Chapter 5
A Preacher’s Widow
Rebecca rubbed her hands together. It was starting to get cold even though it was mid afternoon. She probably felt cold due to her damp clothes. The slight rain that had fallen the other time had wet her clothes. Harriet was standing beside her but seemed distracted by the people who passed afar. They were coming from the Earl’s funeral. Rebecca thanked her stars no one seemed to have noticed her, well, no one except Arthur. He had seen her. His surprise was so blatant.
Did he think I wouldn’t attend his father’s funeral? Does he think so low of me?
Even though the customs did not allow her access to attend his burial, Rebecca found her way in. She just had to tell the lads at the gate that she was here to see Lord Arthur Bexley.
It wasn’t a lie.
She had been here to pay her last respects. And she was also here to see Arthur. She had heard he was back and that was all she could do from running to his home to see him.
Harriet wrested her hand away from her mother’s grip and almost fell on her father’s grave.
“Be careful, Harriet,” Rebecca said.
They were here to pay respects to her late husband, a man to whom she would always be grateful. He was a man that showed her another sort of love. Of course, Harriet was too little to understand that she shouldn’t be playing on his grave. The best Rebecca could do was to prevent her from jumping on it. Rebecca looked at the headstone. She read the inscription for the umpteenth time.
Pastor John St George
A man who lived a life of impartation.
Thank you, from your wife and daughter.
The last statement meant far more than those words could be interpreted into.
“Harriet, come here,” Rebecca said.
Her daughter walked back, jumping into her arms when she got to her. Rebecca pointed to the headstone.
“This is Pastor John’s grave, Papa,” Rebecca said.
Harriet said nothing. Her expression was sombre.
“So Papa isn’t coming back,” Harriet asked in her small babyish voice.
Rebecca tried to speak, but her throat felt clogged. Her eyes threatened to tear up. Rebecca shook her head, trying to stop the tears from properly forming.
“Look at this headstone. Never forget him. Always come here and give your respect when you have time.”
“Okay Mum, I’ll do that,” Harriet said, sounding chirpy all of a sudden.
Rebecca tousled her daughter’s dark hair, roughing it up a little just to play with the girl. Harriet laughed and ran away from her mother’s grip although coming back almost immediately. Rebecca spoke quietly but enough that Harriet heard her.
“And remember darling, you are,” Rebecca said, allowing her daughter to complete the statement for her.
“I am who I am, the daughter of my father, a child of circumstance,” Harriet quoted like a rhyme.
Rebecca smiled.
Never forget that. I hope you get to use that later in the future.
She couldn’t say she regretted having Harriet because she was the best thing that ever happened to her, but things could have been much better. She had been so heartbroken when Arthur left. It still hurt like an open wound. One night they had been together, tumbling in the hay, and the next morning she woke up to hear he was gone. He didn’t send any message to her, didn’t provide any explanation, he didn’t even behave as if he was going anywhere the night before. Rebecca remembered crying herself to sleep weeks after he had gone. At that time in her life, she viewed men as the cruellest creatures on the face of the earth.
She still would have if it wasn’t for a man that raised her from her defeated state. Pastor John helped her recover and gave her moral support. He nursed her back to health without asking for anything in return. When he had asked her to marry him, Rebecca was surprised. She had not been expecting it.
“I cannot compel you to do this, Rebecca. I just felt it would be the best arrangement for the two of us,” he had said.
Rebecca looked into his eyes, searching for any signs of exploitation that she had previously missed.
Was this why you took me in?
He had helped her when going back to her parents was impossible. Was this his way of paying himself back? Rebecca said no. Marriage between both of them had never been something that she envisaged. He didn’t look deflated when she said it. In fact, he looked like he was expecting it.
“I want you to think about it. Marriage would solve a lot of our problems.”
She did think about it. It kept her up many nights and days, stealing sleep from her eyes. She would look at herself in the mirror in the mornings and shake her head. Her body was changing before her very eyes. Something needed to be done. She went back to him by the end of the week to tell him she had accepted his proposal. Pastor John St. George laughed.
“What took you so long?” he asked her.
The next week, he announced it in church, and they got married. Rebecca looked beside her to her daughter who was very interested in something on the floor. Here she was, the reason and result of the marriage. This was why she didn’t believe in many of the customs and cultures of the English gentry, so much energy is put into avoiding a scandal. For someone who criticised society so much, Rebecca shook her head, accepting her role as someone who fell into that hole and had to do what most people do to get themselves out at that time.
Rebecca raised her gaze and saw a man on a brown horse with white spots coming towards them. He might have been going towards another headstone, but Rebecca saw how his eyes focused on her. And his gait, it was so familiar. He wasn’t heading towards another headstone. He was coming to them. It was Arthur.
For someone who left home for six years, Arthur didn’t really look different. Rebecca had expected a much bigger Arthur with a new look, but the person she saw was just as familiar as the young man she made love with that night. His brown eyes were still more friendly than piercing. She remembered that any time he tried to harden them, he looked even kinder to her. She saw him looking sullen at the funeral, that persistently kind part of him was gone. He had left her for six years without sending any message. Rebecca reminded herself that no matter how cuddly he looked, he had the capacity to hurt.
The sight of him still made her heart race, though. She couldn’t stop that. Arthur was dashing handsome. Now in the black trousers that reached up to his riding shoes and the black tailcoat that extended to the sides of the horse, he was tantalising to look at. There was a familiar stirring in the pit of Rebecca’s belly, reaching downwards between her legs. It was a reminder of the gratification she experienced that night in the hay. Rebecca steeled herself, readying herself for whatever he said.
He slowed to a stop when he got a few metres away from Rebecca. Arthur alighted then tied his horse to a huge tree trunk. He smiled when his eyes met hers after alighting and started walking towards her.
“Harriet, Harriet,” Rebecca called.
The child looked up from the entity that was keeping her busy on the ground. Rebecca looked down to see what it was that held her daughter’s attention but didn’t see anything. The girl walked up to her.
“Go and play with the rest of your friends, Harriet. Don’t go too far,” Rebecca shouted.
Harriet nodded excitedly, running off to meet a group of children whose parents were still in the funeral. Rebecca watched her get into their midst, immediately becoming a part of them. She looked back at Arthur and saw he was only a few steps away from her. His uncovered dark hair glistened due to its wetness. Rebecca was tempted to walk to him and dip her face into his soft hair. She always loved the smell of his hair.
Milk and a good whiff of Bexley blood.
Rebecca smiled as she remembered their childhood joke. She would always dip her nose into his hair, always looking for a whiff. And when Arthur asked her what his hair smelled like, she would tell him milk and a good whiff of Bexley blood. It was a serious inside joke between them. They had lots of inside jokes.
Used to have lots of that, now we have nothing as far as he is concerned.
Arthur smiled when he got very close to her. His face brightened, becoming the familiar Arthur she knew.
“Rebecca, you still look amazing,” Arthur said.
His voice was deeper now. It didn’t have the high pitched tone of old. His smile wasn’t as broad now. Something had changed in Arthur.
“Arthur, oh please forgive me, My Lord, Lord Arthur Bexley,” Rebecca said, curtseying.
Arthur burst into laughter and shook his head.
“Stop such trumpery, Rebecca. I’ll always be Arthur to you,” he said.
Rebecca smiled back. It was comforting to know Arthur didn’t think himself high and mighty now because he had finally assumed his father’s position.
“I expected to see you at the funeral. I knew that even though you weren’t meant to be there, you would find a way there. Thank you for being there,” Arthur said.
Rebecca wondered why Arthur was saying this.
“The man was a father to me too, Arthur. I’m not ungrateful,” she said.
Arthur kept quiet for a while, so did Rebecca. Her last statement sounded like an indictment on Arthur too.
I’m not you.
“Is that your daughter?” Arthur asked, looking at Harriet in the midst of the rest of the children.
“Yes, her name is Harriet.”
Arthur nodded. His expression was inscrutable. Rebecca looked at her daughter and back to Arthur. Her heart ached and suffered the deflating feeling that used to torment her during the early days after Arthur left.
“She’s a lively one. She looks like you,” Arthur said.
Rebecca didn’t totally agree with that.
“Are you sure?” she asked him.
Arthur raised his brows. He opened his palms in an expression of nonchalance.
“No, I’m not. It sounded like something I was meant to say,” he said.
Rebecca chuckled and almost fell into her previous habit of falling on Arthur’s shoulders and putting her weight on him. She managed to stop herself, but by that time she was already very close to him.
He was well taller than her now. He had taken on a fairer colour while in London. She looked at her skin. Derby wasn’t known for its scorching sun, but from what she saw here, it sure had more sun than London. His eyes bored into her making Rebecca feel comfortable. Intense scrutiny from Arthur meant relaxation for her, not a feeling of being seen from inside out.
I could remain like this for the rest of the day.
Rebecca broke the eye contact. She could smell his scent, and it threatened to whirl her back to the past. The close proximity of their bodies was enough to make her skin tingle. She was reminded of the path his mouth had taken that night, from her legs through her naked trunk before resting at the peaks of her breasts. Her mouth had been kissed swollen and her crotch wet from anticipation. His lips parted slightly. Rebecca couldn’t see past the dark region between them, but her mind crafted out what was unseen. She knew his tongue and its power of pleasure and torture, how it could push her to the brink of eclipse with kisses and sucks.
His eyes twinkled, and Rebecca could swear he was thinking the exact same thing.
“Are you alright, Rebecca?” Arthur asked, breaking her from her reminisce.
Rebecca took a step away from him. She was fine, well she would be.
“Yes, Arthur, I’m good.”
She suddenly remembered the gift she had brought for him. She turned to her side and put her hand into the bag she placed on the ground. Her fingers felt around for a while before finding it. She brought it out and stretched it to him. It was a bundle of rosemary tied with a small chord of black silk. She had picked the flowers from her private collection of her flowers at home.
Rebecca felt utter satisfaction when Arthur smiled widely. It was a very earnest smile, showing the pink tongue and teeth she had been fantasising about.
“I see you still have your penchant for gardening,” Arthur said.
Rebecca nodded. Of course she still did, why wouldn’t she?
“Thank you very much, Rebecca. I can see these were personally grown by you. I wish Father was here to see this,” Arthur said.
Rebecca took a risk. She placed her gloved hand on his wrist and patted him. The gloves had no insulating effect as her breath ran faster when she touched him. The skin beneath the glove tingled like there was a swarm of unseen ants on it. Rebecca quickly withdrew her fingers from his skin. Time had not dampened the way her body reacted to him.
What of my heart? Has time dampened the way I feel for you?
Rebecca wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
“How are the Baron and your mother?” Arthur asked her.
“They are fine,” Rebecca answered.
They were. The only thing was that Rebecca and her parents weren’t as close as they used to be since Arthur left. She kept too many secrets from them, and it told on their relationship. Rebecca didn’t want to talk about it.
“How is Teresa? And Countess Eleano,” Rebecca asked.
Arthur nodded and curved his lips in a funny manner.
“Mother is fine, getting better. She was ill previously.”
Rebecca understood the words Arthur left unsaid. Arthur’s mother had always been sickly. She was actually shocked when she heard the normally healthy Earl died before his wife. No one could have thought that.
“She’ll be fine,” Rebecca responded.
“And Teresa, how do you think she is?” Arthur asked.
“Surly,” Rebecca responded, a comment that drew cahoots of laughter from Arthur and infected her too.
They were starting to draw stares from people passing. Rebecca felt uncomfortable.
“Walk with me, Rebecca,” Arthur said. He had also noticed the stares.
Rebecca was reluctant. She wanted to have her eyes on her daughter. Her reluctance must have been apparent because Arthur also looked behind him to her playing daughter.
“Nothing will happen to her. Please just walk with me, even if just for old times’ sake,” Arthur said.
Rebecca smiled and nodded. She could do a lot for old times’ sake. Arthur led her on the wide path through the trees. They were quiet. Rebecca saw that the path soon wound beyond where the headstones were. They were alone after a few minutes, only them among the tall trees. Arthur looked back as if watching to see if they were truly alone.
A few silent moments later, she felt him draw closer, and his hand gently touched, then nudged hers, communicating that he wanted to hold hers. Rebecca wanted to hold his hand too. She wanted to do more than hold his hand. She wanted to quench the thirst that rose the minute she heard in the market that Arthur was back. No one could make her body alive like him.
She accepted his request, locking their fingers as she looked at his face. He didn’t have the soft strands of hair that hardly qualified as beards that he used to six years ago. Now there were strong, dark, hardy tufts forming a small patch on his chin. There was a dark patch of bare skin on his upper lip too, surely a moustache freshly shaved. He had incredibly long hair now. Surely he had left his hair uncut, all those six years. And though he only brushed it back into a wavy, neat arrangement, she wondered how he would look with a ponytail.
Crikey! Tongues would wag. An Earl with a ponytail, the dit would have gist for a lifetime.
Rebecca laughed, that was exactly the sort of thing she would do if she was Earl. Arthur turned and looked at her, his soft brown eyes making her heart skip. His fingers were loose, comfortable in their lock with hers.
“Why the sudden laughter?”
Rebecca stopped chuckling. She wanted to tell him it was nothing, that she remembered something at home, but she changed her mind. Arthur might have hurt her, but he was back, and here with her, alone. He was once her best friend, her gossip partner, her chief opposition, and her lover. She didn’t feel good keeping anything from him.
Maybe if they hadn’t kept things away from each other, they would be married now. If he hadn’t kept the fact that he was leaving, maybe she wouldn’t have allowed him to have her that night.
“Your hair,” she said, “it’s rather long.”
Arthur patted his hair with his free left hand. The hair lowered where his hand touched it.
“Yes, I left it uncut. I wanted to have something that reminded me of home.”
“It’s long enough now,” Rebecca said.
Arthur smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“Long enough for what? A ponytail?”
Rebecca burst out laughing now.
How had he known what she was thinking?
“How did you know?” she asked.
“I didn’t, but now I do. That is the exact sort of scandalous situation your mind thinks up, anything to usurp the status quo.”
Rebecca dragged her hand from him playfully and jumped in front of him.
“Not anything to usurp the status quo, you of everybody should understand,” she said.
“I do. I just said that to rile you. You believe anyone should be able to do anything he or she wants given it doesn’t hurt the next person,” Arthur said.
“Exactly, you are still a good student,” Rebecca said, stretching to give him a teacher-like tap on his head.
Arthur turned up his nose.
“It seems there is a small mix-up as to who the teacher was and who learnt from whose feet.”
Rebecca covered her open mouth in an expression of mock surprise.
“Arthur, Lord Arthur, Lord Arthur Bexley, both of us know who will always be the teacher no matter what you are called now,” Rebecca said.
Arthur opened his eyes wide.
“What? That’s Lord Arthur Bexley for you from hence,” Arthur said.
Rebecca laughed. She held his hand again, this time taking both his hands in hers.
“You will always be Arthie to me,” she said.
Her statement yielded a tempered response from Arthur. His eyes took on a reflective state, and Rebecca was sure her words had made him go back in time. He moved closer until she could feel his breath on her face. His right hand left her hand and went behind her back. Rebecca separated her lips, cracking her mouth a little open. Her head was hot and her heart racing. She could hear its loud thumps against her ribcage. There was a loud rushing sound behind her ears, and she felt like melting into his arms.
“Rebecca,” he said in a sensual release of breath.
The feathery feel of his breath on her eyelids reminded her of that night during the ball. A small strand of dry hay had gotten into her eyes, and Arthur had kissed her eye till she felt no pain anymore.
Then he left.
Rebecca moved back from his embrace, putting enough space between them. Then she moved back to his side, taking away the tantalising threat of falling into his arms again.
“So did you enjoy your stay in London? You do seem well rested,” Rebecca said.
“London is an interesting place. It is difficult to describe my time there as a regret. It wasn’t. But if I had my way, I would never have left,” Arthur said.
“Not like that,” Arthur added, in a hushed tone, but Rebecca heard him still.
What does he mean by he would never have left? Wasn’t it his wish that he left?
Rebecca tried to, but she could not keep the confusion and pain from her voice. She was sure it was written all over her face too.
“What do you mean?” she whispered, stopping in her tracks.
Arthur stopped walking too, turning to face her.
“I should be asking you how life without Arthie felt for you,” Arthur asked her.
Rebecca felt a tear in the middle of her chest.
That was how life without you felt, pain.
She wanted to speak, but her chest was belted with agony. Her mouth heavy laden with weighty words that carried all the emotion of six difficult years. She said nothing, only managing to keep the tears from dropping.
*******
Arthur was inflamed. He had never felt as angry as this since that night his sister told him father was summoning him, since the night he was sent off to London. Now the object of his anger was different. Rebecca had the guts to ask him if he enjoyed his time in London.
London was a beautiful city with people of different breeds and thinking. But it was also the embodiment of his lost love. He hadn’t come back because of that very reason.
I had lost my love so I preferred staying far away.
When his father died, he had to come back and face his demons. Well, here she was, threatening to push him to a furious rage. He had written countless letters, none of them counted worthy of reply. He had suffered a bout of illness during his first year away that, he was sure, was very connected to the emotional turmoil he was going through. And when he found out that she had married someone else not more than three months after he left, he realised he had been building castles in the air during his time with her. Rebecca had waited for him to give her a small portion of his back before she pushed her silver stake into it. Well, she had killed him.
She had killed all the love he had for her and for Derby in all those six years. He had known he would surely come back. Of course his father would die, and he would be required to take over. But why did his mere presence in Derby ignite everything he once thought dead? When the possibility of her appearing at his father’s funeral struck him, it stuck to his mind, never for once flinching. He had seen her, chased her, and was now here with her despite his sister’s sound warning.
Sometimes, Teresa has a point. This woman in front of me has been my greatest source of pain. So why did it feel so right to hold her? Why did my mouth part with the expectation of kissing her?
“I took charge of my life. Made do with what I had,” she replied.
Arthur nodded.
You sure did make do, if that’s another way of describing quickly marrying another man, and a priest for that matter.
“Yes, I heard,” Arthur replied sarcastically.
Rebecca looked into his eyes and raised one eyebrow.
“Is something wrong?” she asked him.
Arthur shook his head.
“Nothing, nothing at all.”
He needed to get the discussion away from a touchy subject like this.
“What were you doing at the grave I met you?” he asked her.
Rebecca lowered her eyes. He noticed that she started making patterns with her feet on the soil. He would have seen the patterns clearly if not that the forest floor was riddled with leaves and small plants. He would have loved to see what her mind unconsciously wrote down.
“That is my late husband’s grave, Arthur,” Rebecca said in a much lowered tone.
Arthur cursed inside. He should have been more observant. Who else’s grave would she visit?
“I am sorry. I was so careless; I should have guessed,” Arthur said.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Arthur. He can’t be said to have lived a long life, but he lived a full life,” she said.
Arthur nodded.
“What was his profession?” Arthur asked, even though he knew what he was.
“He was a pastor.”
Arthur rubbed Rebecca’s tussled, mass of curls, hoping his actions were enough condolence from him.
“You really loved him,” Arthur said.
Rebecca finally raised her eyes to meet his. There was a wry smile on her face.
“I did. He deserved love. Why did you say that?” she asked.
“I met you at his grave. If you didn’t care for him, you still wouldn’t visit him after death,” Arthur said.
He didn’t ask her how she managed to fall in love, and so quickly too, with a far older man who wasn’t even a peer, when she couldn’t spare him three months’ patience.
“He was a good man, Arthur. He did more than can be said,” Rebecca said.
Arthur wondered how a man she had known for six years had done more for her than he whom she had known all her life. He wanted to push his pain to the back of his mind. He wanted everything said to be on a new leaf. He didn’t want to incite the demons of the yesteryears. But he discovered that some words still found their way out.
“So what was I, Miss Fitzroy? I was the man who didn’t deserve a chance,” Arthur asked bitterly.
He saw her eyes flicker. Her face showed a myriad of emotions with one overriding, hurt. He thought she’d burst out in anger and let him know what she thought. He wanted her to let him know where he had gone wrong. Instead, Rebecca said nothing. She raised her two hands to his face, cradling his head between her hands. Her fingers tickled and caressed. She moved them slowly from side to side, taking a bit of his senses away with every swipe. His member gathered weight till it was hard and heavy. Arthur quashed the temptation to wrap his hands around her bottom and pull her into his embrace, a posture all too familiar for him.
If this was them six years ago, he would have pulled her into his embrace. Pushed her against his hardness and pulled her towards him by gripping her buttocks and holding it tight. He would knead it slowly and move his fingers surreptitiously between its cheeks till he got to her wetness. Even through her dresses, he always got there. His mouth would have been busy, stealing her breath from her in a needy kiss. He loved the way she tasted, always fresh and fruity. He would suck her lips and leave them swollen before taking his mouth to her bust. He always suckled her nipples through her dress first before unclothing her to release her flawless breasts. Her pink nipples would twitch between his lips, and sometimes he sucked on the entire areola, unsatisfied with the taste of her buds alone. He would have done all this before going lower, where she usually thwarted all his attempts until that night.
The problem was this wasn’t six years ago. They were in August of 1921 now, and a lot had separated them in those six long years. Rebecca was no longer his. She was a preacher’s widow.
She slowly moved her fingers from the sides of his face to his lips, rubbing them gently. Arthur opened his mouth, and her thumb slipped in, touching his wet tongue. He closed his mouth around her thumb, drawing quiet laughter from Rebecca.
“You have something of mine in your mouth, Lord Bexley,” Rebecca said teasingly.
“I do?” Arthur wanted to ask but realised she would retract her thumb if he opened his mouth. Instead he mumbled something unrecognisable.
Rebecca laughed again. She put the fingers of her second hand on his mouth to pry his lips open. Arthur seeing his chance opened his mouth again to take in more fingers, but she was quicker and withdrew them. Rebecca fell into a fit of laughter and leaned on him, pushing herself onto his chest. Arthur blushed.
This is just like the old days.
“Mother? Ma,” a small voice said behind them.
Rebecca moved away from Arthur quickly. He turned and saw her daughter looking up to him with wonder in her eyes.
“Harriet, I thought you were still with your friends,” Rebecca said.
She walked to her daughter who stretched forth her hands to be carried. Rebecca lifted her up, resting her daughter against her bust.
“Most of them have left. And the remaining ones aren’t any fun,” Harriet replied.
Arthur stared at the child. She looked very familiar. He took his gaze to Rebecca then back to her daughter. He wondered how the clergyman would have looked, for mother and daughter to be so striking.
“Oh, okay,” Rebecca replied to her daughter.
“And asides that, I’m hungry,” Harriet whined.
She dipped her hand into her mother’s hair. Her tiny fingers disappeared in the black bush. Arthur smiled. It had been long since he had seen such companionship between mother and child.
“Then we will have to get you something to eat, won’t we?” Rebecca said.
She looked wistfully at Arthur.
“I hope we see you again, Lord Bexley,” she said.
Arthur nodded. The child raised a hand, waving goodbye to him. Arthur smiled and returned her greeting. He hoped to see Rebecca too, and her intriguing daughter.
His sister rounded the bend just as Rebecca got there. He saw their eyes meet, but their greetings were furtive as if they both would have preferred not greeting at all. Their eyes met, but it was only fleeting. Arthur could understand the coldness from Rebecca. She had a lot to be cold about.
“I have been looking all over for you. There are a lot of dignitaries that still want to see you. You should never have left,” Lady Teresa said.
She gripped Arthur’s hand very tightly and drew him away from where he stood. They overtook Rebecca who had dropped her daughter and was saying something to her. Arthur turned back to look at Rebecca again. He couldn’t take his eyes off her daughter.
“I warned you about getting in contact with this wench,” Lady Teresa said.
Arthur jerked his hand away from his sister’s grip. He felt like slapping her acerbic tongue but calmed down, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly.
“The office is not running away, Teresa. I’ll go to see them now, won’t I?” Arthur said.
Lady Teresa didn’t reply. She walked more quickly than Arthur, glancing back regularly to ensure he was behind her. Arthur saw Mr Victor waiting in the distance and quickened his steps. His body was here with them, but all of his heart was back with Rebecca and her daughter.