Courting Susannah by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online

make no reply to that. Beyond the basic mechanics of intercourse, she had no idea what would be considered normal. She bit down hard on her lower lip and dropped her voice to a scandalized whisper.
    â€œWhy are you saying these things?”
    â€œI reckon I want you to understand Mr. Fairgrievebetter’n you most likely do. Mrs. Fairgrieve, too, for that matter. You know one side of her, I think, and the mister, well, he knows another.”
    â€œIt’s hardly necessary for me to ‘understand’ Mr. Fairgrieve, and I knew Julia very well, thank you. Probably better than anyone.” But had she? Although her experience with people was limited indeed, Susannah knew people had many different facets to their natures and presented varying faces to varying friends, relations, and acquaintances.
    â€œDon’t get all tetchy now,” Maisie said good-naturedly. “Things ain’t always what they seem. That’s all I’m tryin’ to say.”
    Susannah nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s just that Julia seemed so very unhappy.”
    â€œAnd you can’t help thinkin’ that was the mister’s fault?”
    She hesitated, nodded again. Something about this woman, something about the cozy warmth of the kitchen and the snow falling beyond the windows, made Susannah feel safe. “I’ve heard,” she ventured, then stopped and started again. “I’ve heard that it hurts terribly, what men and women do together. Maybe Julia just couldn’t bear it.”
    Maisie’s eyes held a sort of pitying humor as she watched Susannah. She served the tea. “There’s some hollerin’ that goes on, I’ll grant you that,” she said, “but I don’t reckon it’s pain that makes a woman cry out. Not with a man like Mr. Fairgrieve.”
    Susannah was fascinated; she felt her eyes go wide. “She—she cried out?”
    Maisie merely smiled and served the tea.
    After they’d shared the tea, and a confidence or two, they set out to accomplish the housework. Although Mrs. Butterfield had referred to Susannah as acompanion, she had, in effect, served as housekeeper and cook into the bargain. She found a welcome distraction in dusting, sweeping, making up beds, and doing dishes.
    By mid-morning, the work was done. She returned to her room, and to Victoria, who was still sleeping. Although Susannah was not one to place great store in her appearance, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above her bureau, and she was nonetheless pleased to note the silver-blond shimmer of her hair, the stormy, changeable gray of her eyes, the trim agility of her figure.
    No, she was not beautiful as Julia had been beautiful, but she was pleasing to look upon, a person of distinction and value. She could make a difference in Victoria’s life.
    She got out a book and sat down to read.
    Luncheon was served in the kitchen, and Maisie was there, seated in the rocker close by the stove, a pile of knitting in her lap. “There’s my sweet’ums!” she cried, catching sight of the baby as soon as Susannah carried her into the room. “Let me have that darlin’ thing.”
    To Susannah’s surprise, Aubrey was at the table, looking considerably more cheerful than he had earlier, when he’d complained about the noise Victoria was making. He had already pushed away his plate, but there was a cup of coffee steaming in his hand, and he seemed in no hurry to finish it.
    He was dressed for business—high time, Susannah thought uncharitably—in a well-cut tweed suit with a waistcoat, now draped over the back of an extra chair. His brown hair gleamed, still damp from brushing, and his eyes showed a brief flicker of amused admiration before he forced a frown into them.
    â€œGood morning, Miss McKittrick,” he said, rising momentarily out of simple good manners.
    She took a plate from the table and went to