Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(54)

As I rushed to dress, I asked James again about his childhood.

“I will tell you another time,” he said briskly, drawing his pants up over his shirt. His collar had doubled back, and I took the time to go over to him to fix it.

“There is nothing about you that I would not love,” I whispered and was rewarded when he pulled me to him and kissed me with such tenderness that I wept.


IN THE FOLLOWING months I cleared my schedule as much as possible so I would be available whenever James could find the time to send for me. If my husband suspected anything, he said nothing.

What I could not escape were certain weekly visits with Mother. Every Tuesday and Thursday her carriage arrived at eleven, and together we set out to satisfy our obligatory social calls. I was overflowing with love for James, and though I said nothing, Mother noted my newfound cheerfulness.

One Thursday morning, she arrived all a-flutter. “We are late,” she fussed as I climbed in. After I settled back, I pulled my new pocket watch from my reticule to check the time.

“Oh, Mother, it is as I thought. We have plenty of time.”

She noticed the glint of new silver. “How pretty! Where did you get it?” she asked, reaching her hand out to receive the watch.

“It was a gift,” I said, handing it over to her.

“From whom?” she asked.

“From one of my many admirers, Mother,” I teased.

She ignored my jest as she examined the underside of the tiny silver piece. “I’ve never seen one this delicate,” she said. She turned it around. “It has the Burton stamp. Only he could do something this fine. Was it a gift from him?”

“It was,” I said. There was something in my tone of voice, some pride, perhaps, that clearly caused her concern.

“Oh, Caroline!” she said. “You must be more careful.”

“Mother—” I began.

“No! Listen to me. This is a worldly man! You are easy prey. I know the difficulties you are having in your marriage, but you must be patient. Every day I appeal to your father to have you return home, but until he agrees, you must protect your name.”

Her words alarmed me. It was only because my husband cared so little that I was able to visit James as spontaneously as I did. That would change if I were to return to my parents’ home.

“Mother. Please! Don’t worry about me. I am fine. Can’t you see?”

“You must know how concerned I am about you,” she said.

“But you see for yourself that I am well.”

“That is my point, Caroline. As your husband’s reputation grows worse, you seem to have become happier—which, forgive me, darling, leads me to believe that you—”

“Oh, Mother! Please don’t accuse me of—”

“I am not accusing you of anything! I am only expressing my concern.”

“Well, don’t!” I spoke sharply.

“Please, dear, let us not argue,” she said, then hurriedly found another topic. “Did I tell you that I convinced your father I need six new gowns?”

I was relieved to have her change the subject and responded with a quick laugh. “Six gowns, Mother? Six!”

“That is exactly what he said. ‘If your finances cannot bear the strain,’ I said—you know how he hates me to say that—‘then I will have to make do with two.’

“?‘Mrs. Cardon!’—you know the voice he used—‘Do not imply that I cannot provide what you need! If you need six gowns, then get yourself six gowns!’ Of course I did not tell him that I intend three to go to you. How soon, dear, can you schedule the time so we might go to Geraldine for our fittings?”





CHAPTER TWENTY


1830


Caroline


JAMES AND I were lovers throughout that glorious summer and fall, but by the end of January 1830, I could no longer deny my pregnancy.

“Can’t you lace this corset tighter?” I asked Mary, my new maid.

“Begging your pardon, but I think you are already too squeezed in,” she said, coming around to the front to rest her eyes on my stomach. “You don’t want to hurt what’s in there.”

“Shhh,” I said, putting my finger to my lips. I set my hands on my expanding waist. “Can you see that I’ve gained weight?”

She gave a nod.

“Oh dear,” I said, and sat back on the edge of the bed. These past months I had ignored the cessation of my monthly flow and the increasing tenderness of my swollen breasts, but I could no longer hide the truth, especially from myself.

I was not a fool, and from the start knew a pregnancy could result, but I was so in love with James and so caught up in our passion that I refused to steal from my happiness by dwelling on a possible complication. Faced with the reality, I was not altogether unhappy. The idea of having James’s baby rather excited me. I didn’t foresee a problem presenting the child as Mr. Preston’s, and since he was not in a position to judge, I felt certain of his support.

I fully expected James to be pleased with the news, for it was, after all, his progeny. Should he have hesitation, I would assure him of my health, for I had never felt so alive. Furthermore, other than needing a few weeks for recovery following the birth, I saw no reason why the pregnancy should impact our affair. Yet before I presented James with my condition, I decided it would be helpful if I came to him with my husband’s support.