Petra accepted Thomas’s arm as she stepped carefully on the icy path leading from the church to the lych-gate. Thomas had joined them for Sunday Mass just as he’d promised, and Petra invited him to dinner. She’d been careful with her wages and made economies whenever possible, but yesterday she splurged on a seat of mutton and purchased a small bag of fine, white flour rather than the coarse brown kind she usually used to make bread. Maude made some mushed peas to accompany the mutton, dipping into the store of dried peas Petra kept on hand. She used bits of fat from the mutton and added hyssop, leaves of sage, and old bread to make the dish thicker and more filling. Thomas would not be terribly impressed, but at least he wouldn’t leave hungry.
Petra rose before dawn to bake a seed cake, which would be served with prunes stewed in wine and honey, for added sweetness. She’d been terribly nervous on the way to St. Leonard’s, but once she saw Thomas waiting for her just outside the church porch, she began to relax. He was dressed simply, not wishing to stand out next to Petra’s modestly-dressed family, and made much over the children after offering a deferential greeting to Maude.
“Just watch your step there,” Thomas said, and turned to Edwin who had his arm linked through that of his grandmother. “Keep a tight hold of her, Edwin. Tis slippery over yonder.”
“Yes, my lord,” Edwin replied, gripping Maude so hard she cried out. Edwin slowed his pace to match that of his grandmother, who took tiny steps, fearful of falling. At her age, bones were as fragile as twigs, and took ages to heal if broken. One of the neighbors took a fall two winters ago, and had been limping ever since, her leg not having healed properly. Maude sighed and continued forward carefully. She had no wish to become a burden to Petra, or to her future husband. Lord Thomas would be taking on enough as was, what with three children to support. He does seem besotted, Maude thought as she watched the couple. I hope Petra doesn’t frighten him off. Coyness is for young maidens, not middle-aged women, widowed, and thrice brought to child bed. It would be a rare blessing if Petra could give Lord Thomas a son, Maude mused as she finally reached the end of the path and released Edwin’s arm. A man like Lord Thomas needed a son to carry on his legacy and inherit his wealth. Maude glanced at Edwin. Perhaps he would benefit from this union if Petra failed to conceive.
You’re jumping ahead of yourself, old woman, Maude chided herself mentally. First, let’s get these two to the altar.
Her reverie was interrupted when Elia, who brought up the rear with her sister, laughed uproariously and clapped her hands with glee. Ora lost her footing and landed on her backside beside the path, her expression of embarrassment and outrage almost comical. “Serves you right,” Elia chuckled. “You needed taking down a peg or two, you stuck-up cow.”
Ora got to her feet and pushed her sister into the nearest puddle, which was just beginning to thaw in the noonday sun. Elia cried out in shock as the freezing water instantly soaked into her skirts. Ora planted her hands on her hips and glared at her sister. “Stuck up cow, is it? Well, at least I don’t look like a sow rolling in muck.”
“Girls, please,” Petra cried out, embarrassed by their unseemly behavior. Her daughters normally got along, but something had gotten into them these past few weeks, making them snipe at each other incessantly. Maude said that girls often became moody and irritable before the onset of their courses. Elia and Ora were still children at heart, but their young bodies told a different tale. Already they were changing, evolving from girls into young women, and with Petra not there to supervise and advise them, they were getting out of hand.
“Sorry, Mother,” they said in unison, their eyes downcast. It was bad enough to behave like feuding fishwives at home, but to carry on like this in front of someone of higher station was inexcusable. “Please forgive our bad manners, my lord,” Ora said, including her sister in the apology, despite the fact that she had been the one to push her into the snow. Petra gave Ora an evil look, but didn’t say anything more. She’d say her piece later, when Thomas wasn’t there to overhear it. The girls were told to make a good impression on him, and they’d just ruined everything. Perhaps that’s what they intended to do, Petra thought as she glanced at Thomas to see his reaction. If he became their stepfather, he’d have the ultimate say in everything affecting the girls, and since their experience of male authority was based only on their father, who was unjust and harsh at the best to times, they could be frightened of how their lives would be altered.
“They’re only children,” Thomas said, noting Petra’s mortified expression. “Pay them no heed. They’ll be grown women all too soon, and you’ll miss their playfulness.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Thomas. Perhaps we expect them to grow up too quickly.”
They resumed their walk, the girls now quiet and contrite as they ambled behind. Edwin was still walking with Maude, solicitous as ever, but noticeably distracted. He’d been quiet and withdrawn for the past few days, and seemed awfully eager to attend church this morning. Petra might have asked Avery if Edwin’s apprenticeship was going well, but she hadn’t seen him in over a week and was determined to maintain her resolve. Today’s dinner was crucial to her plans, since her flow was several days late. She had been late before, especially during periods of great strain, but this time it was different. She was an unmarried woman who’d lain with a man; she had every reason to worry. Petra supposed that, in a way, this was the push she needed to fully commit to Thomas. She planned to speak to him after the meal, but the children had fallen behind, and they had a few minutes of privacy before they reached the house.
“Thomas, forgive my impatience, but I have given our union much consideration and thought that perhaps we should bring the wedding forward,” Petra mumbled. She’d rehearsed her speech many times in her head, but now that the words were out, she felt embarrassed and vulnerable.
Thomas stopped and turned to face her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Is that so?” he asked, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I thought myself lucky to be invited for a meal at your house, but now I see you had a celebration of a different kind in mind all along. Shall we set a wedding date today then?”
Petra blushed furiously. Now that the deed was done, she felt an immense sense of relief. Thomas hadn’t thought her forward, nor did he hesitate in his reply. “I would like that,” Petra replied shyly.
“And when shall we marry, my sweet? I know you’re still in mourning for your husband, but I’m no longer a young man, so time is of great value to me. The sooner the better, I say,” he said, smiling into Petra’s eyes.
Had Petra genuinely mourned her husband, she would have preferred to wait the usual period of a year, which would be up in the autumn, but given her trysts with Avery, she wasn’t sure she could afford to bow to the dictates of propriety. If her courses arrived within the next week, she could wait, but if they didn’t, a speedy wedding would be best.
“Perhaps we should decide on a date once we’ve shared our intention with your family, but I think early next month would suit me very well,” Petra replied, hoping that this would be soon enough to mask a pregnancy, if there was one. Many children came early, so a seven-month baby wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows, but if they waited to marry until the end of April she would be taking too much of a risk.
“How very considerate you are,” Thomas said, linking his arm with hers once again. “I think my mother would love an excuse for hosting a feast. It’s been a long time since the house saw any merriment, and Robert would like nothing more than to toast our future happiness, again and again,” Thomas added. Robert liked his wine, and became even more boisterous with every additional cup.
Petra’s nervousness began to ebb as Thomas continued to speak of the future. She knew that Lady Blythe was not pleased with his choice of bride, but Thomas seemed certain, and that was all that mattered. An image of Avery sprang into Petra’s mind, his body silvered by moonlight as he lay next her, his face serene in repose. How happy she’d been just to gaze upon him, and drink in his beloved features, but now it would be Thomas who would be lying next to her. She did not love him, nor did her body flush with desire at the thought of sharing a bed with him, but he was an attractive man in his own right, so Petra hoped that the intimate side of the marriage would not be repulsive to her. At any rate, it couldn’t be any worse than it had been with Cyril.
Thomas had to stoop to walk beneath the low lintel, but he straightened as soon as he entered Petra’s modest home and gave her a formal bow. “Thank you for inviting me into your home, Petra. It’s an honor to be here.”
Petra playfully bowed back. The honor was hers. What had she done to deserve such a good man?