Chapter 14: The Best-Laid Plans

The sun was high in the sky when he awoke. Harriet was sitting in a chair with some needlework, and she, too, looked rested.

“Good morning, love,” she said and beamed a smile at him. “How do you feel?”

“I’m ravenous,” he answered, aware that the throbbing pain in his leg, something to which he had become used, was absent. Yet his leg was there, as he ascertained by moving it slightly. Some discomfort was still there, but it was nothing like the kind of piercing pain that had shot through his leg whenever he moved. “My leg is much better,” he added.

As if on cue, Lucy came in.

“Good morning! I thought I’d have a look at your leg before I leave for the hospital.”

“Good morning, Lucy,” Tony answered. “How are the wounded?”

“Three men died of the gangrene yesterday,” she replied sadly. “Another one obviously died under Mr. Wilkes knife whilst he tried to amputate a mortified leg. It is so sad to see all those young men so badly wounded. But several of the men we were worried about have improved. I must tell you that sending over the ale has won you the love of everyone. I am also to relate the thanks of Monsieur Bourdichon, the French second lieutenant. He is among the wounded, and he asked me to thank you for your generosity.”

“Tell him to think nothing of it. Tell him it is no more than I would expect if I were wounded and in French hands.”

“I shall tell him, but he is grateful anyway, and rightfully so. Now about your leg.”

Lucy unwrapped the thigh to examine the wound. She bent down over the thigh to sniff and blushed furiously when she realised that she had her face almost in a man’s groin.

“Mr. Wilkes has shown me the difference between good smell and mortification,” she mumbled to hide her embarrassment. “This smells good.”

Tony tried to see the leg.

“The wound is still open?” he asked.

“Yes, and it must stay open for a few more days. Mr. Wilkes says that the wound must heal from inside. If the skin closes too early, boils can develop underneath. The pus that comes out is good for the healing. If the wound will closes before the pus stops flowing, Mr. Wilkes will have to lance it.”

Tony squirmed uncomfortably.

“How long will this take?”

“Another week perhaps, I don’t know. Mr. Wilkes should know.”

“When can I get up?”

“Not before that wound is closed, I am afraid.” She giggled. “Harriet said she would stay with you as long as she is needed. When you can get up, she will lose her justification for staying here, and we cannot have that!”

Both Harriet and Tony laughed in response. In the meantime, Lucy had replaced the bandage, and Moira joined them. Mrs. Blacket brought a hearty breakfast of fried bacon and eggs and strong coffee. He was barely finished when Mrs. Blacket announced another visitor.

“Sir Anthony, zere is a Miss Wilson, to see you.”

“Please, show her in,” he answered with some trepidation.

This could prove a prickly situation. Harriet sat upright, her hackles already raised. When Elizabeth Wilson entered, Harriet set her jaw visibly. Elizabeth looked about and she obviously felt the hostile reaction of Harriet. She spoke cautiously.

“Good morning, Sir Anthony, I came to pay my respects and to see whether there is anything I can do to assist you.”

“Good morning, Miss Wilson. This is very kind of you, but I can assure you that I am recovering already. May I introduce you to the ladies? Harriet, this is Miss Wilson, my tenant. She tailored those wonderful uniforms for me. Miss Wilson, this is my dear friend and future wife, Mrs. Harriet Palmer. Over there are Miss Lucy Gutteridge and Miss Moira McTaggart, both friends of Mrs. Palmer.”

Elizabeth turned on her charm.

“I am delighted to meet you, Mrs. Palmer, and you too, Miss Gutteridge and Miss McTaggart. Please let me know whether I may be of service to you. I am a seamstress with my own shop, and I would feel it an honour to be of your service.”

“Thank you Miss Wilson,” Harriet replied, somewhat mollified by the friendly air the young woman exuded. “I may indeed have to ask for your assistance. I thought of relieving the strict black of my dress, but I had no time to do so in London.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Elizabeth answered. “May I ask what you have in mind?”

“Some white or lilac, perhaps?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and opened them again.

“I see a black skirt. A black top with lilac piping finish on the seams to underscore your slender waist. And a white blouse, with the same lilac piping finish and a lilac bow tie.”

Harriet nodded with enthusiasm.

“Yes, I can see it. When can you take my measure?”

“Why not today? Do you want me to come here or would you rather visit my shop?”

Harriet looked at her friends.

“Shop,” Lucy said with finality. “And don’t think for one moment that we shall let you go there alone.”

Moira nodded enthusiastically, and the easy laughter that followed cleared the atmosphere. Tony was relieved.

“There is no real hurry, Miss Wilson, but I could do with two new breeches as well, and another five shirts if you find the time. Obviously, one pair of breeches was ruined by a French sharpshooter.”

“Certainly, Sir Anthony,” Elizabeth replied. The visit, done out of worry for the man she still cared for, was paying off nicely. Winning a real lady like Mrs. Palmer as a customer could help her enormously.

“How is our renegade nun?” Tony asked next.

“She is a great help, at least as long as your Mr. Little is not in town. She deserted me for the second evening yesterday. I had to hire two more helpers to cope with the business,” she ended, sounding decidedly smug. She did not try to hide the pride she felt.

“That is good to hear. I am glad for you, and I am sure that your success is well earned.”

“There is another thing, Sir Anthony. I may be able to buy my own premises. Mr. Hogsbotham has advised me, and he thinks I can easily afford it. Would you be willing to sell me the house on Mulberry Street?”

Tony considered only briefly. He had bought the house on a whim, mostly to help the young woman to whom he had taken a liking. He did not really need it.

“I shall give Mr. Hogsbotham notice that he can arrange for the transaction. How will you handle the ownership?”

“I was talking to Mr. Hogsbotham already, and he advised me that my brother, being a Navy warrant officer, can be the owner. He will also contribute to the purchase with the monies he earned.”

Tony grinned at Harriet. “You may be able to pay for the house by making dresses for Mrs. Palmer, or rather Lady Carter as she will soon style herself.”

That started laughter, and when, a few minutes later, Elizabeth Wilson left, Harriet gave her a friendly nod.

“She is nice,” Harriet stated afterwards.

The rest of the day fell into the same pattern as the one before, with Lucy and Moira visiting the wounded sailors, and Harriet sitting with Tony most of the time. Two, three and four days passed in this fashion, and Harriet realised with surprise that she had been in Portsmouth for a week. Anita Heyworth had written two letters, one for her and one for Tony. She wished Tony a speedy recovery and she thanked Harriet for keeping her informed. The tone was friendly, but seemed distant, adding to Harriet’s fear of losing Anita’s friendship.

The day, however, brought some diversion. Mr. Wilkes had allowed Tony to stand up and sit at the table during lunch and supper. Mr. Little had assisted him down the stairs and into the dining room, and Tony felt relieved to wear clothes again and to sit at a table. He had good company, too, since all three young ladies and Mr. Wilkes joined him for the noon meal. In the middle of the first course, a knock was heard from the door, and shortly after, Mrs. Blacket came in.

“Sir Richard Lambert and Lady Lambert to see you, Sir Anthony.”

“Please, show them in, Mrs. Blacket, and be so kind as to set for two more persons.”

Nadine Blacket nodded, and showed the visitors in. Tony stood up carefully on his right leg; no discomfort could keep him from maintaining his good manners.

“Lady Lambert, Sir Richard, welcome to my house. Please excuse me if I cannot come forward to greet you, but I am still somewhat limited in the use of my leg.”

“Do not trouble yourself, my dear Sir Anthony,” Sir Richard answered hastily, “we only came to ascertain that you are recovering as speedily as Harriet reported.”

“This is very kind of you, indeed. Would you care to join us for lunch? I take it you came from London this morning. You must be famished.”

Mrs. Blacket had set the additional china and silverware, and the new visitors sat down.

“This is a very nice house, Captain, and a good neighbourhood,” Lady Lambert commented. “Our good friend, Sir Charles Foster, lives just along the street, too. I take it, you like it, too, Harriet.”

Harriet, who had demonstratively moved her chair closer to Tony’s, smiled back.

“It is lovely, Mother. We have already talked about the changes we shall have to introduce for it to better suit our needs and taste.”

Lady Lambert raised her eyebrows at Harriet, and when Harriet nodded happily, she addressed her husband.

“Richard, dear, I suppose this would call for a toast to the couple, now wouldn’t it?”

Sir Richard, although somewhat slower on the uptake than his wife, finally grasped what had been transpired, and he broke into a grin whilst he raised the glass of wine he had just received.

“My ladies and gentlemen, here is to my daughter Harriet and her future husband, Sir Anthony Carter, Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath!”

Everyone but Tony drank the toast. Harriet was the quickest to grasp the implications of what her father had said.

“Really?”

The others looked at her with puzzled expressions.

“Yes,” Sir Richard answered smugly, “I have it from Castlereagh. The King has been notified already. The invitation should be here any day.”

Slowly, comprehension dawned on Tony, and it was his turn to raise his eyebrow.

“Yes, you will be made a KCB,” Sir Richard nodded. “God knows, you earned it. Of course, there is more to it. After that fiasco with Calder they need to show the public that our Navy captains still know how to fight. More is to come. But I shall not spoil the surprise.”

“Father!” Harried cried accusingly.

“What? I must leave some surprise for our good King George. Well, one thing I can tell you. You will be posted to that prize of yours. She will be renamed Asia. We did not have an Asia since the old one was broken up in ‘02. It will be two or three months, still. As long as you command the Clyde in name, young Cyril Fortescue can remain in acting command, and that is what his uncle wants. As I see it, the repairs for Calder’s ships will keep the dockyard busy for some time, and it will be a good half year for the new Asia to be refitted. This will give you enough time to settle your personal affairs,” he added with a smug smile toward his daughter.

Tony had the clear notion that Sir Richard was as anxious as he or Harriet to make sure that nothing went wrong between them. The posting to the Asia would be nice, too. She was a roomy, well-built ship. In two months, he would be a Senior Captain and eligible for such a command. Yes, the future held promise.

“I must compliment you on your appearance, Harriet,” Lady Lambert said, changing the course of the conversation. “This dress is very becoming. I have not seen it before, though?”

Harriet smiled.

“A young seamstress here in Portsmouth made it. She is wonderful; you must visit her shop, too, mother. I shall have some more dresses made in similar style.”

“I see. It is a very well made dress, and the piping finish is such a nice touch. And the same tone as the bow tie. Richard, do you think I may slip away for an hour during the afternoon?”

Sir Richard affected a groan.

“As long as I won’t have to discuss your purchases with you, go ahead and have fun.”

“Men,” Lady Lambert sighed, “they have no sense for beauty.”

“Wait,” Sir Richard protested, “didn’t I select that wonderful figurehead for the Athena?”

“Yes, you did, Richard,” his wife laughed, “and you would have been well advised so select a dress for that figurehead as well. Imagine my embarrassment when I discovered a nude female figurehead on the ship I was about to christen.”

“I can still remember poor Andrew, how he blushed when he saw it,” Harriet chimed in, “yet, he could not keep his eyes off it.”

“I believe I may have cured him of such fruitless infatuations,” Lucy stated to a chorus of good-natured laughter.

“I saw the Athena once,” Tony offered, “and I thought she had a very well proportioned figurehead.”

“Oh no,” Harriet exclaimed, “the Asia must have a female figurehead, too.”

That set off another laughter, and Sir Richard took great delight in delivering the coupe de grace.

“Perhaps you want to sit for the carver, Harriet?”

The ladies shrieked at that, throwing napkins at him.

“Richard, you are out of line,” Lady Lambert gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “I cannot imagine what poor Mr. Wilkes might think of us.”

“Don’t worry about me, Lady Lambert,” the good doctor answered, “I can use a little light-hearted conversation.”

Lunch was finished by then. The women decided on an afternoon stroll, whilst Tony, with Sir Richard and Mr. Wilkes moved into the study, where he gratefully sank into an upholstered chair, whilst Mr. Little handed out cigars and brandy. The tall African was an odd sight in his coxswain’s uniform, but Tony realised that Little, too, was in a transition, from subordinate to confidential servant. He handled the new situation very well, helping Mrs. Blacket when she asked him, but always maintaining a special standing inside his captain’s household.

The men entered into a leisurely discussion on various topics until Mr. Wilkes left for the hospital. Sir Richard then broached a sensitive topic.

“There will be a court martial against Sir Robert Calder. You may be called as witness.”

“But I was not with Sir Robert’s squadron when they engaged Villeneuve.”

“Yes, but Calder claims he was concerned about the French in Rochefort breaking the blockade. He maintains that the risk was too great following Villeneuve. We need an independent testimony regarding the situation off Rochefort. You are ideal. No blame attaches to you, and you have not been in Sir Robert’s squadron long enough to make any friends.”

“When will that court martial convene?”

“Sir Robert must be recalled from his station first. As soon as he arrives, preparations will begin. Witnesses must be assembled, too. I suspect we shall not open the trial before December. I shall preside over the court martial,” he added with a heavy sigh.

“I certainly hope to be convalescent by then.”

“We shall also hold the court martial against your surgeon. Wilful disobedience and dereliction of duty. I saw the report of young Cyril Fortescue. This will be easy to decide. Do you think you may be able to testify in a week? Such cases should be tried as fast as possible, and Clyde will be needed on her post.”

“If nothing unforeseen happens, I should be well enough in a week.”

“We can of course offer you to sit during your testimony.”

“Mr. Wilkes claims that Sykes caused more casualties than the French. Yet, he should not have been appointed to the Clyde in the first place. Who appoints those butchers anyway?”

“That is something to investigate afterwards, believe me. Somebody will have to explain himself. But enough of these matters. I take it, from what transported during lunch, that you have an interest in my daughter. Please mind that, as a widow, she is not dependent on my approval.”

“It is true, Sir Richard, that Harriet and I are fully reconciled, and we wish to marry as soon as Harriet’s obligations will allow it. Harriet’s status as a widow notwithstanding, I hope that this will meet with your approval.”

“Not only that, but it is my most fervent wish to see my daughter happy after the ordeal she went through. I, for one, and I speak for my wife, too, cannot imagine a better man for my daughter to marry.”

“Thank you, Sir Richard.”

“I am afraid, now is the point where we have to discuss your ability to maintain my daughter in suitable style.”

This, of course, meant that Tony was to lay open his financial situation.

“Apart from my salary, I have an interest in the shipping firm of Whitney & Cie in Kingston which, on the average, yields a little over £800 per annum. I own this house, and I have another £6,000 invested in the Funds, yielding £450 per year in interest. Add to that the prize money for the Alceste, and you will find me well able to entertain my future wife appropriately.”

Sir Richard was impressed.

“It is rare for a young officer to invest his gains so wisely. Well, Harriet will bring in a townhouse in London from her first marriage. And since I did not give a dowry at her first wedding, it is my pleasure to offer a small country seat on the River Thames near Maidenhead. My wife inherited it from her older brother, and it is appropriate that Harriet should have the use of it. The manor house is not too impressive, but well kept, and the lands are rather good for farming. The rent income has been satisfactory over the last years. When you will have recovered enough, you can visit the place with Harriet and decide whether you find it suitable.”

That would make Tony a “landed gentleman”, a land owner with an income from the tenants who actually worked the land. His impending elevation in the Order of the Bath and the landownership combined would ensure a prominent social position for him beyond his career in the Royal Navy. The prospect of a seat in the countryside, on a peaceful river, was also appealing. He was not so certain aboutRupert Palmer’s house; that was something Harriet and he would have to discuss.

“I am sorry,” he said, realising he had been lost in thought for almost a minute. “This is a very generous offer. Does Harriet know the place?”

“Yes, she spent two or three summers at her uncle’s, and she always loved it. That is why we thought she should have it.”

“Quite, quite,” Tony mused. “If Harriet does not object for some reason, I am content.”

“It is settled then? Wonderful! Let us have another glass of brandy then. This is good brandy, by the way.”

Tony smiled. “Mr. Fortescue secured it from the captain’s stores of the Alceste, Sir Richard. I received a whole case of it as my share.”

“I suppose now is the time for you to stop calling me ‘Sir Richard’. You’ll be my son in law in no time, and I would appreciate you calling me Richard.”

“I appreciate that, Richard. As you may know, people who know me call me Tony.”

“To your health, then, Tony! And to Harriet’s happiness!”

“I can drink to both,” Tony replied, and they both emptied their glasses.

When the women returned, both men were discussing the current naval situation. Sir Richard filled his future son-in-law in on the most recent developments. The Franco-Spanish fleet was blockaded in Cadiz by the squadron of Adm. Cuthbert Collingwood, to be reenforced by Nelson’s Mediterranean Fleet. Both men agreed that an effective blockade of Cadiz would be difficult, due to the great distance from England.

During dinner, plans for Harriet and Tony were discussed. It was clear that Harriet could not stay in Tony’s house once he had recovered from his wounds. Lady Lambert persuaded her daughter to return to London, offering to invite Tony to the Lamberts’ London home. This was the plan they agreed upon, especially since Tony had to come to London anyway.

After dinner, John Little helped his captain upstairs where he fell into a deep sleep, being thoroughly exhausted after his first day up and about.

Over the next week, Tony rapidly recovered his strength, and he was soon able to walk about his house unassisted. Mr. Wilkes left Portsmouth, together with Lucy and Moira, having finished his business with Tony, and having performed much-needed services at the Navy hospital. Lucy and Moira went ahead to prepare the house for Harriet’s return.

It was late August when Tony received a summons for the court martial of John Sykes, ship’s surgeon. The Clyde had sailed a week ago, with Cmdr. Fortescue in acting command. Fortescue had given evidence in writing.

Two days later, Captain Sir Anthony Carter, C.B., in his parade uniform, sat outside the main cabin of the Glorieux, a French prize taken at Aboukir and now serving as flagship for the port admiral. He did not have to wait too long before he was called in. The panel of judges consisted of Sir Richard Lambert, Sir Charles Foster, and three captains. Tony stated his name and rank for the protocol.

“Sir Anthony,” Admiral Lambert began the questioning, “what was your impression when Mr. Sykes reported for duty on board HMS Clyde?”

Tony cleared his throat and looked at Sykes for the first time. The man sat, sunk in a chair, with trembling hands and looked down at the deck under his feet.

“Mr. Sykes reported for duty in a quite disreputable state of dress, Sir. He smelled of ardent spirits and made the strong impression of being drunk.”

“How did you respond to this, Captain?”

“I admonished him with strong language and forbade him the use of spirits. I also placed the medicinal spirits under the care of my 1st Lieutenant, Mr. Fortescue.”

“What was your impression of Mr. Sykes from this point of time onward?”

“He appeared sober whenever I saw him, Sir. He dressed appropriately and performed his duties as surgeon to my satisfaction. I became convinced that his improper appearance had been a one-time lapse.”

“But you still did not see fit to place the stock of medicinal spirits under his care?”

“No, Sir. I thought it better not to give him temptation.”

“Can you say anything with regard to Mr. Sykes’s conduct on the day of the action between Clyde and the French line-of-battle ship, Alceste?”

“No, Sir. I had been rendered unconscious for loss of blood. When I awoke for the first time, Mr. Fortescue informed me that he had Mr. Sykes in irons for dereliction of duty.”

“Did you approve of the measure, Captain? Mr. Sykes holds officer’s rank; and it is unusual for officers to be put in irons.”

“I am afraid that I was not in a state that allowed me to ponder this question, Sir. Undoubtedly, Mr. Fortescue resorted to this course of action out of fear that members of the crew would act in revenge against Mr. Sykes if he was left unguarded.”

“Was that something to be feared?” one of the captains asked.

“Several crew members died for want of proper treatment, something for which Mr. Sykes bears responsibility. The crew was angry about that situation, no doubt. Anything can happen in such a situation, especially when a decimated crew has to sail damaged ships and watch over a large number of prisoners.”

“Thank you, Sir Anthony,” Sir Richard concluded.

Mr. Sykes “friend”, an officer appointed to represent him, stood up. He was a young lieutenant who, like Tony, was dragging a leg. Wounded and waiting for his next appointment, Tony thought.

“May I continue, Sir Anthony, or would you rather have a break?” he asked politely, watching Tony with blatant adoration.

“We can proceed, Lieutenant,” Tony answered pleasantly.

“When you forbade Mr. Sykes the consumption of spirits, Sir Anthony, did you phrase this as an order?”

Tony nodded. That was an important point.

“I explicitly told him that this was an order, to be disobeyed at his peril.”

“Thank you, Sir. Did you, at any time during the following months of service, get the impression that Mr. Sykes might be unfit for service?”

Tony pondered this question.

“He certainly was not my favourite subordinate. But in no instance did he give me sufficient reason to ask for his replacement. And I certainly did not suspect that he would indulge in spirits at the prospect of action.”

“Thank you, Sir Anthony. I have no further questions for this witness, Sir.”

Tony was excused and sat in the back of the room whilst the written depositions of Mr. Fortescue and of several other crew members were presented. Then, three wounded survivors appeared before the court martial to give evidence, and they reported that they received scant care from a surgeon who was dead drunk. In the end, the judges deliberated for barely ten minutes before they handed down their verdict.

“This court-martial,” Sir Richard read, “finds the defendant John Sykes, ship’s surgeon of HMS Clyde, guilty of violating Nºs eleven and twelve of the Articles of War as laid down by their Lordships, by disobeying a direct order from his captain and by rendering himself unfit for duty in the face of an armed enemy. The convicted is therefore sentenced to death by shooting.”

If Sykes felt anything, he did not show it. He remained slumped back into his seat, and was pulled up by the sergeant of the Royal Marines who shackled him and led him out. The judges sat with faces of stones until he had left the cabin, then the mood changed.

“An unpleasant affair, to be sure,” Sir Charles Foster exclaimed. “Can I entice you gentlemen to join me for lunch? And you, too, Sir Anthony? Mr. Galbraith?”

Tony and the young lieutenant accepted, of course. The cabin was redecorated in a hurry, and the table was set. Fresh food on board a ship was something that somehow seemed odd to most of the officers present, but the mutton roast was excellent and spirits were lifted. Tony had to relate the action with the Alceste, as far as he remembered it, and an animated discussion on the consequences of the Battle off Cape Finisterre began.

Tony returned to his house later in the afternoon. Harriet would leave the next day with her father to return to London, and she was subdued for obvious reasons. They had tea later that afternoon, when a lieutenant of the Guards called to deliver a large envelope, bearing the seal of the Royal Household.

Tony read the letter and confirmed what he already assumed.

“I am commanded to appear at St. James Palace on Friday,” he said calmly.

“Then you can travel with us tomorrow,” Harriet smiled.

Tony nodded.

“That would be pleasant. I shall have my travel gear packed.”

The rest of the afternoon, until dinner time, was spent with travel preparations. After dinner, Tony and Harriet sat in the study, planning for the next days. Around nine o’clock, they decided to go to bed, and Tony, as had become a habit, accompanied Harriet upstairs.

He kissed Harriet good night at the door of her bedroom and went back into his own. He was able again to undress by himself and happy for it. In his shirt, he climbed into his bed, and he was about to blow out the candle on the night stand, when the door opened and Harriet slipped in, wearing a nightshirt. She scooted over to his bed, carefully avoiding the floor boards which she knew would creak, and slipped under his sheet. She snuggled close to him.

“This is our last chance to be alone together for a long time,” she whispered.

Tony grinned at her in the dim light of the single candle.

“Are you taking advantage of my helpless state?” he asked with mock desperation.

Harriet snorted. “Some helpless state. What I feel down here does not seem to be helpless at all.”

“But I am,” Tony insisted, “I can’t help but touch you.”

He let action follow his words, letting his hand wander from her shoulder to her spine and down to the small of her back. When his hand began to knead her trim buttocks, Harriet hummed appreciatively and scooted up until she could kiss him. Their lips locked, and for quite some time nothing could be heard but the ever increasing breathing of the two lovers.

When Tony’s hand moved deftly under the hem of Harriet’s shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose her lower body, and caressed the soft flesh of her thighs, her breathing turned into low moans. Her own left hand sneaked under Tony’s shirt and took a firm grip of his fully erect member. The hot flesh in her hand twitched and pulsed under her grip, and Harriet felt the overwhelming urge to feel her lover’s member at her own sex. Straddling Tony’s hips, she slipped her shirt over her head. Then she lowered her sex over the swollen penis, aligning its length along her own slit. When she was finally seated, she felt the delicious pressure of Tony’s organ along her opening and at her hooded clitoris. She moved slightly, back and forth, to test the feel, and she liked what she felt. The tip of his penis pressed upwards and brushed against her most sensitive spot, and she soon immersed herself in the exquisite sensations.

Tony, too, was enraptured by the treatment he received. Harriet had matured, no doubt, he mused, and she would be a challenging lover, with a mind of her own, something he appreciated greatly in a woman. He watched with fascination how the tip of his member alternately appeared and disappeared between the moist lips of her sex. He felt the strong urge to point his member upward and spear her from below, an urge he tried to control. After all, getting pregnant during her mourning year would ruin Harriet’s reputation beyond repair.