Grave Goods by Ariana Franklin Read Free Book Online Page B

were strict, though she merely asked, “So you won’t marry again?”
    “No.” Emma was sharp about it. “And thanks to you, I don’t have to. But …”
    It was a lingering conjunction. Adelia waited to hear what it led to.
    Suddenly, there was an outburst of anguish. “They talk about the joys of the marriage bed, but I never knew them—not with him, he did things to me. … I was forced … I fought … I never consented, never.….”
    “I know.” Adelia took her friend’s arm. “I know.”
    “Yet there must
be
joys,” Emma said desperately. “You knew them with Rowley. There must be gentler men, loving men.”
    “Yes,” Adelia told her with authority, “there are. You may meet one, Emmy. You
could
marry again, this time by your own choosing.”
    “
No.
” It was almost a scream. “I don’t trust … I shall not be subject again … You of all people should understand that.”
    Nearby, a nightingale began to sing, its cadences refreshing the garden like silvery drops of water. The two women stopped to listen.
    More quietly, Emma went on. “I am seventeen years old, ’Delia. If I live to be ancient, I shall never have known pleasure with a man.”
    Adelia waited. This outpouring was heading somewhere; she didn’t know where. Emma was expecting something from her, but she didn’t know what that was, either.
    “But suppose,” Emma said desperately, “suppose, for the sake of argument, one set one’s heart on a man, an unsuitable man, someone … oh, I don’t know, of a status below one’s own.”
    She became irritated, as if she expected Adelia to answer a question she had not put. Going briskly ahead, she said over her shoulder, “Somebody one couldn’t marry, even if one wanted to, because his occupation and birth would bring social obloquy on one … and one’s child. Suppose that.”
    Adelia tried to. Ahead of her, Emma’s figure was that of an elegant ghost in the moonlight, a pale shade that flicked petals from the roses it passed as if it disdained them.
    Walking behind, Adelia attempted to follow the circumlocution that Emma had used to pose her question. What was it her poor friend wanted from her? No marriage, never marriage. No children, never more children. A life without physical love, yet a heart, such a sad heart, longing for the tenderness of a man … an unsuitable man …
    Then understanding came. Adelia castigated herself.
What a fool I am. Of course. I should have known. That’s it
.
    She quickened her pace, caught Emma by the arm, and led her to a seat in an alcove of roses, made her sit down, and sat down herself.
    “Did I ever tell you my theory on how it is possible to avoid conception?” she asked, as if she was raising a different subject.
    “No,” Emma said, as if she, too, found the matter a new one. “No, I don’t believe you did.”
    “It’s my foster parents’ theory, in fact,” Adelia said. “They are an extraordinary couple, I think I’ve told you. They refuse to be bound by their differing religions—he’s a Jew, she’s a Christian, but their minds are free,
so
free, of laws, prejudices, superstition, imprisoned thinking …” She paused, overwhelmed by longing tosee them again and by gratitude for the upbringing they had given her.
    “Really?” Emma said politely.
    “Yes. And they traveled, you see. To gain medical knowledge. They asked questions of different races, tribes, other histories, customs, and my foster mother, bless her, went to the women, especially the women.”
    “Yes?” Emma said, and again it seemed of little interest to her.
    “Yes. And by the time she returned to Salerno, she had gathered, first, that women through the ages have tried to have control over their own bodies—and the methods they’ve used.”
    “Goodness gracious,” Emma said lightly.
    “Yes,” Adelia said. And because she was Adelia, to whom the dissemination of knowledge was essential and must be as fascinating to the listener as it was to her,