“Because of what men do,” her mother answered. “They stretch us. It’s painful.”
Stretch?Willa had also never heard talk of stretching.
“Your husband is a very big man. I fear you will experience great pain. You will bleed.”
Now she had Willa worried. She knew about a virgin’s blood, but “bleed” was more than a few drops.
“Ihateit,” her mother confessed, as if she could not prevent herself. “I’ve hated it from the very first. It is our curse to bear for being born female. I’m disgusted to think I even had to submit to it. It is vile and disgusting andsticky.”
Sticky? That seemed an odd, and unanticipated, description to Willa.
“No proper lady would enjoy it,” her mother vowed. “But here is the secret, Willa—because men don’t want their wives to complain or ask questions—I found that if I silently counted backward from one hundred, well, then it would soon be over and he would leave me alone.”
“You just lie there?”
“Of course, there is nothing else you can do. Let the duke have his way with you, and no matter what, do not complain.”
Willa swallowed. “Will I bleed every time?”
Her mother shook her head sadly. “It depends on how violent he is.”
“Violent?”
“Men stir things up.” She circled her hand over the region of her belly, an area far deeper into her body than Willa had imagined her husband would go. “It is not pleasant, Willa. No one has ever said it was. My friends and I are happy now that our husbands leave us alone.”
Willa thought of the longing looks her mother often sent in her father’s direction when he was going off for his own pursuits. Had she misread them? “Cassandra doesn’t act as if she hates it.” Then again, they had not discussed such intimate things since Cassandra married. Yesterday, they had been too busy talking about the letter Willa had sent.
“Perhaps she is with child? Men leave their wives alone once they are pregnant, for obvious reasons.”
Those reasons weren’t obvious to Willa. “The poets praise it,” she offered.
“Poems are written by men. Of course they would praise it. They don’t have to bring children into the world. They would change their tune if they did.”
“But some women have more than one child. If it is so terrible, why?”
“Those poor women are not free to say no to the men they married. Or they can be the sort of coarse creaturesyour fatherprefers. Women who are not delicate and sensitive. I didn’t raise you to be that sort.” She reached out and touched Willa’s hair. For a moment, she was the mother of Willa’s childhood. “And I pray that birthing one of Camberly’s babies doesn’t cost you your life.”
Willa almost fell off the bed at her mother’s startling announcement. She leaned forward. “I overheard you talking to your friends about this. Why should this be a fear, Mother?”
“You are petite, Willa. It is a part of nature that a ram and his dam should be well proportioned to each other. Still, it is a worry for any of us. Mr. Jamerson at the lending library just lost his wife. The baby survived, but that poor woman did not.”
“Poor Mr. Jamerson.” Willa was fond of the young man who was always a help when she searched for a book. He found the duke’s book for her.
“Yes, it is terrible. Childbirth is serious business.”
“What of Cassandra? Or Leonie?”
“It can be a danger to them as well.”
This was not news Willa wanted to hear on her wedding day.
As if seeing her distress, her mother sat beside her on the bed, covering her hand with her own. “But don’t worry. Women like Cassandra and Leonie will just pop their babies out. It is delicate flowers like yourself who should worry. And one last piece of advice, my child—”
Willa didn’t know if she wanted to hear it.
“—don’t trust your husband.Ever. His only interests are his own and never yours. Remember to expect those little betrayals and you will have a decent marriage.” She came to her feet. “Now, are you ready to leave for St. Stephen’s?”
Chapter 5
