The idea that a husband and wife should sleep apart is ridiculous, he rumbled. Thats for aristos, not peasants like me. He tugged on her wrist, and she had no choice but to edge back beneath the covers.
Whatever our arrangement for now, know this, Anne. You are my wife. I am your husband. We will always share a bed.
Simple words, yet her heartbeat raced when she heard them. As you like.
He released his grip on her, and exhaled. Dont like it at all. Not now. But I will ... at some point. Now sleep.
He continued to baffle her. Yet he was her husband, and according to the law and to the Church, that made him her master. Good night, Leo.
Good night, Anne.
He rolled over heavily. Within a few minutes, his breathing slowed and deepened. He slept.
Leaving her alone and awake, staring into the dark.
It didnt surprise Anne to wake up alone. She had slept alone her whole life, and to stretch in bed and find the space beside her empty was no different than any other morning. Except, as she stretched, her arms wide, her fingers did not meet the edge of the bed. And the sheets smelled of tobacco and spice, not lavender.
This was not her bed. She suddenly remembered: she was married now. Married, but a virgin. Leo had touched her, and it had been both wonderful and terrible, until fear had overtaken her with humiliating ferocity. Hed been kind, and stopped. They had then spent the whole of the night together, chaste as schoolfellows. Now he was gone.
Her eyes opened to images of menacing flowers and vines tipped with thorns. The bed hangings. She pushed the fabric back to reveal the room. Someone had come in during the early hours to tend the fire, but now Anne was by herself. The drawn curtains kept the chamber dark, and it seemed that shadows congealed in the corners, trying to take shape.
She shook her head at her foolishness. Merely an adjustment to life in a new house.
The gilt bronze clock on the mantel showed the time to be well after nine. Not an unusual time for her to awaken, but perhaps Leo liked to rise earlier. He probably waited for her to join him for breakfast downstairs. Though their marriage had begun in a rather ... unconventional manner, she did not want him thinking her indolent and spoiled. He was a man of business, of industry. As his wife, she should be just as industrious.
Anne slid out of bed. As she padded toward the closet to make use of the close stool, the chill of the floor seeped into her feet and up her legs. Baffling, that. The fire should have taken the cold from the room.
After tending to her needs and washing up, she emerged from the closet and found the curtains pulled back and an apron-wearing girl waiting for her.
Good morning, madam. The girl bobbed a curtsy. She couldnt have been more than a year younger than Anne. Im Meg, your maid.
Anne had always shared a maid with her mother, as the family could not afford the expense of two, so to have one all to herself seemed a tremendous luxury. It seemed odd, though, that Meg had appeared without being summoned. Perhaps things ran differently in a household that never went into arrears and paid their servants on time.
Has my clothing been unpacked? Nearly all of her garments had come straight from the mantua maker, but some were hers from before.
Yes, madam. Is there a particular gown you want?
Anne realized she had no idea what constituted her new trousseau. Everything had been purchased so quickly, with hardly any consultation on her part. Still, she didnt fancy the idea of the servants knowing that shed come to their master nearly penniless.
I trust you, Meg, she said.
The girl brightened and hastened to the other clothespress. Eventually, she emerged with an open gown of peach-and-green Indian cotton, as well as all necessary undergarments. Anne resisted the impulse to peer into the clothespress to see what other gowns had been purchased for her, just as she fought the urge to admire the quality and newness of the gown Meg now helped her into.
As Meg fastened the dress, Anne looked at herself in the cheval glass and felt as though she put on another womans skin. The thought made her shudder, thinking that a womans flayed body lay somewhere, its muscles and innards exposed as the corpse cooled. She had a sudden vision of an attic chamber, perhaps in this very house, where other brides bodies hung.
You havent married Bluebeard, for heavens sake.
As if to counter her own fears, she said aloud, Do hurry, Meg. I want to join my husband for breakfast.
The maid blinked up at her. Hes gone, madam.
Now it was Annes turn to look blank. Gone?
I only started working here last week, making ready for you, but the master always leaves the house by seven.
Where does he go?
To Exchange Alley, I reckon. Meg glanced at her from beneath the frill of her mob cap, perplexed by Annes ignorance
of her own husband.
Of course, Anne said, far more brightly than she felt. She pasted on a smile. Ill just take chocolate and rolls in here, then.