time. Jeffrey and I liked
each other at once, and I was silly enough to believe his brother
might be somewhat like him.”
“So you had no idea what sort of man your
husband was?” Tessa was intrigued. She’d had few choices of a mate
in her home in the mountains, but she knew each of them, both their
strengths and their weaknesses.
“None. It pleased my father to exercise his
right to control me in that way. William is much like him, a man
who believes women should have no thoughts of their own. He took a
wife because it’s expected of the lord of Brixton Manor. He chose
me to give him fine sons and make other men jealous.” Eleanor
looked sad at this. “I failed to produce sons for him, but I doubt
if it would have made him any happier in the end.”
“It isn’t fair you were given like a prize,”
Tessa blurted out, outraged for Eleanor.
“It’s the way of things,” Eleanor soothed,
patting Tessa’s arm comfortingly. “Still, I love Brixton. Here I
can ride, walk or boat when I like, toil in the orchards and
gardens with the workers, and—” She grinned impishly. “—avoid the
boredom of endless parties, my husband’s glowering looks, and his
frequent affairs. So you see, I have won, despite the plots of men.
I have the life I want, at least most of it, and can do as I
please.”
Tessa stared at Eleanor. Was she boasting
she had outwitted her father to become relatively free of male
influence, or was it her husband she enjoyed fooling? Did pompous
old Sir William not realize his own brother was in love with his
wife? Suddenly uneasy with the conversation, Tessa began to speak
of flowers.
Later that same week Eleanor again brought
up the subject of Tessa’s supposed failures. Although the day was
fine, Eleanor had claimed fatigue and chosen to stay in when the
others went to pick the delicate wild strawberries that made such
delicious jam. She and Tessa sat together in a small room warmed by
the afternoon sun, which Eleanor used as a sort of retreat. Under
the stone stairway and therefore not much use for any other
purpose, here she kept books and games like Tafl, which she was
teaching Tessa to play. The board that sat between them contained
carved from wood. One player had a king and only a few men to
protect him while the other had no king but more pieces with which
to capture the opposing one. It was a game of strategy, but neither
woman cared much who won or lost.
In the intervening days, Tessa had observed
Eleanor with a new perspective, and she had to admit that life on
the manor allowed activities that did not require genteel manners
or prim ways. Life here was actually the best of possibilities for
Eleanor. She was removed from the husband she did not love, and in
a place where her lover could visit without scandal. She indulged
in her enjoyment of the outdoors and was respected as lady of the
manor.
Eleanor lent a hand in whatever work was
being done on the manor. She oversaw the planting of crops, herded
cattle, and made rush-lights right along with the servants, dipping
rush tips into pitch to make cheap, if smoky, torches. She spoke
honestly with her workers and her neighbors, bargaining, mediating,
and giving orders as needed. Eleanor was as true to her nature as
could be, yet neither Tessa nor anyone else ever thought of her as
anything but a lady. New awareness of Eleanor, her mother, and
herself meant changes that left Tessa unsure of what the best
course for a female was in life, and she found herself thinking on
it often.
Now Eleanor sat still for once, her eyes a
bit cloudy and her posture less erect than usual. She really was
tired, Tessa thought, but she seemed anxious to explain what it had
taken her years to learn on her own.
“I tell you this: the secret of the tomboy
must be timing. You can be feminine and sweet, even simpering if
need be, when the situation requires it, mostly during courtship.
When you are married and secure in your future, become what you
want to
each other at once, and I was silly enough to believe his brother
might be somewhat like him.”
“So you had no idea what sort of man your
husband was?” Tessa was intrigued. She’d had few choices of a mate
in her home in the mountains, but she knew each of them, both their
strengths and their weaknesses.
“None. It pleased my father to exercise his
right to control me in that way. William is much like him, a man
who believes women should have no thoughts of their own. He took a
wife because it’s expected of the lord of Brixton Manor. He chose
me to give him fine sons and make other men jealous.” Eleanor
looked sad at this. “I failed to produce sons for him, but I doubt
if it would have made him any happier in the end.”
“It isn’t fair you were given like a prize,”
Tessa blurted out, outraged for Eleanor.
“It’s the way of things,” Eleanor soothed,
patting Tessa’s arm comfortingly. “Still, I love Brixton. Here I
can ride, walk or boat when I like, toil in the orchards and
gardens with the workers, and—” She grinned impishly. “—avoid the
boredom of endless parties, my husband’s glowering looks, and his
frequent affairs. So you see, I have won, despite the plots of men.
I have the life I want, at least most of it, and can do as I
please.”
Tessa stared at Eleanor. Was she boasting
she had outwitted her father to become relatively free of male
influence, or was it her husband she enjoyed fooling? Did pompous
old Sir William not realize his own brother was in love with his
wife? Suddenly uneasy with the conversation, Tessa began to speak
of flowers.
Later that same week Eleanor again brought
up the subject of Tessa’s supposed failures. Although the day was
fine, Eleanor had claimed fatigue and chosen to stay in when the
others went to pick the delicate wild strawberries that made such
delicious jam. She and Tessa sat together in a small room warmed by
the afternoon sun, which Eleanor used as a sort of retreat. Under
the stone stairway and therefore not much use for any other
purpose, here she kept books and games like Tafl, which she was
teaching Tessa to play. The board that sat between them contained
carved from wood. One player had a king and only a few men to
protect him while the other had no king but more pieces with which
to capture the opposing one. It was a game of strategy, but neither
woman cared much who won or lost.
In the intervening days, Tessa had observed
Eleanor with a new perspective, and she had to admit that life on
the manor allowed activities that did not require genteel manners
or prim ways. Life here was actually the best of possibilities for
Eleanor. She was removed from the husband she did not love, and in
a place where her lover could visit without scandal. She indulged
in her enjoyment of the outdoors and was respected as lady of the
manor.
Eleanor lent a hand in whatever work was
being done on the manor. She oversaw the planting of crops, herded
cattle, and made rush-lights right along with the servants, dipping
rush tips into pitch to make cheap, if smoky, torches. She spoke
honestly with her workers and her neighbors, bargaining, mediating,
and giving orders as needed. Eleanor was as true to her nature as
could be, yet neither Tessa nor anyone else ever thought of her as
anything but a lady. New awareness of Eleanor, her mother, and
herself meant changes that left Tessa unsure of what the best
course for a female was in life, and she found herself thinking on
it often.
Now Eleanor sat still for once, her eyes a
bit cloudy and her posture less erect than usual. She really was
tired, Tessa thought, but she seemed anxious to explain what it had
taken her years to learn on her own.
“I tell you this: the secret of the tomboy
must be timing. You can be feminine and sweet, even simpering if
need be, when the situation requires it, mostly during courtship.
When you are married and secure in your future, become what you
want to
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