A Country Marriage by Sandra Jane Goddard Read Free Book Online Page A

grasped it firmly and with her other hand lifting the hem of her dress, followed him down. At the bottom of the steps she noticed the smell of fresh paint, and when he depressed the latch and pushed the low door, it opened to the sound of scraping hinges. ‘Well, then. Welcome to Keeper’s Cottage,’ he said and going ahead of her, stepped inside to place the lantern on the table in front of him.
    For the first time that day, she noticed that he, too, appeared to be nervous.
    ‘Thank you.’ She wished her voice had produced more than a whisper but at least she had answered him. She also wished that she could meet his look. Instead, though, she peered at the room before her: a fireplace with a chair beside it; a table with two stools tucked underneath; a further, smaller table under the far window with a pitcher and basin. In the far corner a ladder led up to the loft, and from the stamped-earth floor came the unmistakeable smell of damp soil.
    ‘It needs a fire,’ he said, seeming suddenly to see the room as she did, ‘but if it’s all the same to you, I won’t bother setting one now since we’ll be going up presently.’ She noticed the sidelong glance he gave her and the way that he shifted his weight from one boot to the other. Yes, he was nervous, too. ‘I brought in water earlier.’ Seeing him motion to the pitcher and basin on the side, she gave a single nod. ‘Well, you’ll most likely want to… wash, then, so I’ll just go outside and um…’ and as his statement petered out, she saw him gesture towards the back door.
    When it closed behind him, she exhaled a long breath. Gloomy: that was the word for it. She glanced quickly about, surprised by how the description made her feel disloyal. Tomorrow, by daylight – or even simply with a fire in the hearth – it would probably look less bleak… and less depressing. And a few of the odds and ends of everyday life would soon have it feeling a little more homely.
    By the windowsill, she fingered the glaze of the china basin – crackled now to the colour of old lace – and poured in some water. She had no idea how long he would be gone but it would be a weight off her mind if by the time he came back she could be in bed, because the last thing she needed right now was this man – this stranger – undressing her. Galvanised by the prospect, she splashed her face several times with the cool water and looked about for something with which to dry herself. Then she reached behind her back, but after a good deal of fiddling, had only managed to undo the first couple of buttons in the row that ran all the way down to her waist. Buttons. Of all the things to be thwarted by! And the pounding in her head wasn’t helping, either. Resting her hands on the ledge, she let her head fall forward. Well, seemingly, there was nothing to be done: seemingly, she was left with no choice but to ask for his help, and so when the back door opened and he reappeared, narrowing his eyes against the sallow light, she drew a breath.
    ‘I can’t…’ but it was no good; the words seemed stuck in her throat. She flicked a glance in his direction but clearly, he hadn’t the least idea of her problem and so withholding a sigh, she turned her back to him. ‘I can’t… undo the buttons,’ she managed to say now that she could no longer see his face.
    ‘Oh. Well. Here, let me take a look then.’ In her mind, she pictured him peering at the back of her dress. ‘Come back a bit nearer the lantern; they’re awful tiny.’
    For a moment, she stood with her breath locked tightly in her chest while he started to work his way slowly and awkwardly down the row, until with the feel of the last one coming undone, she spun around, still careful to avoid his eyes.
    ‘May I go up and take it off?’
    Silence.
    ‘Course.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    Clearly her request had been a mistake. It was why he had hesitated to let her go. Yes, she had breached some or other custom; some or other