“I’ll accompany you if you’d like,” offered Artemis, and Horatia beamed.
“That sounds like a capital idea,” said the countess. “I shall see you both anon. You’ll most probably find me in the drawing room if you need me, toasting my half-frozen toes and fingers before the fire.”
Artemis and Celeste farewelled the countess and then continued along a branch of the path that led to the observatory.
Artemis was beginning to worry that this walk would be as frosty as the wind that continued to buffet them, but then Celeste broke the stiff silence. “It’s your fault I’m here,” she said, her voice as hard as flint.
“Yes…” Artemis kept her eyes ahead. “I will readily admit that I was the one who uncovered the identity of your secret beau. And that’s why your father sent you here.”
“It was none of your business,” she shot back. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”
“Your father asked me to—”
Celeste stopped in the middle of the path and rounded on her. “What does he care?” she challenged. Her mouth was twisted with bitterness. “He’s always so busy. With his work and now with you.” She started walking again. “You’d think he’d be glad to be rid of me. I’d be one less issue for him to worry about. One less item on his endless list of things to do.”
“He loves you very much, Lady Celeste. I’m convinced he only wants what is best for you. And even though you may not believe it, I do too.”
“He wants what’s best for me,” Celeste repeated, her tone flat with resentment. “You’ve said that before, but it’s absolute rubbish. How can that be true when he takes away everyone and everything that I love? When he banishes me to the middle of nowhere indefinitely? I feel so alone, I may as well be on the moon.”
“I’m so, so sorry you feel that way,” said Artemis gently. “Being lonely is indeed a terrible thing. But surely you realize, now that you’ve had some time to reflect upon everything that has happened, that fifteen is far too young to wed, and Anthony Moretti could not have truly cared for your well-being if he had agreed to your plan to elope. He has not the means to look after you. Not in the way you are accustomed to, and it wouldn’t be long before you both regretted your decision. Even though it sounds cruel of me to say it, at your age, you know hardly anything about the world and the way it works.” She halted and when Celeste did too, she cast the girl a searching look. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being so blunt, but what if you were to get with child? You’re not even out of the schoolroom yourself.”
The duke’s daughter blushed bright red, but her eyes flashed with indignant anger as she snapped, “How dare you speak to me about such things. Besides”—her chin lifted a notch—“I know enough about how babies are made to keep me safe from such an eventuality. At least until I’m ready to have children.”
“Oh, really?” Artemis arched a brow. “And where did you learn about such things? By observing the livestock and dogs on the estate or in books by Lydia Lovelace? Your father told me he’d confiscated all of her titles,” she added gently.
“Both,” Celeste said stiffly. “And yes, he did take all of her books away after Miss Sharp found them in my room. She’s too much of a fussy busybody sometimes.”
Artemis ignored this last remark because she suspected Celeste was right. “Well, I know all about Lydia Lovelace’s books too. In fact, she is one of my favorite authors. And while her characters might make love on occasion, she uses only the vaguest of descriptions and highly euphemistic terms. Her books are definitely not supposed to be a lady’s guide to understanding how sexual congress works. She certainly doesn’t talk about how to prevent conception.”
Celeste blushed again. “I know enough,” she said mulishly.
“But I’m not sure that you do,” said Artemis. “Reading about the sexual act is one thing. Engaging in sexual intercourse and then having to deal with the consequences are quite another. For instance, have you even heard of a French letter—also known as a condom—or a sponge? Do you know about withdrawal? And that there are serious diseases such as syphilis and gonorrhea that one can contract if one happens to have intercourse with an infected person?”
Celeste turned on her heel and began walking back toward the house. “And how would you know about such things? You’re not even married,MissJones.”
“No, that’s very true,” she said. “But I’m nine-and-twenty and well educated. And when I was nineteen and made my debut…” She stopped and faced Celeste. “When I was nineteen, I met the wrong sort of man and learned about some of these things the hard way. In fact, I was very lucky that I didn’t end up with child. Even so, I wish I’d known more so that I wasn’t taken advantage of.
“Sadly, I lost my own mother when I was about your age, and as my father was a vicar—and quite a sanctimonious one at that—I had no one to teach me about men and the ways of the world. About its dangers and pitfalls. But after my one and only Season, I came across a most helpful title,Every Woman’s Book; Or, What is Love?by Richard Carlile, at my friend’s bookstore. While the book is not perfect, it does explain the nature of sexual congress and different ways to prevent conception. Perhaps one day when you’re old enough, I can lend you my copy and we can talk about it.”
Even though Lady Celeste’s face was still aflame, she inclined her head. “I–I would like that, thank you.”
By this time, they’d gained the short expanse of pristine lawn that led to the abbey’s back terrace.
“Miss Jones, do you mind if I ask, why have you never married before now? I know you met the wrong man when you were nineteen, but did you not want to wed in all of those intervening years? You are very beautiful, so I can’t imagine you haven’t had other offers.”
“Thank you for the compliment, my lady. And no, I don’t mind if you ask…” Artemis paused, trying to order her thoughts. Now that she’d begun to exchange confidences with the duke’s daughter, she was loath to let slip that she didn’t really intend to marry Dominic. “I suppose you could say I never found the right man after my first and only Season. And I wasn’t convinced that I ever would. And so, I decided to remain unwed and instead devote my time and energy to educating young women so they could have all the opportunities in life that men have. I firmly believe that knowledge is power.”
Celeste nodded. “I like your philosophy. But now that you’ve met my father, that’s all changed. The getting-married part, that is.”
“Yes…” Artemis glanced downward and focused on lifting her skirts so she could safely negotiate the terrace steps. “I’m very grateful that he supports my idea for starting a ladies’ college. Not many noblemen in his position would.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
“I think I would like to attend a college like that,” said Celeste wistfully. “I’m enjoyingJane Eyre, by the way. In fact, I’m finding it hard to put down.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” said Artemis as they stepped into a wide, stone-flagged hallway. “When you’ve readWuthering Heights, you must tell me which book you prefer. My bookish friends and I have very firm opinions on the matter.”
Celeste tugged on her bonnet strings and pulled her hat off. “I will,” she said, then pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh dear, I think I might be coming down with Miss Sharp’s cold. My head’s begun to ache frightfully and I feel quite hot, even though I’m cold.”
“Oh, no.” Artemis frowned. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have gone on that walk.”