palpitations if she knew I’d even touched a work by the man.’
‘To finish up, let me show you our small collection of volumes that deal with the natural world. A first edition as well as reprints of Hill’s The Gardener’s Labyrinth, which gives advice on the timing of cultivation and about the medicinal benefits of plants, herbs and flowers.
I think you’ll appreciate the excellent illustrations. ’
He opened the volume, showing her a drawing of a gardener hard at work in a formal flower border. Instantly eager to study the artist’s sketch for techniques she might incorporate into her own work, she said, ‘Oh, yes, I must have that one!’
‘Not much has been published about mammals, but we have Edward Donovan’s volumes on birds, insects and fish,’ Rafe continued, moving down the bookshelf.
‘And here are several I think you will particularly like: George Edwards’s Natural History of Uncommon Birds and, best of all, Bewick’s History of British Birds, the work I told you about. Bewick bears closer inspection.’
Pulling out the two-volume set, he led her to the sofa before the fireplace. ‘Bewick not only created marvelous woodcuts that faithfully represented the birds, he also ended each section with little illustrations of everyday life that I think you’ll find especially interesting and amusing.’
‘Show me!’ Juliana said, even more intrigued by this description than by his praise of Hill’s illustrations.
Rafe seated himself beside her and opened the first book.
‘At first, it seems to be just a sketch of a commonplace activity, a woman hanging out washing. But look more closely, and you’ll notice in the foreground a chicken walking over one of the freshly laundered shirts, leaving muddy claw prints behind. ’
He started to flip the page, but she halted him, wanting to study the woodcut more closely. ‘Marvelous! Show me more.’
‘How about this one,’ he said, flipping a few pages farther. ‘A fine image of the yellow wagtail, but in the distance, a man plowing. Or this—a hunter retrieving from the water the duck he’s downed. Or this one—boys sailing their boats on a river.’
‘They are all wonderful!’ she breathed, as impressed as she was excited to study them more closely. ‘Let me take the Bewick volumes, too.’
The sudden thought occurring, she said, ‘You said that literature and book collecting were Ian’s great loves. But you must have spent a great deal of time browsing the collection, to know it as well as you do.’
Rafe’s face colored. ‘Humbling as it is to confess to one so eager for learning, I was never much of a scholar. Well, you’ll remember how ready I always was to escape my tutor and go off adventuring in the woods!
However, knowing I would be bringing you here, I did a quick review of the ledgers Ian compiled detailing the collection’s contents, so I might point out the volumes I thought would be of most interest to you. ’
He’d taken the time and trouble to research the collection—for her. Touched, she said, ‘That was so kind. Thank you.’
He looked as if he might say something…tender in return? But even as her heart quickened with hope, he gave her a jaunty grin. ‘You’ve accumulated quite a stack! Perhaps I erred bringing you here. You may become so lost in study, you will forget about me entirely.’