‘I am very glad to hear it,’ said Martha.
‘I’m still sad about the protea though,’ said Thea, grimacing. ‘I know it wouldn’t make so much difference to how they felt about me, but I really wanted it. For myself and for Frankie.’
‘I know,’ said Martha. ‘But there will be other plants that refuse to grow, and Frankie is getting into her stride.’ She eyed Thea. ‘How does it feel? Judging yourself by your own standards rather than others?’ She looked relieved, like this was exactly the result she had hoped for.
Thea thought for a minute, looking Martha up and down. She wore a silk robe of claret and gilt that Thea hadn’t seen before and wasn’t sure why it had taken her this long to notice. Apparently, conviction in ones’ self was distracting. ‘It feels like I am a woman with new convictions,’ she said, injecting a little mischief into her voice. ‘And one of those is that I want you in my bed right now.’ Martha’s eyes lit. Thea felt a twinge of guilt. Her mood had dampened their activity between the sheets over the past few weeks but now a little stirring happened low in her belly.
‘Is that right?’ asked Martha, trying to remain sensible, Thea noticed, but failed to keep the keen grin off her beautiful face. She made towards the bed and her bare leg poked out of the robe with each step. Thea swallowed.
‘How are you so beautiful...?’ she asked, trailing off when Martha reached the side of the four poster. Martha arched an eyebrow but then came a knock at the door. Martha stepped away, and Thea sighed.
‘Surely not,’ she muttered, but then more loudly, ‘Come in.’
‘Warm water if you need it, Your Grace, and – oh.’ Mrs Phibbs, who had insisted she come with Joan to assist the Hartford party, stopped a yard into the room as she spotted Martha. ‘I am sorry Your Grace, Lady Foxmore, I hadn’t thought you might be together yet.’
Thea stifled a smile at the inference.
‘No problem at all Mrs Phibbs, I came up early. Thank you for the water.’
Mrs Phibbs bobbed. ‘And I brought you some of those pastries that you liked – snuck some up from the kitchen – thought they might be welcome.’
They were indeed. ‘Thank you.’ Mrs Phibbs placed the water jug on the dresser and the pastries on the mahogany side table before bobbing again and exiting the room, clicking the door shut behind her.
Martha sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Just me and you, then. And some pastries.’
‘It seems that way,’ smiled Thea. ‘Do you want one?’
‘Which one?’ asked Martha, sliding up the bed a little and cupping Thea’s cheek.
Thea fixed her with a cheeky grin. ‘The little curly one with the raisins and cinnamon?’
Martha looked aghast. ‘You know I despise cinnamon. And raisins in pastry? No thank you. I’d rather have the sweet onewrapped up in the blankets.’ She leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on Thea’s lips. Thea melted into it, and it deepened.
‘I think you better get in.’
Martha stood to shed her robe but then thought better of it as there was a second knock at the door. She pulled it back round herself quickly, throwing a puzzled look at Thea, who shrugged.
‘Come in,’ she said again, after ensuring they were both decent.
Mrs Jenkins’ round face appeared.
‘Ah there you are, my lady,’ she said, looking relieved as she squeezed sideways into the room, rattling tray in hand. ‘I had thought you might enjoy some evening tea and expected I might find you here when you were not in your room. Thought I might be early enough.’
There was no hint of judgement in Mrs Jenkins’ countenance, but Thea hid her face to disguise a smile as she saw Martha pink a little.
‘Thank you, Mrs Jenkins,’ managed Martha, sounding extremely collected. ‘You might as well put it with the pastries.’ She nodded to the side table by the chairs.
‘Right you are, my lady.’ She bustled over to the table and set down the tray, arranging the cups, teapot, accoutrements and pastry plates until they were to her satisfaction, and she stood back pleased, hands on hips and surveying her work. Thea glanced at Martha, who waited patiently as usual. She knew they were both wondering if they would ever get any peace other than snatched liaisons in the middle of the night.
‘Lovely,’ said Mrs Jenkins, almost to herself before turning to the bed where Thea reclined and Martha stood awkwardly. ‘Will there be anything else, my lady?’
‘That’s all, thank you, Mrs Jenkins,’ said Martha gently. ‘I will see you in my room around nine in the morning, perhaps?’
Mrs Jenkins nodded her agreement and left the room.
Martha turned to Thea. ‘That must be all of them?’
Thea shrugged. ‘The only other we brought is Fletcher and he’ll be seeing to George.’
