the alternative bride 5

 

Chapter 5

 

Jane awoke, feeling as if she was anticipating something good. And then she realised! She was married to Gerard, they were in an inn, and they were most definitely sharing a bed, because his arm was over her, cupping her breast.

Jane woke up fully, and assimilated the fact that this was an actual, real, ongoing situation, not one of the vague dreams she had had, in which Gerard took her as a mistress because Madelaine had run off with Freddy.

“Gerard,” said Jane, “You are holding me incorrectly.”

Gerard awoke with a jump.

“I am sorry, mouse! I... I did not realise I was doing that.”

“But it is lopsided, and my other b...breast is jealous and cold,” said Jane.

“Oh! That  sort of incorrectly. It’s a little difficult, without you lying on one of my arms.”

“If I sat up you could encircle me properly and I would not have to look at your face and blush, but it would make the other side happier.”

A little fidgetting accommodated this position, with Jane’s back pressed to Gerard’s chest.

“I think your little monster has politely risen for a lady,” said Jane, in a small voice.

“And how,” said Gerard. “If it’s any help, my Mouseling, I am more aroused by you than by any other woman I have known; but being allowed to play with parts of you is very nice.”

“I see you have found the happy medium of how much to do to them,” said Jane. “Did you want me to move my lower body away?”

“Honestly? No. I want to feel you. But, er, perhaps you should rise and go into the dressing-room to dress, and I’ll hold a conversation with my little monster to attempt to tame him.”

“I  think that is as well; you can show me how another time,” said Jane. “How are your kidneys?”

“Better; I did not pass blood when I used the utensil a couple of hours ago,” said Gerard. “And I drank cider, which is an old sovereign cure for bruised kidneys.  Dandelion wine is best, but cider or cider vinegar is good.”

“I was a bit worried,” said Jane.

“He didn’t have the ability to hit hard enough to cause real damage, fortunately,” said Gerard. “I’ve seen a pugilist go into shock after it, and his hands and feet swelled up alarmingly, and he had seizures. He lived about a week. The man who caused it liked hurting, and I am glad to say that I beat him so badly that he will not fight again. I was very much upset to see his attitude, and I wasn’t much older than you are now. It’s one reason I worked hard, to take on the killer. He’d killed others with head blows. I broke his back in a cross-buttock throw, and I did it deliberately.”

“Well done,” said Jane. “Getting up, now.”

She padded across the room with her clothes to the dressing-room, where Alice slept. Jelves had accepted a place in the stables with the other ostlers and grooms. In the dressing room, Alice was in the process of dressing, and readily helped Jane. Jane thought there were some odd noises coming from the bedroom, but decided to ignore them. She might tease Gerard about his monster’s growls.

 

Gerard and Jane discussed an extensive breakfast, with buttered eggs, ham, bread-and-butter, pickles, cold beef, and bubble and squeak, made from the remains of the pigeons with cabbage mashed in with swede and potato and fried, with a poached egg over.

“They certainly have an abundance of eggs here,” said Jane. “It’s been a poor year, most places.”

“They keep them in the coach house and keep it well-lit,” said Gerard.  “And there’s a closed stove in there for the coachmen, and the chickens huddle around it. I asked.”

“That would help,” said Jane. “What provision do you have for your own... our own... chickens?”

“Do you know, I have no idea,” said Gerard. “But we could do worse than copy this plan.”

“Are we going to run into Whittington?” asked Jane.

“I gather his phaeton has gone,” said Gerard. “Jelves told me. I am happier not having him around, likely to cause offence.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“There’s a mantuamaker’s shop in town, I believe; we shall make a visit there, and have some nice comfortable gowns made, that suit you, and probably warmer underwear.”

“Oh, yes, I would like some lambswool invisible underwear,” said Jane. “What have I said?” Gerard was chuckling.

“I was thinking that if it was invisible, like that Spanish tale of the king’s new clothes, which were only visible if he was truly legitimate, then it might be entertaining for me,” he said.

“It is a misleading description, is it not? It is designed to be so fine as to not add too much to a lady’s profile, so it is invisible when clothes are worn over it.”

“How disappointing!” said Gerard.

“I fear such practical garb will not make your monster roar and make strange noises,” said Jane, demurely.

Gerard went scarlet.

“I apologise for being audible,” he said.

“I was wondering if it needed red meat,” said Jane.

“Red meat! Aye, but it likes its red meat live and wriggling as he devours it, you bad wench! I hope Alice was not disturbed.”

Jane blushed, but giggled.

“Alice was everything a good servant should be, and gave no sign that she heard.  Oh, and speaking of Alice, I would like her to have invisible underwear, and a thicker gown, and a good coat, hat, scarf, and gloves... and boots, too.”

“You are right, Jelves is well kitted out, but the child is not. I should have thought of that; but I am very pleased that you did. She will probably be happier with readymades or second hand; I will give her a purse to get all that is needful. I should think a pony would cover it all.”

“Six pounds for a good woollen dress, say twelve for a heavy coat, two shillings each for good hat, muffler, and gloves, as much for warm stockings over silk, because it’s worth having cheap silk under the wool, and three pounds for boots. Twenty-one pounds eight shillings; five shillings each for invisible drawers and petticoat, just shy of twenty-two. She might manage cheaper, and get better quality, too, by going second-hand, but I’d say you were right, that twenty-five pounds will cover it.”

“And anything she saves, she may keep for a further clothing allowance,” said Gerard.

 

Alice, sent off with more money than she had ever seen before, demanded her uncle’s escort.

“That much makes me come over all peculiar,” she said.

“Well, you mind you spend it on sensible clothes so you don’t freeze into an icicle up on the box, not on fancy furbelows,” admonished Jelves.

 

Jane, told to spend as much as she liked, picked a flannel, in a tartan pattern in grey, tan, and orange as her first choice, and, trying not to feel guilty, asked for it to be made up with the bodice cut on the bias, and the flounce at the bottom too, and fully ten inches deep.

“Open pelisses are worn indoors, I believe?” said Jane.

“Yes, they are very stylish, especially with Andalucian sleeves, madam,” said the modiste, who reckoned that it was a love-match, whether the couple were married or not, or the lady would be expecting to be arrayed in silks not woollens.

“I would prefer a simple Bishop sleeve, or an unslashed puff over the sleeve,” said Jane. “I want to pick some fabrics for which a single open pelisse will do, so in similar colours. If the sleeve is slashed, it means that there is one more colour to match.”

“Yes, madam, that makes sense,” said the modiste. “May I show you this carmelite-brown cassimere, which has silk threads in the weft, which have taken the dye slightly differently to give it a slight shimmer; it gives the impression of being the same colour as your hair, and will go with many other autumnal shades.”

“Yes, I like that,” said Jane. “Then I will make sure to pick other fabrics which go with it; perhaps you will snip me a sample to compare.”

Gerard sat, smiling gently, watching Jane consider fabrics, and choose what she wanted for day and walking gowns. She was much more decisive than he had known her, and knew what she wanted, now that he had suggested autumnal colours for her.

Jane picked a lutestring silk, striped in flame and olive, which gave an appearance at a distance of being tan; and nodded when the modiste suggested cutting a strip to sew into a tube as a vandyked trim, caught at each peak and trough with a small roundel  of amber and green beads.  She also picked camlet in tan and another in sage green, the silken threads of the weft adding a gleam to the fabric, and let the modiste talk her into beading the bodice of the green with cream, brown, amber, and two greens, and a silken twisted cord in cream and green a shade darker in three rows of trim from the hem to give the skirt more weight.  A spencer in dark brown superfine, frogged with amber frogging, and a shako to match, with three ostrich feathers in amber, tan, and black curling frivolously back over it, would be nice to walk out in. A three-quarter length pelisse in the same style as the spencer, but with frogging as far as the hips, and a belt would last well, thought Jane.

“I brought some gowns to ask if you could dye them, after taking off some of the excess frills,” said Jane. “They belonged to my stepsister, but there is no point wasting them. I am not fond of blue.”

The modiste shook out the three gowns Jane had brought, and blinked.

“My goodness!” she said.

“Exactly; so deedy,” said Jane.

“Do you want to keep the extra trim?” asked the modiste.

“I wondered if you could use it,” said Jane.

“Certainly; I will trade you the dyeing for the excess trim,” said the modiste. “I am thinking that they will readily become green, and perhaps I might take off all the trim and add some in cream and amber?”

“That seems very satisfactory,” said Jane. “Please add four pairs of York tan gloves, and a plain bonnet lined with cream, a dozen pairs of silk stockings, likewise of cotton, and two of lambswool; do you hold invisible drawers and petticoats?”

“No, madam, but I can have some of your size added to your parcels, to save you the trouble.”

“That will do eminently well,” said Jane. “Now to get some walking shoes and boots.”

“To be completed at your earliest convenience so we may go on,” said Gerard, pulling out a roll of soft to settle up.

A man who paid up front was going to get optimum service.

 

At the cordwainer’s shop, Jane was in luck.

“They ain’t a lady’s pair, but I’ve a finished pair of boots made for a lad who had managed to grow out of them whilst I was making them for him,” said the cobbler. “They look like they might fit you, milady, and they’re fur-lined.”

“Oooh!” said Jane. She took off her slippers and slid her feet into the boots, and smiled in bliss. “My feet are warm for the first time today,” she said. “They are, if anything, a little loose.”

“Walk for me, lady,” said the cobbler, and Jane complied.

“I’ll make you an extra lining for them, of rabbit fur,” said the cobbler. “Which you might wear if you chose at rest.”

“Oh, luxuriating in front of a fire on a chaise longue,” said Jane. She cast an impish look at Gerard. “Mending my husband’s stockings whilst he reads novels to me.”

“It sounds idyllic,” said Gerard, who would have scoffed at such an image a month before. “A gun-dog across my feet to keep mine warm, and the chuckles and gurgles of our offspring.”

“Judging by what I know of babies, from my little brother, and the tales of other girls at school, more likely to be screaming in colic and needing to be walked up and down whilst his staff wring their hands and say, ‘oh, dear, oh, dear,” said Jane.

“Pessimist,” said Gerard.

“My missus had me make a sling out o’ leather to sit the babbies in, hung from hooks on the door frame from four braided leather cords,” said the cobbler. “Babby can bounce in the sling, and jiggle all the colics out.”

“What an excellent idea! Perhaps you will make one for us, and when we have a child we can use it,” said Jane. “Unless it is too much trouble?”

“No trouble at all, milady. Now what else can I get for you? Them slippers is a bit thin.”

“I need walking shoes, and more pairs of slippers, and perhaps a couple of pairs of half-boots, in orange and brown jean,” said Jane.

“Slippers I only do plain,” said the cobbler. “And leather, jean, or nankeen. Not for balls.”

“Were you planning on going to balls?” Jane asked Gerard.

“At some point,” said Gerard. “But we can run into a big town and see what they have, or purchase some soles here and drop them back with the modiste.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” said Jane. “I’ll have some leather pumps and some soles, then.

Jane tripped out of the door first, several pairs of ready-made leather pumps in a parcel, excited by all her purchases.

It was something of a shock to come out onto the street, away from the welcoming polished leather smell of the cordwainer’s shop, to see three large, rough-looking men making their way towards her.

“She’s the wench, grab her,” said one, reaching out towards Jane, leering at her with a mouth so foul with rotten teeth, that Jane staggered from the stench of them.