Somerset (19 page)

“C
ome sit here by me, son, I have something to tell you,” Silas said. He took a seat in one of the tufted chairs in Joshua's room and pulled another close to him. Joshua plopped tiredly down, ready for bed. He had eaten his surfeit at supper after an hour of play while luggage was carried to their rooms. His expression had wondered why certain of his belongings had been brought along, but he had not inquired further. Joshua assumed they were staying in the hotel for only a week while the train replenished supplies and made repairs. Two shocks were coming to the boy. One could wait until later. Silas had decided to deal first with the one he considered more important.

“Yes, Papa?”

Silas leaned forward to engage Joshua's droopy attention. “I've kept something from you because I believed you would not understand. You may not understand now, but you will later when you're older.”

Joshua listened with drowsy interest. Silas continued. “Jessica is more than your friend, son. She is my wife and your stepmother. We were married at Willowshire in January.”

Joshua came alert. “You and Jessica are married? But you don't act married, like Grandmother and Grandfather used to.”

“I know. That's why I won't be sharing your room tonight. I will be with…my wife next door. That's what married people do. They…sleep together. Tippy will be in her room, right next to yours if you need anything.”

Joshua's brow wrinkled. “If Jessica is my stepmother, does that mean she will be only half a mother? She won't love me as much as a whole one?”

“No, that's not what that means at all, son,” Silas said, drawing the boy onto his lap. “Jessica loves you with her whole heart, I can tell. You were not born to her, but by Jessica becoming my wife, you become her son.”

“My real mother died long ago when I was born, didn't she?”

“That's right.”

“She never had a chance to love me.”

“No, she didn't,” Silas said, his throat tightening. Tenderly, he attempted to subdue a cowlick on the soft crown of his son's head.

“But Jessica will make up for it.”

“I have no doubt.”

“And she can still be my friend?”

“Forever and always. That's what she promised, and I figure her for a woman who keeps her promises.”

“Will she let me call her Mother, like my friends do theirs?”

“I'm sure she'd like that very much.”

“I would really like a mother.”

All at once, to Silas's surprise, Joshua scooted out of his lap to stand facing him between his knees. He clasped his father's face with both hands to ensure his attention. “Papa…” he said, staring hard into Silas's eyes.

Amused, Silas said, “Yes, son?”

“Promise me you won't take me away from Jessica like you did from Lettie and Grandmother and Uncle Morris.”

Silas felt tears burn his eyes. He lifted his son back into his lap and held him tightly. “I promise, Joshua. We will keep Jessica with us forever if she will stay.”

So it was done, Jeremy thought. By tomorrow, Silas and Jessica would be husband and wife. Jeremy had heard his instructions to the innkeeper, and had drawn Silas aside out of earshot of the others.

“Tell me to mind my own business, if you like,” he'd said, “but I must ask. Did you mean what I think you meant about sharing a room with Jessica, or was that said for the sake of appearances?”

“I meant it.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I took your advice and read her diary.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I hope you do, Jeremy. You were right. Jessica is attracted to me, and I've come to care for her. Neither of us yet know where our feelings will lead, but I want to do right by her. I want to make her happy if possible.”

Jeremy had clasped his friend's shoulder. “I've no doubt you will, my friend. I wish you every happiness. My best to you both.”

Jeremy was happy for Silas, he really was. His friend didn't deserve Jessica, having gained her in the way he did, but Silas would grow to love her—never as much as his plantation, but close enough. Silas's remark,
I hope you do, Jeremy,
had let him know that Jessica was his. Jeremy could put aside his private hope that Jessica might fall into his hands. That possibility was now not likely to be. A pity. He would have set his slaves free for Jessica's sake. She was an extraordinary person who had won his admiration more by the day. Now there was nothing for it but for him and the woman he would gladly have married to become the greatest of friends.

“How did you know I'd be…willing,” Jessica asked as Silas unbuttoned the last obstacle to the other barriers in the way of their mutual desire. Jessica stood still while his hands did their work.

“I read your diary,” he said.

“What?”

He kissed her astonished mouth. “While you were sleeping,” Silas said afterwards while her lids were still closed in pleasure. He kissed them, too. “Thank God I did. I would have continued under the delusion you hated me.”

Her eyes flew open. “I tried to. I don't know why I don't.”

The corset was next, followed by a camisole. “I don't for the life of me know either,” Silas said, unlacing the ribbons that held the garment together. “I shall do my best to give you no reason to as…a husband.”

The gentle implication was clear. Jessica accepted it. He might give her cause to despise him as a slave owner, but as her husband, her lover—how could she hate a man who filled her with such physical longing?

The corset fell away, and Silas pulled the camisole over Jessica's head. “Dear God,” he said in awe at the second sight of her exposed breasts.

“I'll do the rest,” Jessica said, hurriedly stepping out of the petticoats and her pantalets. Watching her, Silas untied the sash to his dressing robe, and it dropped to the floor. He touched her bandage.

“Are you sure you're well enough for this?”

“I'm well enough,” she said, giving him her hand, and Silas took it and led her to the bed.

S
ilas was gone by the time Jessica awoke. She reached over to his side of the bed and found a shocking void. Her first thought was that he had fled from her, too embarrassed by their unrestrained ardor the night before to face her. How could she blame him? She had behaved appallingly for a bride…a virgin. He must wonder if she hadn't had experience for him to have satisfied her need so naturally and easily.

Jessica threw back the sheet to take advantage of the ablutions closet and remove her head binding, which Silas had been careful not to disturb. Still it was a miracle the cut looked none the worse for her exertions except for its unpleasing discoloration. She left the dressing off until Tippy could replace it and returned naked to bed, not yet ready to leave its warmth or memories from her first sexual experience.

Little about it was as she'd expected or been warned of in the long discussions of wedding nights with her classmates at boarding school. She had bled slightly but had felt no pain, only an intense pleasure that made her feel as if she were floating among the stars. When Silas discovered the virginal stains, he'd gone at once to soak a cloth in basin water and bathed her as tenderly and unselfconsciously as if he were tending a baby. He placed a clean towel under her, and they turned their backs to the other to seek sleep, but their need—or lust, Jessica didn't know which—got the better of them, and they turned to each other again.

She should be ashamed of her abandonment to a man she barely knew, even if he was her husband, but she did not. For the first time in her life, she did not feel plain and undesirable. Silas made her feel beautiful and wanted, and, against her instincts and better judgment, that tribute to her vanity alone might force her to be happy with him. Love was a long way off and may never come for either of them, she realized that. She was not so young that she did not know time and familiarity and irreconcilable differences could snuff the strongest attraction, but she would not borrow tomorrow's trouble. She would live for today.

Where had Silas gotten himself off to? She missed him so, ached for him. He had told her he had business in New Orleans today and would not return to the hotel prior to leaving for camp, but that was before last night. She had hoped for them to have breakfast together, a civilized and appropriate formality to the consummation of their marriage.

Jessica sighed ruefully. Here she was, already fuming like any wife disappointed at her husband's dereliction of his connubial duties.

A soft knock on the adjoining door of her bedroom startled her from her musings. Hastily, she drew the sheet over her exposed breasts. Tippy, she thought, chomping at the bit to find out what happened.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened and Silas entered. He was dressed in clothes suitable for a drawing room and looked fresh, rested, and unbearably handsome. “Good morning,” he said, a sheepish glimmer in his eye. “How's the head?”

Quickly Jessica covered the spot of her injury with her hand, her heart beginning to pound. “Don't look. It's starting to go an ugly color, but otherwise it survived the night.”

“A wonder.” Silas came around the edge of the bed and removed her hand to judge for himself. “It doesn't look ugly to me,” he said. “It's a sign of the healing power of youth and health, but to be on caution's side, it should be rebandaged. I'll send Tippy in. And…uh, are you all right otherwise as well?”

“I find myself perfectly all right.”

A moment's awkward silence hung between them. Jessica pulled the sheet higher and burrowed her head deeper into the pillows. “You must think I'm a wanton,” she said, peering at him over the edge of the bed linen.

A grin relaxed his countenance. “I think nothing of the kind. I was intensely flattered by your…response to my enthusiasm.”

“I'm sure I'm not the only woman who has aroused yours, but be assured you're the only man who has ever aroused mine.”

Silas grinned wider. “What an enormous compliment. I hope you found the experience better than copulating with a mule.”

“I can't say since I've had no comparison,” Jessica said loftily.

Silas chuckled and withdrew two letters from inside his coat, one secured by a wax seal and the other protected in a handmade envelope. “Here. These are for you. I collected them from the reception desk. The Morgans forgot to give them to you last evening. From the seal, I see that one is from your mother. I hope she sends good news but not enough to make you homesick. Now I must leave you, but I'll be back at noon to have a meal with you and Joshua, then I must get back to camp.”

He leaned down again. Jessica thought he meant only to kiss her cheek and be on his way, but a mischievous glint appeared in the emerald irises, and before she could anticipate his move, he pulled at the sheet.

“Lord have mercy, Jessica.” He sighed and pressed his lips to the voluptuous curve of her breast.

It required all her willpower not to thread her hands through his black hair and pull him down to her, but she must think of Joshua in the next room. She pushed him away and restored the sheet. “Where's your son?” she asked.

“Downstairs,” Silas said, straightening reluctantly. “He's had his breakfast and found a playmate, Jake, one of the boys from the wagon train. His parents are staying at the hotel.”

“Joshua doesn't know…about us, does he?”

“I told him last night that we're married. He wants to call you Mother.”

“Oh, Silas, really?” In her joy, Jessica almost sat up. She could hardly believe it. She'd anguished over the real possibility that Joshua would reject her as a mother when he learned that she and his father were husband and wife. “He wants to call me Mother?”

“That was his expressed wish.”

“I'm honored,” Jessica said and tried the name on her tongue.
“Mother…
”

Silas bent down once more, and she saw his teasing intent to pull at the sheet again, but she held it firmly despite a flush that warmed her thighs. “Go away so I can read my letters,” she said, pushing him away with her free hand.

Silas laughed and tweaked her cheek, but obeyed. With her eyes, Jessica followed him to the door and they were on him when he opened it and glanced back, his gaze serious and still. “Let us not question what has happened between us, Jessica, or why. Let us simply accept it and be…grateful.”

“I will, Silas.”

“I will return at the noon hour,” he said. “Rest now.”

Tippy burst in a minute later, eyes growing huge when she saw Jessica still in bed and apparently naked under the sheets. “Don't tell me it happened,” she said excitedly.

“It happened,” Jessica said, “and no, I'm not going to tell you
what
happened, but it was divine.”

“Well, thank the stars and moon and all heavenly bodies,” Tippy said, and tugged the bellpull twice to request bath water. “Now maybe Mister Silas will reconsider his intention to leave you here. Once a man has tasted honey, you think he's going to leave the bucket behind?”

“I've reconsidered my desire to go with him, Tippy. Joshua knows we're married. Silas says he's happy about it and wants to call me Mother. Isn't that wonderful? So now I not only have to think of you, but also of my responsibility to my little…stepson and”—Jessica gave Tippy a look—“I may have to think of me, just in case.”

“What do you mean, just in case?”

“I'm in my fertile period.”

“Glory be!” Usual for her in moments of elation, Tippy covered her small face with her large hands, leaving nothing but wisps of hair and ears showing. Behind the enclosure she asked in a muffled voice, “You going to let Mister Silas know?”

“We'll see,” Jessica said, removing the letter from the envelope that had been posted from Boston. Jessica did not recognize the return address. Her mother's letter could wait. Jessica was hungry for every word from Willowshire, but the letter's contents might sadden her, and she wanted nothing to disturb her euphoria.

“It's from Sarah Conklin!” she exclaimed, surprised. “She's moved to Boston. She writes that she made it home safely but regrets that her nephew, Paul, had to see her in such a state when she arrived. She says her back took a long time to heal, but she's fine now. Paul wants to attend West Point and be a soldier when he grows up.”

Jessica frowned and Tippy asked, “What's wrong?”

“Sarah says we may not live to see it, but she predicts that in time there will be a war between the North and South over the issue of slavery.”

Tippy, preparing the bandage to redress Jessica's wound, said quietly, “We will live to see it.”

Jessica glanced at her, and a feather-light chill ran over her naked skin. Tippy was from the stars. They told her things, and her prophesies were never wrong.

In her mother's envelope were two letters. “Tippy, here's a letter for you from Willie May!” Jessica cried. “Bless Mama for enclosing it. I'm sure Papa didn't know.”

Tippy snatched it from her hand, and the two exchanged news contained in each mother's letter until Jessica came to the last paragraph in hers. As she'd dreaded, her mother had enclosed matter that disturbed and saddened her. “Oh, no!” she gasped.

“What is it?”

“Silas will be heartbroken…devastated. How I loathe to tell him.…”

“Tell him what?”

“Tell him about Lettie,” Jessica said. “She's married to Morris and is now the mistress of Queenscrown.”