Page 35 of Twelve Drummers Drumming

“Jemima, you have no idea what you are doing to me.”

Him? She was the one who had experienced something so unbelievable, so shocking, so wild, that her body had still not quite recovered.

And she wanted it again. Her body was greedy for that sort of pleasure. She wanted to take it again, her body arching with pleasure, and she wanted to give it, somehow, to Hugh. She wanted to see his eyes widen, to hear him cry out her name.

She was finding it difficult to get last night’s encounter with Captain Hugh Rotherham out of her mind. Sometimes she thought she had dreamt it, but it was so clear in her memory.

It had certainly not felt like a dream, except in its most fantastical parts. That a man like Hugh should be interested in her! That such things could be done, and with just a few fingers…

“And Stuart—Dr. Walsingham, that is, is in complete shock,” said Caroline quietly. She was much more reserved than usual, and Jemima could see that her eyes were heavy.

Caroline, it appeared, had cried through most of the night. Instead of the usual cream-colored gowns she preferred, she had taken out her mourning wear and was dressed in her only black gown.

Sophia asked quietly, “What does that mean for you, Caroline?”

Caroline frowned as she started to speak. “It is complicated…the family tree is a complex one, and I am not entirely sure… I think there is little change, but Walsingham said…I do not think we should speak of the dead.”

“Come now, darling,” said Selina, a hand to her forehead. “There must be more to it than that.”

Jemima noted with interest that for once, Caroline did not seem interested in discussing her Dr. Walsingham. But she had another interest, too, and decided to take advantage of the fact she was seated by her father.

“Papa,” she said quietly, “I wish to know your opinion on Captain Rotherham.”

Arthur swallowed his mouthful, and after wiping his mouth with his handkerchief, asked casually, “Was he unwell when he arrived?”

Jemima was confused. She played with her fork, not heeding the conversation around her. “No, Captain Rotherham was perfectly well when I last saw—”

“Not that we knew of,” Selina answered, and Jemima sighed. Of course, that question had not been for her. “But then, Dr. Walsingham had not seen his extended family for several years, he told me once at a card party.”

“And he has no other family?”

Caroline shook her head, hardly listening it seemed.

“…do not you think, Caroline?”

Jemima looked up when she realized Caroline had not answered her mother’s question. Her sister was staring at her plate, moving a half-eaten warm roll around with her fingers.

“I said,” repeated her mother, “I am sure Dr. Walsingham will be very busy now, organizing his great-uncle’s will now he is the only living family, do not you think, Caroline?”

Eyes around the table flickered over to Caroline, who would still not meet anyone’s gaze.

“I have no wish to speak of this,” she said finally in a quiet voice.

“Papa,” Jemima said urgently in a low tone to her father, “I must speak with you.”

“Hmm?” Arthur turned to her absentmindedly. “What exactly about, my child?”

“About Captain Rotherham. I wondered—”

“Not this again, Jemima—we have said it, if we have said it a thousand times, you are not in Parliament, and so you have no control over the military decisions of this country, and no, we do not want to hear your thoughts of what you would do if you were! Ah, the post!” Arthur looked pleased as a footman entered with a series of envelopes on a silver tray.

Sophia swallowed a large mouthful and shouted, “Anything for me, Papa? I’m expecting a letter from Cousin Maria.”

“I’m hoping for a note from Joy and Harmony,” Arabella called across her sister. “I was hoping that I would have received a letter from Esther or Lucy by now, but I suppose it is too much to expect from them, they always forget to attend to their manners. Is it there, Papa?”

Jemima sighed and focused on her breakfast once more as the footman brought the silver tray to their father. Picking the letters off the tray, Arthur Fitzroy looked through them with an interested eye.

“Another letter from the bank, ridiculous fools—I shall have to go back there tomorrow, Selina, my love, this is getting quite preposterous—and something that looks to me to be in a solicitor’s hand…yes, that is for me, as well. Ah, here we have a letter for you, Sophia, I hope Maria and her family are well…and what is this? A letter for Jemima?”

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