Read Online The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale by Regina Kammer - Free Book Online Page B

plots and plans, of deceit and violence, was terribly unsettling. Could she trust Mr. Bridgers? She had to. She couldn’t trust her husband, as if she ever did. The room stopped spinning but instead grew warm, too warm, flushing her skin with prickling heat. She was still wearing her heavy cloak. “Mr. Bridgers,” she said quietly, “are we to stay here? Will there be more traveling? May I remove my cloak?”
    Mr. Bridgers started. “Oh, my lady, I am sorry. Yes, please.”
    She shook out her cloak and went to hang it next to his.
    “And you must be half-starved.” He went to a cupboard on the wall opposite the hearth, the wall containing the bed. “We have a meat pie already baked for tonight,” he said over his shoulder. “I hope you don’t—”
    He did not finish his sentence. He stared at her with a noticeably panicked expression.
    “Mr. Bridgers?”
    He ran to her and took her hands. “My lady … your gown … there’s blood.”
    Clara grabbed her skirts and twisted around to look. Near her buttocks and thighs against the bright yellow of the silk was a large red stain, the edges dried brown. It was much worse than the spots she had seen that morning. “Oh, God!”
    She fell to her knees.
    * * * * *
    “Lady Strathmore,” Paul said, gently shaking her by the arms.
    She did not respond. She wobbled on her knees as she clutched at her skirt.
    “Lady Strathmore,” he tried again. “My lady … look at me, please.” He cupped her face, forcing her to look up at him. “I fear you are losing your child.”
    She sank down farther, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, God, no, no, no.”
    Paul glanced around the room frantically. He usually kept supplies in every room in order to presuppose his clients’ every need. There must be towels. Yes … the lower cupboard to the left of the hearth … near the door … easy to replenish.
    He grabbed the towels from the cupboard, went to the bed, and flung back the covers. He laid the towels on the bed three thick and doubled. He turned toward Lady Strathmore. She would have to get out of her clothes. Into a nightdress, maybe. No. Better to have her remain in her already soiled shift. Christ! He hadn’t thought this far ahead.
    She’s not one of the whores. She is simply not going to do this in my presence.
    He knelt down beside her. “Lady Strathmore, I need you to listen to me. I am going to turn my back while I make you a tea—a tea to relieve your pain—and I need you to—” Paul inhaled deeply “—I need you to take off your clothes, I mean only to your shift. You have another, do you not?”
    She roused herself. “Yes, yes. In my box.” She took his arm as he helped her stand.
    They stood for a moment facing each other, her forehead furrowed with anxiety or fear. Probably both.
    “I’ll need help with my stays,” she said.
    “I’ll unlace them. I’ve done it before.” The second he said it, Paul cringed. He quickly went to the cupboards near the hearth, searching the stock of herbs for the right remedies, pulling down the needed jars, gathering cups and spoons, mumbling the ingredients. The sounds of her undressing were unusually loud, and he tried to make as much noise as possible. He checked the kettle. The water was boiling, so he swung the pot out, perhaps with too much enthusiasm, splashing a bit on the brick floor.
    “I need your help now.”
    Her voice was plaintive, her need for him arousing. Paul tamped down his desires and turned slowly. Her back was to him. She had stripped to her under-petticoat. If she hadn’t been still half-dressed as such, Paul was not sure what he would have done. He unlaced her stays, trying desperately to keep his trembling hands from touching her body. The temptation was driving him insane.
    “All finished, my lady,” he said with an unexpected sultry tone. The words did not come out as he intended.
    “Thank you,” was all she said.
    “When you are ready, my lady, please lie on the bed over the