Lessons in Pleasure

Sarah’s father and stepmother lived nearly a mile from her new home, but despite the weather, Sarah had been determined to walk. The idea of being shut in a hack in creeping traffic had made her hands tremble.

Too many words were crawling through her, too many terrors. The condition is most often hereditary.... Weakness leading to hysteria . . . slow descent into lunacy . . . confinement to an institution . . .

Sarah pressed her handkerchief to her mouth to cover her quiet sob. If she had inherited her mother’s disease, then she’d cursed James to misery. Her father had lived through it, but had lost so much of himself in the process. She could remember him in her early childhood, still garrulous and cheerful. But each month had added a new crease to his once-smooth brow. Each year had darkened his eyes. In the end . . . in the end, his grief had been more like hatred for his wife.

They had never once spoken of Sarah’s mother after her death. She did not expect he would speak of it now, but perhaps he had talked with his new wife about it. Not likely, but perhaps.

Finally, she reached her old street. She started to turn the corner, but made herself pause and wait for Betsy to catch up again. Without giving the girl time to slow her breath, Sarah rushed on. “You may rest in the kitchen while I take tea with my stepmother,” she said over her shoulder. The girl’s red cheeks wobbled when she nodded.

“Wait!” she cried when Sarah put her foot on the first step.

Sarah was so startled that she actually stopped, providing Betsy the time to rush past her and clank the knocker herself. Here was a girl with ambitions and the determination to do things right. Before her descent into madness, Sarah would have to remember to recommend her for promotion.

She actually managed a smile for that morbid thought just before the door swung open.

“Mrs. Hood!” the butler cried with far too much unseemly fondness when he spied her. But Sarah was supremely grateful for the show of affection.

“MacNeal, it is so good to see you. Is my stepmother in? I am sorry for not sending word, but I was in the neighborhood, you see, and . . .”

“Let’s just see if she’s receiving,” he offered with a wink as he waved them in. But he didn’t have to check after all, as Lorelei rushed out of the drawing room at just that moment.

“Oh, Sarah! What a lovely surprise. I’ve just poured myself a cup of tea. Will you join me?”

“I’m not intruding?”

“Of course not,” her stepmother laughed, motioning her forward.

It was still strange to think of her as a mother. Lorelei was only seven years older than Sarah and had been married to Sarah’s father for a mere five months.

Still, Sarah liked Lorelei. How could she not? Her warm smile bloomed with an ease that bespoke her kindness. Her eyes shone with calm joy. There was no doubt in Sarah’s mind why her father had chosen this new bride after so many years. Sarah couldn’t imagine anyone less inclined to melancholia or instability.

“We must have you and James over for dinner soon,” Lorelei chattered as she took a seat. “I daresay it’s been two weeks since we’ve seen you.”

“It’s my fault, of course. I keep meaning to have a small dinner party. I promise to speak with Cook as soon as I get home.”

Lorelei handed her a cup of tea, already sweetened with two lumps of sugar just as Sarah liked it. “Forgetful? Why, don’t tell me you’re feeling ill in the mornings as well?” Her eyes darted quickly to Sarah’s middle.

“Oh, no!” she protested. “Not at all.”

A moment passed. Lorelei’s smile blossomed. Her cheeks went pink. “I am!” she suddenly blurted out. “I mean . . . that is to say that I am feeling unwell in the mornings!”

“Oh?”

“We can talk about these things now, can we not? We are both old married women, after all. Oh, Sarah!” Her delighted laugh finally drove home the point that Sarah had missed.

“You are expecting?” She looked with disbelief at Lorelei’s flat stomach.

“Yes! I am so happy, and your father as well. And you, Sarah! You will be a sister!”

“A sister,” she repeated, stunned. Despite her shock, she had to grin, if only in response to Lorelei’s joy. Still, she couldn’t help but reel at the thought that her father and Lorelei had been doing the same kinds of things that Sarah and James had. And if she’d conceived, did this mean that Lorelei enjoyed the marriage bed as well? Sarah blinked and shoved the thought away. It didn’t bear thinking about.

To hide her shock, she pulled her stepmother into a tight hug. “I am so happy for you.”

“I have always wanted to be a mother,” she whispered into Sarah’s shoulder. “Always.”

“You will be wonderful.” And she would be. Nothing like Sarah’s own mother, who had spent so much time in her bed that she’d hardly seemed real.

Sarah cleared her throat as she sat back and straightened her skirts. “Have you . . . ?” She reached for her tea and took a bracing sip before she tried again. “Has my father ever spoken to you of my mother?”