Mr Jasper's Misunderstanding's.
It was raining.
Rose had hoped, as it was the middle of August and her wedding day, that they may be afforded some small respite from the continual drizzle. They were not. In her future home of Grineby, rain appeared to be the customary condition.
With resignation she turned her attention to her toilette. Nothing elaborate, a simple dress and matching bonnet. The world thought her a young widow with a child, and she allowed them that illusion. Henry's family had informed her of his death while serving under Wellington at Badajoz. Subsequently, her lover's haughty family discreetly disavowed their engagement. It was unfortunate that his daughter was born within a sixth month of his passing.
His fine family wanted none of her or her child.
And she wanted none of them.
Society, always less forgiving of a woman's errors than a man's, required an explanation for her child, so the subterfuge began. But maintaining a false widowhood proved difficult. Orphaned as a child, Rose had been ward to her uncle Walter. Now with a child of her own and no fortune, she was an encumbrance, her position untenable. Uncle Walter had made it very clear.
A husband must be found.
The 'man of the world' who would over look her unfortunate past, provide her and the child with a secure future, presented himself in the form of Mr. Theobald Jasper. While Mr. Jasper was gentleman of independent means and good connections, her uncle offered the pithy conjecture that he was also 'obviously not too fussy.'
Rose swallowed her pride and, at their one and only encounter, tried to smile pleasingly.
He had behaved with a grave politeness.
Not a promising beginning.
Collecting her plain summer gloves, Rose thought how much she would have liked her darling Harriet to be present at the church, but, as in all things, her uncle overruled her. Harriet should remain in her new home with her new nurse.
Rose knew it would have been unseemly to make a fuss; this was a marriage of expediency. Mr. Jasper was a man of advanced years, a full forty summers, and a widower of long standing. He would not be a man to endure the capricious, sentimental nonsense of an imprudent young woman.
But still she missed her child's impish smile.
So, in her new half mourning dress of dove grey silk, with matching bonnet, she would go to Grineby parish church and marry Mr. Jasper.
###
Theobald Jasper ordered his cravat, his valet sniffed and re-ordered it.
"It must flounce sir, flounce, not flop."
Jasper raised an eyebrow and whispered an oath. "Damn it man, it is not St James's." He accepted the freshly configured necktie with little grace. "'Tis a country church, milkmaids and the odious relatives the only guests. Mr. Brummell is hardly like to spring forth from the woodwork to critique the line of me linen!" He drew out his cuffs and shook them so they fell elegantly against the sombre black of his coat.
In truth he wanted this to be over. He was a man of moderate habits, disdaining overindulgence. It appeared to him that weddings were universally overindulgent.
To keep the tittle-tattles at bay, these nuptials would be as judiciously inconspicuous as it was practical to be. But he was still wary.
His first marriage had been a disappointment. Matilda's family had insisted the on the very epitome a modish society wedding. The guest list was extensive, composed of names mostly unfamiliar to him, predominantly his betrothed's relations. At the time he had speculated if it was entirely normal to have quite so many cousins. A shudder took him at the thought of his wife's family and their habits.
She had been a sweet enough girl, but what he had seen as charming innocence in their courtship, he soon found was in fact the blandness of a leaden mind. Conversation was dull, everything about her was dull. She lacked any spark of intellect or imagination.
Fortunately the unusual diversity of his enterprises took him away a great deal. The evading of his wife's company became a simple matter.
He was a brute and he knew it, but he never let her become aware of his true feelings. It would have been crass to do so. When she perished of the Scarlet Fever after three years of connubial tedium, he was secretly relieved. Allowing society to believe he mourned so deeply that he would never marry again, kept the predatory 'mamas' at bay.
It was a condition he had savoured.
Regrettably now he needed a wife. His elder brother had most inconsiderately died, having neglected to supply the requisite 'heir and spare'. It fell to Theobald to take on the onerous obligations of securing the Jasper line.
The chit he was to marry was personable enough. Young, with a child already, giving him a reasonable expectation of offspring. And he daresay doing his duty would not cause him too much distress.
But lordy, women could be such a trial.
###
Her wedding day almost over, Rose lay staring at the canopy above the bridal bed. Embroidered cupids hugged each other, their pink baby faces insipid, wide eyed in pretence of innocence.
Was that what Mr. Jasper thought of her? Did he notice her blushes, how she looked away when Uncle Walter made lewd remarks at the wedding supper? Of course he knew she was not chaste, her child attested to that, but did he think her worldly wise? Would he know the blush real; that her downward glance hid genuine mortification?
Did her new husband expect a woman familiar with the physical desires of men? Oh, dear God, she hoped not!
The single candle at her bedside flickered, caught by a sudden draft.
The door had opened.
Theobald Jasper coughed discreetly to determine if his bride was awake. The rustle of bed linen, and softly hesitant exhalation told him she was.
Rose lay uneasily inspecting the cupids.
"Good, you are awake...Good, good..." He paced, his long form casting an even longer shadow. "Forgive me, madam, but I would speak with you before we...er..." He coughed again, sought out words appropriate to the situation. "Before we consummate our...arrangement." He stilled at last, ramrod straight, hands held behind his back.
Rose carefully eased herself up.
"Hmm, better, better." He sniffed. "I have no wish to converse with a bed sheet."
Rose bit her lip. Mr. Jasper addressed her as if she were a naughty school girl. She felt a giggle rise in her. He was wearing his nightshirt, and probably little else. His manner seemed faintly...absurd.
"I think we should discuss expectations, yours, and of course my own. Obviously you are aware of what is about to take place." He sat abruptly on the side of the bed, his tone slightly less stern. "I mean no disrespect when I say that you being possessed of some experience in bedroom...being no weeping virgin, is a matter of great relief to me."
Rose closed her eyes and whispered, "It was once sir. I...succumbed only once."
"What?" He looked at her incredulous. "You have a child from being tupped but once?"
"Henry was...It was...a thing of sudden passion."
"He forced himself on you?"
"He persuaded me, sir." She must seem such a ninny.
"So...you have little knowledge of the act?"
"Very little." She felt herself flush, and mumbled, "Over and above the discomfort."
Mr. Jasper vigorously rubbed the bridge of his nose and frowned. "This is a dilemma." He looked about him, as if the answer to his difficulties could be found written on the furniture. Then, straightening his shoulders, he took on a look of cheerful forbearance. "Then it seems I must be your tutor. Not a situation I would have sought." He turned, studied her in the candlelight. "But not one I will protest, I think."
Leaning forward he ran a long, and surprisingly calloused, finger down her cheek. On reaching her chin, he tilted it, making her look up at him. "Do I displease you, madam?"
Rose regarded him, assessing fully. After a pause she looked demurely away. "No sir, your face...and form are...most acceptable."
Theobald Jasper had not expected so direct an answer, but it pleased him. "I am not overly fond of the shy, retiring sort. I require a partner whose sensual sensibilities equal my own." He drew closer. "I trust I may kiss you...in the appropriate manner?"
"I would expect no less, sir." She was almost indignant.
Smiling, he nudged her nose with his, touched his lips to hers.
Mr. Jasper kissed his bride.