Beloved Enemy (70 page)

Everywhere
he turned, Alex saw only the thorny thicket of an impossible dilemma. There was
only one sensible answer for the rational man. He must leave her and go home.
But he did not think he was a rational man any longer.

Chapter
27

Ginny
woke at dawn steadfastly determined that nothing was going to keep her from the
party. The birds were greeting the new day in ecstatic chorus, and she ran downstairs,
out into the dewy morning, barefoot, shivering slightly in the early chill. An
autumnal mist rose from the creek and marsh, but there was nothing to indicate
that the mellow warmth of this October was at an end. The sun was a red, hazy
ball low in the sky, promising a clear day.

She
fed the chickens, watered the horses, and put them to graze. In Lizzy's
absence, she had to milk the two cows, but none of these tasks seemed
particularly arduous this morning, and she was humming cheerfully as she dragged
the tin bathtub into the kitchen and filled it with steaming water from the
cauldron hanging on the arm over the fire. Before getting into the tub, she
took the bucket to the well in order to refill the cauldron, struggling beneath
its filled weight as she set it upon the arm again and swung it over the fire
to heat up should she need more.

There
was no sound from upstairs, Giles being still deeply asleep, and Ginny pulled
her shift over her head and slid into the tub, dipping backward to wet her hair
before washing it. Today, for the first time since leaving Alex at Preston, she
was going to wear the turquoise gown with the quilted taffeta petticoat that
she had made herself last month. She would wear the tortoiseshell combs in her
hair, and her prunella shoes with the rosettes.

The
creak on the stairs interrupted these pleasant musings, and she sat up in the
water, drawing her knees up, crossing her arms over her breasts in a defensive
reflex. Giles stepped down into the kitchen, blinking blearily, then his eyes
fell upon her, sitting in the tub, her wet hair hanging down her back, her
creamy shoulders bare.

"Well,
well," he said slowly, crossing the room toward her. "Who are you
making yourself beautiful for, wife of mine?"

"I
was just taking a long-overdue bath," Ginny said, trying to keep the
tremor from her voice as Giles knelt down by the tub. "If you would care
to bathe, there is fresh water on the fire. I will just—"

"Why
so anxious?" he said, taking her hands and uncrossing them. "It is
your husband, remember, who wishes to look at you. Am I not entitled to do
so?"

Ginny
could feel the shudders of revulsion creeping up her back. Then his hand cupped
one breast, and she thought she would scream, except that his mouth came down
on hers, stifling all sounds. He never kissed her, had never taken a leisurely
interest in her body before. He was interested only in the act of coition, and
his consistent failure to perform that act brought down vicious accusations
upon her head. She twisted her head, but he caught the wet mane on her
shoulders and held her head still as his tongue pushed into her mouth, rough
and inexpert, his fingers squeezing her nipples hurtfully, although she sensed
that he did not intend to inflict pain; he just did not think in terms of her
comfort, as was usual with him.

"No
. . . please . . ." she heard herself beg and knew it to be a mistake.

Giles
drew back from her, his face darkening. "What is the matter? Is this not
what you are accustomed to with your paramour? Will you deny your husband what
you give so freely elsewhere?"

"Giles,
do not talk like that," she pleaded desperately now. "It is only that
you surprised me, and it is early in the morning . . . but . . . but we must
make haste if we are to reach the Harringtons' before the other guests."
She could hear her babble and despised herself for it, but if he was going to
insist on her cooperation, here and now, she did not know how she would bear it
in silence.

"There
is time," he said, pulling her upright. "Dry yourself and come
upstairs. I am in need."

She
could not refuse him, not without making matters between them completely
intolerable. She could not afford to give him yet further ammunition for his
jealous accusations that her own needs were gratified elsewhere. Ginny knew
that he did not believe in his accusations, that they were made simply to wound
her, but it would not take much. So she lay like a stone, while drink and ill
health took their invariable toll of Giles and, as always, he was left
frustrated and angry, insisting that it was her fault because she was as cold
as ice and enough to dampen any man's ardor.

They
went to Harrington Hundred, although Giles deliberately took his time getting
ready, knowing that Ginny was anxious to arrive early in order to help Susannah.
If his mood had been less ugly, she would have insisted upon going ahead in the
canoe, leaving him to follow either in the rowboat or by the longer land route
on horseback. But in truth, she was beginning to be a little afraid of him,
sensing that drink and bitterness were eroding the civilized restraints that
had previously operated, however petulant and irritable he could be.

Once
at Harringtons', Ginny was able to leave him immediately and without remark.
Robert, stiffly welcoming, took him up to the house while Ginny went in search
of Susannah and thus missed the meeting between Alexander Marshall and Giles
Courtney.

Alex
saw a rather thin man of middle height, with pale blue eyes and the waxen hue
of ill health. He was dressed richly and with care as befitting a landed
gentleman, in a doublet of dove gray with a soft ruff, gray silk stockings, and
a sleeved cloak. His sombrero hat bore a lavish plume. His hands were soft and
white, and Alex thought of Ginny's brown, square-nailed competent hands that
would turn themselves to any task however hard or demeaning.

Giles
saw a tall, broad-shouldered individual with clear green-brown eyes that
regarded him with unnerving closeness. An aura of assertion, of one accustomed
to authority, clung to him and he was dressed neatly, but with little regard
for prevailing fashion or consequence, in plain doublet and britches. Hatless,
the cropped auburn head was held high, and the cultured voice was soft with an
underlying crispness that caused Giles to feel unaccountably uneasy. The
feeling irritated him, and he accepted a glass of peach brandy from Robert with
a degree of relief.

Excited
shrieks from the children outside indicated new arrivals, and Robert, escorting
his guest of honor, went down to the landing stage to greet them. Throughout
the morning, boats came to the landing stage, discharged their passengers, and
were tied up further along the waterfront. A few guests arrived on horseback,
but they were close neighbors with easy access to the few bridle paths. Servants
bustled among the guests gathered in the garden above the river, bearing trays
of refreshments, threading their way through the tables laid ready for the
banquet that would start at two o'clock. A group of musicians tuned their
fiddles in preparation for the dancing that would take place later in the
afternoon.

Ginny
insisted that Susannah go among her guests while she remained in the kitchen
and around the house supervising the final details. Ginny was more than happy
to remain in the background, for the moment unable to contemplate with
equanimity the prospect of seeing her lover and her husband together in such
close quarters. The contrast would be like a hammer blow, and for some perverse
reason, her pride rebelled at the thought of seeing the contempt in Alex's eyes
when he saw her husband, as surely he would, at his worst. But she could not
evade her social responsibilities when the gathering sat down under the trees,
and Ginny was called to the Harringtons' table, obliged to sit beside her
husband and opposite General Marshall.

Alex,
seeing the strain in the gray eyes that she barely raised when she murmured a
greeting, did his best to keep the conversation general and light so that her
unusually silent manner would not be too noticeable. Giles remarked upon it,
though, and demanded in a loud voice to know if the cat had got her tongue.
Susannah instantly began to fuss, asking if she felt quite well, if the sun was
too hot, if her head ached, saying that it would be no wonder, so hard had she
been working all morning, while she, Susannah, had been making merry.

"Pray,
Susannah, do not mention it," Ginny begged. "I am feeling perfectly
well." She took a large mouthful of oyster stuffing as if to emphasize
this fact and choked, causing an even greater disturbance that left her
red-faced and mortified and absolutely the center of attention.

Alex
ached for her, ached to scoop her up and take her away into the quiet. Instead
he reached across the table to fill her tankard with water from the pitcher, a
service her husband had conspicuously failed to perform. She thanked him with a
rather fragile smile, and he fixed her with a hard look that contained none of
his sympathy but told her very firmly to take a grip upon herself. It was a
message for which Ginny was instantly grateful, recognizing that she had been
about to lapse into a self-pitying melancholy that would only draw unwelcome
comment. She drank deep of the cold water as the coughing spasm abated, then
made some apologetic joke about her immoderate appetite that had led her into
disgrace, and the moment was over. Conversation became general again, and she
took her part, indulging freely in the claret that flowed lavishly. It took the
edge off the host of disturbing emotions plaguing her which was well worth any
unpleasant aftereffects on the morrow.

She
was certainly not alone in this indulgence, and if her eyes became a little too
bright, her laugh a little brittle, her step a little unsteady, there was no
one to single her out since almost everyone was in similar condition. Except
for Alex who could not stop himself from watching her and could only hope that
no one noticed his attention. When the dancing began, he took advantage of the
unimpeachable excuse to be close to her during a galliard.

"I
do not like to tell you this, sweetheart, but you have had enough claret for
one day. Promise me you will take no more. You will not be able to paddle that
canoe straight."

"Then
I will swim," Ginny replied with a chuckle. "It will sober me up in
no time."

"If
we were alone, I would sober you," he said in some exasperation, stepping
back as she whirled away from him down the dance.

"Why,
General, for a soldier you are a most proficient dancer," a young woman
giggled, swimming into his field of vision and reminding him that he had duties
other than keeping a weather eye on Virginia Courtney.

"You
flatter me, madam," he replied, taking her hand as she twirled under his
arm. "But the musicians have much skill and energy."

"Indeed,
dancing is quite our favorite pastime, sir," his new partner said.
"You do not disapprove, I trust."

"Not
at all," he replied somewhat absently.

"Well,
we understand that it is now frowned upon most severely at home."

"By
some," he agreed, and as she disappeared down the set, he took the
opportunity to leave the dance.

"How
do you find our entertainments, Alex?" Robert inquired jovially. "A
little unsophisticated for a Londoner, I’ll be bound, but we do our best."

Alex
hastened to assure him that he found the entertainment far from
unsophisticated.

"Come
now, General," Giles remonstrated, lifting his head from his tankard, his
speech slightly slurred. "There's no need to be mealy-mouthed. We're well
aware of our shortcomings, ye know."

Ginny
appeared, breathless from the dance, just in time to hear this remark. She saw
that telltale muscle twitch in Alex's cheek and jumped without thought into the
ring. "That is hardly polite, Giles. I am sure the general meant what he
said."

"I
do not need
you
to take me to task, Madam Wife," Giles declared,
glaring at her. "I've told you before to put a bridle on that scold's
tongue."

Alex
went as white as Ginny went crimson. "Come now," Robert broke in
hastily. "No squabbling between man and wife. This is a party. I'm sure
Giles meant no offense."

"I
find him offensive," Ginny said very quietly and turned on her heel,
making her way through the gathering up to the house.

Giles
gave vent to a violent expletive and lurched from the bench. Robert put his
hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down. "Easy now, Cousin. I'll have
no trouble in my house. If you've a quarrel with your wife, take it up at
home."

Alex
muttered something incomprehensible and strode off, his disgust apparent in
every muscle of his back. How dared that drunken sot speak to Ginny in that
fashion, particularly so publicly! And of course she would not stand meekly by
and accept it. It was not her way, as he knew so well. But Alex, too, sensed
the fraying of the civilized constraints that bound Giles to convention, and he
knew with absolute certainty that it was more than unwise of Ginny to provoke
her husband as she had done. And there was not a damn thing he could do about
it!

He saw
her across the garden, sitting with a group of matrons quilting under a tree.
It was relatively safe company, he thought, until he saw Giles make his way
over to them.