“It was February.”
“Oh.”
“Aye, it was so cold I can’t believe now that Mr. Miggs managed to get himself upright, if you know what I mean.”
Meggie didn’t, but nodded just the same. She drank more champagne; so did Mrs. Miggs.
“Aye, he hauled me into that field, then yanked off his coat and laid me on it. Of course the coat wasn’t big enough and my lower parts were on the bare ground. It was over in under a half a minute and I was just lying there on my back, looking up into that cold gray sky and wanting to kick him. He looked like a blissful ass, just lying there on his back, maybe he was even whistling, I forget. I didn’t say a word to him. Instead, I got up, walked back to the cart, leaving him there panting and grinning like an idiot, so happy and pleased with himself. I yelled to him that he was a selfish pig, and then I drove away.”
Meggie was vastly impressed. She applauded after she’d carefully set her champagne glass down on the wooden table. She sighed, then said, “He might have been too rough, but he did get it done, didn’t he? That first time?”
“Aye, he got it done, all right.”
“Unfortunately I can’t leave my husband. I can’t imagine that our driver would be willing to leave his master here. We’re in a carriage pulled by two horses, and unfortunately I don’t know how to drive two horses.”
Mrs. Miggs nodded. “Have some more champagne.”
“Then what happened, Mrs. Miggs?”
“Mr. Miggs had to run after me even as he was pulling up his pants, hobbling about, looking like a fool until finally I slowed down that big old mare so’s he could climb in. The dear man never tried to do that again.”
“Was it better in Fowey?”
“Oh yes. You see, Mr. Miggs had learned his lesson.”
“So you’re saying that I must tell Thomas what’s what?”
“Aye. And you must ask him why he behaved as he did. Perhaps it’s some sort of tradition for the men in his family—well, I’ve never heard of it and that’s a fact, but men being men, it’s difficult to know what they hold dear and necessary.”
“I will ask him, but you know, I would rather do something like you did, Mrs. Miggs. You took action, and that was well done of you. You taught Mr. Miggs what was what right then and there. You didn’t give him the time to roll over and snore.”
“I doubt he could have slept, it was powerful cold in that open field.”
“That doesn’t matter, it’s a mere detail. Here’s to you, Mrs. Miggs,” Meggie said, and both women drank deeply. “What should I do to my new husband? I must show him that what he did was reprehensible, after I’ve gotten all his manly reasoning from him.” Meggie rested her chin on her hands, thinking hard. She said after a moment, “I mean, perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to hit him over the head with the champagne bottle. I might kill him. I really don’t want to hang. Also, my father is a vicar and that wouldn’t look good to his bishop or to his congregation. Ah, Bishop Arlington even conducted my wedding ceremony. He would be profoundly distressed.”
“A bishop, you say? My, that’s something. No, don’t take a chance of killing him, dearie. I don’t want you dumping cold water on him either, it would ruin my good bed.”
Meggie agreed and drank until her glass was empty. She looked at Mrs. Miggs. “Nothing feels bad now,” she said and burped and smiled at the same time. “As a matter of fact, I rather think I would like to dance.”
“Drink yourself one more glass, then go back upstairs to that husband of yours.”
“But what can I do besides ask him questions?”
“Hmmm. Let me think about this, Meggie. Are you leaving in the morning?”
“I think so. He won’t tell me anything, curse his eyes. He has really quite lovely eyes, you know, all dark and brooding, but then he’ll laugh and his eyes change and dance and lighten up and flash. I don’t think he wets his finger and dampens his eyelashes to make them look longer and thicker. Many girls do that, you know. No, his are naturally thick and long. Did you remark upon his beautiful eyes when we arrived? No, well, you can remark upon them in the morning. Ah, perhaps I could take a mail coach and just go back home. I wonder if he would run after me, tugging on his trousers.” Meggie frowned. “Somehow I cannot imagine Thomas running after anything, particularly if his trousers are down.”
“No, Meggie, forget about mail coaches. They aren’t for you.”
Meggie was forced to agree. But she really didn’t feel at all bad now, didn’t feel like Thomas would be better off dead. “I can play the fiddle a bit, Mrs. Miggs. If you have one I will play for you and we could both dance.”
“I’m sorry, no fiddle, Meggie. Do you play well?”
“No, but it is at least music. I thought I loved my dratted almost cousin Jeremy just last year. Actually, I would have sworn I would love him to my deathbed just three months ago, but then he opened his mouth and out came such obnoxious condescension. I saw the real him and it wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“Cousins can get under your skin, that’s true.”
“Then he spoke to me right after the ceremony. I didn’t want him to, but he insisted. He told me it was all a ruse, a performance he’d given just for me, and he apologized and said he didn’t want me to feel badly about him anymore, that he really wasn’t a pig. He was noble, Mrs. Miggs, and for a time this afternoon, I just couldn’t bear it. I’d loved him so very much, then despised him while loving him, and then he has to tell me he was noble all along. It gave me a headache. And now Thomas is upstairs, snoring, and I’m not particularly pleased about anything right now.”