Page 28 of The Widower Without a Will
He never slept there the whole night, nor did they ever touch in view of anyone else.Still, Martha felt his eyes on her almost every moment they were in a room together—and if not his eyes, then his fingers, and if not his fingers, then his mouth.
She and Kenneth must have felt this way when they were newly married, in those heady first few months before they started worrying about a child, but it was too long ago for Martha to remember.This desire she felt towards Lord Preston, unadulterated with wifely concerns, seemed new and pure.He was nothing to her except a lover, and she did not owe him anything except her honest desire.
It was poisonously exciting.
On a day that he went to Thatcham to visit Mr.Maulvi, Martha remained behind—not wanting to risk running into old acquaintances who might notice her new cheer.She took her sewing basket down to the garden drawing room, where the wide windows let in plenty of natural light so she could see her stitches.She had to adjust her autumn clothes for mourning.
Conveniently, her seat in the drawing room also gave her a view of the painting above the mantel.This was a watercolor of Lady Preston with her five children.They looked out solemnly, yet one could feel the mother’s love in how she draped one hand on a son’s shoulder and held the littlest child—Caroline—in her lap.
Where had Lord Preston been when his family sat for this painting?
What did he see when he looked at it?Were all his memories rosy?Was there no woman who could compare with Lady Preston?
Martha was so absorbed that she was caught staring at the painting when Mrs.Chow entered, carrying a basket of books to be replaced on the shelf.Embarrassed, Martha greeted the other woman too brightly: “How goes your day, Mrs.Chow?”
The housekeeper looked a little surprised.Had Martha been cool to her up until now?Or had she simply been expecting to find the drawing room empty, assuming Martha had gone to Thatcham with Lord Preston?Mrs.Chow replied, “Fine, thank you.Do you need any refreshments?”
“No, thank you, though I would welcome your company, if you have a few moments to sit and rest.”
Mrs.Chow considered the basket in her arms for a moment, then took Martha up on the offer.“My back aches so easily these days.”The woman was around the same age as Martha, her hair a fine white that stood out nicely against the darker olive tone of her skin.She spoke English tilted by the accent of her native Chinese language, though the words came so easily that Martha hardly noticed it.
“Especially since you have grandchildren to race after,” Martha said in sympathy.“Are you in great anticipation of Mr.Eddie Chow’s child?”
Mrs.Chow waved her hand as if sweeping away bad luck.“A child is a blessing, that’s what the English say, isn’t it?Though they can run a mother’s heart ragged, too.”
Martha wasn’t sure if Mrs.Chow meant to reference Lucas or if she meant it generally about any child, and so she kept her reply simple: “Yes.”
“Eddie is my sweetest boy,” Mrs.Chow went on, “but he gave me the greatest worry because of how he loved Miss Caroline.When they ran away together…”
Martha looked up to see the other woman shaking her head, her brow drawn with old heartache, and she considered that the story of Lucas might never have made it to the working people of Northfield Hall.Or, even if it had, Mrs.Chow might not remember that it belonged to Martha.
Or the woman still worried so deeply for Eddie, even though he and Caroline seemed happily settled, that she needed to hear a promise from Martha that he would not end his life the way Lucas had.
Martha folded her hands across her sewing.“My son eloped with an earl’s daughter, and it ended in both their deaths.Hers of fever and his…” The grief that never went away surged upward.“He destroyed himself.I like to believe he thought that was the kindest way to end the ordeal, yet it only made things worse for me and his father, of course.Because we couldn’t even—” But she would not cry.She had cried enough, and that wasn’t the point she was trying to make.“We couldn’t even give him a proper burial.I don’t know if that is how you honor your dead, but for me, to not have a grave I can visit…Well, the heartache never ends.”
Mrs.Chow watched her steadily.“I was furious with Eddie when he ran away with her.I did everything in my power to keep him from doing that, and then he went and did exactly what he should not have done.Were you furious?”
Martha surprised herself by laughing.She had forgotten, butyes, how angry she had been when they had first heard he was discovered in Bath with Lady Imogen!“Fury is not how a mother is supposed to express her love.”
“But children are infuriating!”
“Oh, from the moment they are born,” Martha agreed.“I remember the first time Lucas peed on me as I changed his nappy.Right in my eye!I thought, ‘Now I’m supposed to give you a kiss?No, thank you!’” She wiped at her cheek as if to clear that old mess from her face.“Ah, but I would give anything to change his nappy again, if I could.”
Mrs.Chow reached over and gave Martha’s fingers a firm squeeze.“Your son was loved.That’s what you must take comfort in.”
“And your sonisloved, by you and very much so by Caroline.”
“Verymuch so,” Mrs.Chow agreed, “and though I may never understand it, I do think it is strong enough for them to withstand life, so long as they have each other.”
Which made Martha wonder: Had Lady Imogen survived her fever, would she and Lucas be living happily somewhere in Bath with a gaggle of children?Would Martha have been able to see them, or would she have been obliged to shun them to demonstrate proper moral fiber to Tolpuddle?
“In any case, once the baby is safely delivered, I shall be very happy and eager to love it.I find grandchildren far less infuriating than children.Now, if only Lord Preston would let Leyla replace me so I could retire to my cottage…”
The mention of her lover threatened to bring a blush to Martha’s cheeks.She looked down at her sewing to keep her face from betraying anything.“Is he opposed to Leyla?”The head housemaid seemed more than competent to Martha’s unaccustomed judgment.
“He is opposed to change.Just look at how he hasn’t hired a new steward even though Mr.Maulvi has been ill the better part of the year.”Mrs.Chow shook her head at the painting of Lady Preston and her children.“Ever since Caroline and Eddie ran off together, I think, he has not been willing to consider change unless it is forced upon him.But how can I force my retirement upon him?Aside from dying, which I really would rather not do.”
Martha felt guilty at how excited she was to receive this glimpse of insight into Lord Preston.She ran her finger over the seam she had just finished.“He is hoping Lord Benjamin will become the steward.”
