Читать книгу Daisy’s Betrayal - Nancy Carson - Страница 11

Lawson had not seen Daisy with her hair down before and he looked at her for some seconds as she brushed it, savouring the sight. He unfastened his cuffs, took off his necktie and removed his collar.

‘Tomorrow we’ll hire a hansom and have a look at the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll have a bite to eat and go to the Tower of London and see how they’re getting on with that Tower Bridge they’re building.’

‘I wouldn’t mind spending a whole day in the National Gallery,’ she answered as she got up from her stool. ‘You know how I enjoy nice paintings.’

‘We’ll go there on Monday. On Sunday afternoon we’ll go to tea at Buckingham Palace, eh? I bet her blessed Majesty Queen Victoria would be keen enough to hang the kettle over the fire, lay her best chenille cloth over the table and bring out her home-made fruit cake.’

Daisy laughed happily as she pulled back the bedclothes and slid between the sheets. She looked at him and sighed. ‘Oh, I love you so much, Lawson …’

He sat beside her on the bed and put his arm around her. He kissed her on the cheek affectionately. ‘I love you as well, Daisy. With all my heart. Now get some sleep.’

‘But I want to feel the warmth of your body next to mine,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks.’

He shook his head and chuckled. ‘I want to feel your body next to mine, my love. I want nothing more. But I’m not about to get myself worked up into a lather if I can’t have you because of your … your circumstance. If I take my beauty sleep instead and appear to ignore you, you won’t be offended, will you?’

‘Oh, Lawson, I’m so sorry about tonight …’

Paddington Station was overtly grand and pungently aromatic, as well as being excessively noisy with the hideous roar of steam locomotives and their ear-splitting whistles. Porters and guards hurried to and fro, opening carriage doors, stowing luggage and giving other unmistakable signs that the departure of the 9.45 to Bristol was approaching. A footplateman was leaning out of his cab, routinely watching, waiting for the signal to depart. Lawson hurriedly gave a silver threepenny bit to the porter who was leaving them, having stashed their luggage inside their first-class carriage just in time. A whistle blew and the great blast of steam from the locomotive’s funnel was like Krakatoa erupting.

‘We only just made it,’ Daisy said, feeling the first forward movement of the train as she got her breath back.

‘Well, you were in no rush to get up and have breakfast.’

She chuckled. ‘I’m on honeymoon.’

‘The honeymoon begins at Bath,’ he proclaimed. ‘In earnest.’

She smiled and nodded acquiescently, then looked out of the window at the dismal hulk of a gasometer and the lines of drab houses along the Paddington Canal.

‘How long is this journey likely to take, Lawson?’

‘About two and a half hours. Sit back and enjoy the scenery.’

In no time they had travelled through the pleasant suburbs of New Kensington and Notting Hill, through fields verdant in their new spring greenery, and had reached Ealing Station. Daisy sat with her head against the soft squab of the headrest as they crossed over the Thames at Maidenhead. They traversed some spectacular countryside adorned with villages, farmsteads and quaint church towers that peeped over the tops of trees like lookouts. The river appeared again as soon as they pulled out of Reading Station. Daisy was fascinated by the ever-changing vista of a countryside she had never expected to see.

At Pangbourne an elderly gentlemen entered their compartment. A profusion of untrimmed hairs sprouted from his nose and ears. He raised his hat to Daisy and offered a polite good morning to Lawson, then settled down to read his newspaper. His presence inhibited their intimate discussion of the treats she could expect in Bath but not her affectionate smiles that flashed across the compartment from time to time. Lawson tried to strike up a conversation with the man, but he was more interested in his newspaper. However, they did glean from him that the train would stop at Swindon long enough to visit the refreshment rooms.

The first-class side of the refreshment room was exquisite, elaborately decorated in arabesques and supported by columns painted to imitate inlaid woods. The mirrors, the hangings and the furniture would have done justice to the dining rooms of nobility. Daisy sat at a table while Lawson went to the counter and was rapidly served by an obliging young woman. He bought a selection of sandwiches, two Banbury cakes, a pot of tea and a pint of pale ale. Soon they were back in their compartment and on their way.

Daisy knew they had arrived at Bath when the train slowed down as it emerged from a deep, beautifully landscaped cutting. The line of carriages, like a regal procession, sedately crossed a castellated viaduct built in yellow stone high above the River Avon. Daisy beheld a striking panorama of the city, a profusion of golden buildings bathed in spring sunshine, like some new Jerusalem, she thought, spreading up the surrounding hills. She enthusiastically nudged Lawson.

‘Oh, look at the view.’

Lawson smiled indulgently and patted her hand.

‘Oh, please can we take a walk, Lawson? I’m dying to see the shops.’

‘As soon as we can. But first things first. We’ll have to find a hansom to take us to our hotel.’

They alighted from the carriage, a porter took their baggage, and they headed for the row of hansom cabs already lined up outside in Dorchester Street.

Daisy gasped when she saw the imposing façade of the Grand Pump Room Hotel. Inside, she was amazed to be taken to their third-storey room in a lift, of all things. At once, Lawson decided to take a swim in the Royal Baths attached to the hotel, foregoing their walk.

‘Why don’t you come and watch when you’ve unpacked?’ he suggested. ‘I understand there’s a balcony for spectators.’

The bedroom was large and ornate with a red patterned carpet. The wallpaper was maroon with an overpowering floral theme and a huge stone fireplace burned logs that gave off a pleasant outdoor aroma of leaves burning in autumn. The four-poster seemed high and when Daisy sat on it to take off her hat, it was comfortable enough.

When she had unpacked and spruced herself up, she decided it was time to watch Lawson swim. Apprehensively, she entered the lift once more and was taken to the ground floor where she was directed along a spacious corridor that took her past private bathrooms and dressing rooms. She noticed a sign that announced a Cooling Room for Ladies and deduced that ladies were indeed allowed to use the baths. As she turned around, she could see the magnificent swimming bath below with its classical marble statue at the far end. Lawson saw her and waved, then continued swimming.

When they returned to their room, Lawson, tired from his exertions, slept. Daisy went to one of the private bathrooms and drew a hot bath. As she undressed she pondered the absolute luxury of hot running water. The bathroom filled up with steam and she slid her plain lisle stockings down her legs and slipped off her new drawers. She ran hot water into the wash basin and thoroughly laundered the rolled-up napkin she had been wearing – for use another day – and saw that it was unstained. Her heart leapt with joy at the realisation that she and Lawson could at last consummate their marriage. Relieved, she stepped into the bath with a smile on her face and slid into its comforting warmth, contemplating her forthcoming initiation.

At dinner, they sat opposite each other in the elegant dining room. They started with salmon in a shrimp sauce and then roast lamb with mint jelly and fresh vegetables. Lawson requested a bottle of Beaune and drank most of it himself. But he messed his food about, something he always seemed to do, and refused any pudding.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘Oh, I’ve had enough. I’m not a big eater.’

‘It surprises me, Lawson. I mean, you’re tall and … I would have thought you needed your food.’

He made no comment.

‘I enjoy my food,’ Daisy commented, ‘but I can be excused for not clearing my plate. I don’t want to get fat. What do you think of the food here?’

‘It’s a bit plainer than it was in London. But it’s tasty enough.’ He quaffed his wine. ‘Anyway, what would you like to do tomorrow?’

She half smiled. ‘After we’ve seen all the shops, you mean?’

‘We’re not spending all day walking from shop to shop.’

‘Well, we could wander around the abbey, I suppose – if you like. And I’d love to see that place that’s built in a half-moon.’

His eyes creased into an attractive smile. ‘You mean the Royal Crescent.’

His look warmed her a little. ‘If that’s what they call it. It’s near a park as well, according to the guide book. If the weather holds fine, we could take a walk there in the afternoon.’ She sipped what remained of her wine and glanced across the room. The fender’s brasswork reflected the flickering firelight and a waiter collected plates from another table.

She looked into Lawson’s eyes. ‘My darling, I’ve had a lovely time so far …’ Her hand found his across the table and squeezed it.

‘Good. I’m glad.’

‘What about you?’

‘Well … I’ve been trying to come to terms with my new situation. Becoming a married man all of a sudden …’

She felt her pulse quicken and her face flush with apprehension. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell me you’re regretting marrying me already?’

‘Not regretting it. But it’s suddenly come as quite a shock to the system. My life will be different … I’ll have to get used to it, won’t I? I’ll have to come to terms with it.’

She frowned into her empty glass. ‘We could get unmarried, Lawson, if that’s what you want,’ she said quietly. ‘I believe you can have a marriage annulled if you haven’t consumed it.’

‘The word is consummated …’ He chuckled momentarily at her mistake, but instantly became serious again, irked by her compliant self-sacrifice. And yet, at the same time he was touched by it, for he imagined it would break her heart if she had to face such a trauma.

‘Please tell me that’s not what you want, Lawson.’

‘That’s not what I want, Daisy, be assured … Let me order you another drink. I could certainly do with one.’ He hailed a waiter. ‘Two glasses of your best brandy, my man.’

‘Brandy?’ she said. ‘You’ll have me drunk. Still, I don’t care as long as you still want me.’

‘Of course I want you.’

The soft crescent of her mouth transformed into a relieved smile. ‘I’m glad. You had me worried.’

‘Look, I haven’t married you because of some lark or some madcap bet with my friends. I’ve thought this thing through … What I wanted to say is this … As well as my love for you, I want you to understand that my being married will give me more social respectability—’

‘So you’re only interested in social esteem. You don’t really love me.’

‘Of course I love you. How many times must I tell you? But love isn’t everything. There are other considerations, less romantic, and I want you to understand them. Greater acceptance in society, by virtue of being married, is one of them.’

‘Then you should have married an heiress, not an unemployed domestic servant.’

‘Don’t demean yourself, Daisy. Yes, I know you’re neither an heiress nor the daughter of some nabob, but you have the look and the bearing. And I need you. I need you to keep me on the straight and narrow.’

‘You need me,’ she repeated with some disenchantment. She wanted him to love her, not just need her. Love must be the overriding feature of their marriage.

‘Yes. I need you. I have many faults and I’m aware of them. If you don’t know them yet, I daresay they’ll manifest themselves soon enough.’

‘Such as?’

‘I’m erratic and moody – I know this. I can be as high-spirited as a pig with a potato one day, and down in the dumps the next—’

‘Drink can do that to you. Too much drink … You do drink too much, Lawson, I hate to tell you.’

‘You’re nagging me already.’

‘I’m your wife,’ she sighed. ‘I want to help you. I want to look after you. I’m trying to keep you on the straight and narrow …’

‘But you don’t have to nag me. As I said, I know my faults.’

‘Sorry.’

‘As I was saying … I have a vile temper as well, I’m excitable, impulsive, I couldn’t care less what my friends or anybody else—’

‘Lawson, you are the most intelligent, the most generous, the nicest, the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my whole life.’

‘Yes, I’m all of those things …’ He smiled with a sham smugness that amused her, but was almost immediately sombre again. ‘I’m sometimes over-emotional. Intellect and emotions seem to rule me, Daisy. I also get very jealous, you know …’

‘You’ve no reason to be jealous where I’m concerned.’

‘No, I don’t think I have. But I want you to know what I’m like under the skin. I need you to understand me and, when you understand me, to direct me.’

The waiter brought their brandies and deposited them on the table with a flourish and Lawson thanked him.

‘You’re untidy,’ Daisy proclaimed when the waiter had gone. ‘I’ve noticed that already.’

‘And you don’t mince your words …’ He smiled again and tasted the brandy. ‘We shall have a successful marriage, Daisy, you and I,’ he said expansively. ‘You are the exact opposite of everything I am. I envy you your virtues, you know. Your innocence, your warm-heartedness, your affability … You’d give away your last penny if you thought it would help the person you were giving it to, whereas I wouldn’t – I’m far too selfish. You’re patient. I’m not. You’re organised, I’m generally in utter chaos. I’m volatile, I’ve never once seen you flustered. You’re even-tempered—’

‘I’m also free of my monthly scourge,’ she said quietly and dipped her nose into her brandy glass without looking at him.

He guffawed and his eyes brightened. ‘Then why are we sitting here? Come on, let’s go upstairs … Lord, I’ve got a stirring in my loins already. Take the brandy with you …’ He rose from his chair eagerly, then went round to Daisy and drew back her chair as she rose, a radiant smile on her face. ‘Why didn’t you say so sooner, save me rambling on the way I did.’

‘At least I know you better because of it,’ she said as she took his arm. ‘At least I know what to expect in future.’

‘Oh, ignore me, Daisy. It was the drink talking …’

They undressed by candlelight. As she lay naked in bed awaiting him, the dipping flicker of yellow light added warm colour to her pale skin and threw dancing shadows on the wall behind him as he got into the right hand side of the bed and lay beside her. At once they were in each other’s arms. He was instantly aroused as he savoured the sleekness of her body, the feel of her soft, silky skin pressed lightly against his. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience this, the very first time with a virgin wife, and he was not about to rush it.

‘Aren’t you warm enough?’ he whispered. ‘You’re trembling.’

‘I’m not cold, Lawson. Just a bit nervous, that’s all.’

‘There’s nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart. I love you. I’ll look after you.’

Her baptism of sexual experience was upon her as he traced faint lines all over her body in gentle strokes with the tips of his fingers. She shuddered with delight at the sensations and this new experience of intimacy incited a warmth of desire that welled up inside her. With his eyes shut, he found her mouth and kissed her tenderly, but eagerly and there was no mistaking his hunger, his need for her. While they kissed, his right hand explored more of her, sending fresh, delectable shivers up and down her spine. He pressed himself against her and cupped one round, yielding breast in his hand and felt her nipple harden between his fingers. Then he left a trail of kisses down her neck and across her breast till he found that nipple and nuzzled it like a suckling child.

His tongue flicked delectably across it and the sensations astonished her. She had tried to imagine all this before of course, alone in her bed in Baxter House and in the boxroom at Campbell Street. But she had not expected that his warm, firm flesh against hers would be so stimulating. She could feel that familiar wetness between her legs and, when he touched her there, she was surprised at how utterly pleasant it was. His fingers caressed her so skilfully that she could not help but utter little sighs and groans at the pleasure of it. After a while, he rolled onto her and slid down her body, leaving a moist trail of tender little bites that went rapidly cold across her belly. He slithered lower, until his face was snuggled in her dark, moist curls. His tongue lapped inside her and around her, and the sensations were mesmerising. She arched her back and held his head to draw him further into her and, when he gave her tender little bites she lay and wriggled, and gasped in a crisis of ecstasy and stupefaction. Her heart was pounding hard as he slid his body up over her again and she received his wet, lingering kiss with a hungry, open mouth. He raised himself up on his arms to relieve her of his weight, then looked down between their bodies to where he was nudging her, to where he was pressing for entry.

‘I’ll try not to hurt you,’ he breathed. ‘But it might, for a second or two.’

‘I don’t mind, my love. I want you …’

Her hands were on his hips, half expecting to have to hold him back if the pain was too great. She felt him enter, winced as he seemed to stretch her, and she whimpered at the sudden, sharp but anticipated twinge at his first gentle push.

‘I’m sorry …’ He halted.

‘No … It’s all right,’ she cooed. ‘Don’t stop … Slowly …’ Holding her breath, she gripped his buttocks and, without further thrusting, he allowed her to pull him into her at her own pace. She let out a little groan as slowly, cautiously, he filled her up. In some distant recess of her mind she could hear herself quietly sighing as she felt him moving gently inside her, against her … So this was lovemaking … This was how it felt … Well, it was not at all unpleasant, this ultimate expression of love … In fact, the longer it went on the more pleasant it became, the more heightened became her emotions … Soon, she felt Lawson pulsing within her and he let out a great grunt … and then he ceased to move any more, to her disappointment. He slumped, relaxed, spent.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked, unsure whether this was normal.

He nodded, his face in the pillow. ‘Never better.’

She hugged him. ‘Have I made you happy, Lawson? I haven’t disappointed you, have I?’

He shook his head, then rolled off her onto his back and closed his eyes. She ran her fingers gently across his chest, moist with perspiration. By the dancing candlelight she glanced adoringly at his handsome face, at his dark hair all ruffled, at his pulse beating fast in the hollow of his neck.

‘I love you, Lawson Maddox,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, I love you so much.’ She had given herself eagerly, earnestly, and now it was all over. ‘Hold me, Lawson,’ she sighed, snuggling up to him. ‘Love me …’ She wanted to share with him the spiritual closeness, this newly reinforced bond. It had been a wonderful experience, far more pleasant than she had expected.

He stirred slightly, his breathing steady as she waited for his response. She realised with frustration that he was asleep already and she drew the bedclothes up around them. She blew out the candle and lay awake for ages, overjoyed that they had consummated their marriage, that it was much nicer than she had dared hope … Yet she felt there should have been something more … She was disappointed as well that Lawson was not awake to talk about it, to tell him how she felt.

Then he stirred again.

‘Don’t forget to wash yourself out,’ he muttered, and rolled over onto his side.

Next morning they awoke early. She greeted him, her eyes bright with tenderness, her lips smiling her commitment. He made love to her again. This time, there was no lengthy foreplay to make her squirm with desire, and Lawson’s whiskery growth was scratchy against her smooth face as he thrust inside her more urgently than he had last night. But afterwards, she held him lovingly and was pleased to see him contented.

Bath was wonderful. They visited everywhere there was to visit, saw everything there was to see. That day they managed a tour of the city centre, peering in the shop windows of Milsom Street. They visited the recently discovered suite of Roman baths, they took tea in the Pump Room and tarried to listen to the fine band that played some beautifully serene music. When they had satisfied their curiosity as to the peculiar taste of the warm mineral water, they returned to their hotel and made love again.

Next day, Daisy was enchanted by the King’s Circus with its exquisite relief carvings, and thrilled to learn that some of the houses had been owned and occupied by such legendary figures as William Pitt the Elder, Clive of India and David Livingstone. They saw the Assembly Rooms, sadly dilapidated, but she imagined the genteel balls of a bygone age, the tea-parties, the card-playing. Queen Square fascinated her with its houses which were on one side the mirror images of those on the other. She was amused at the Bath chairs and the people who used them. Pulteney Bridge was a treasure trove of little shops and tea rooms that fooled her into thinking she was on a street and not walking over the river. Only when they walked along Grand Parade and she could see the bridge did she marvel at the illusion.

Every day they made love, usually more than once – at times of the day her mother would have frowned on – and Daisy was content that her husband found her so desirable. But she remained disappointed that always, afterwards, she yearned for some tenderness, some show of added affection, while Lawson always seemed oblivious to her needs, usually dozing off. When he touched her, when they laughed and teased and it was obvious they were going to make love, she was always excited, always pleased to give herself. Always there was the promise that some scandalously astounding pleasure was about to explode within her, though it had not yet. Oh, lovemaking was nice, to be sure. It made her toes curl … But surely there was more to it if what some of her friends had told her was true …

And why did he expect her to wash herself out afterwards every time? Surely he realised she wanted his children?