Oliver tapped his fingers on the carriage seat and felt the thumping of his heart in his chest. After spending so many years in the army hardly anything fazed him, but today he was nervous. Lucy was still barely talking to him after catching him giving Mary the donation and he couldn’t quite work out if she was angry because of implication that the money could replace her or angry with him for arranging a trip to see her father.
In truth, the last place he wanted to go tomorrow was Brighton. He had met Lucy’s father on three occasions: the first to ask for her hand in marriage, the second on their wedding day and the third a few months after she had disappeared. He’d travelled to Brighton to see if her family had heard from her and found the old man to be rude and condescending, but worst of all barely worried about the safety of his daughter. The older man had, however, kept his word to write every three months with any news or rumours he’d heard that might have helped Oliver in his search. In return, Oliver felt obliged to fulfil his end of the agreement and take Lucy to visit her father now he had found her.
As well as keeping a promise, the trip had another purpose. Lucy had hardly mentioned her family throughout their short marriage and he had a strange instinct that there was something she was hiding from him. He didn’t know if it was anything that might impact on their relationship, or her reluctance to have any more children, but if there was even the slightest chance it might he wanted to be fully informed. Oliver was a great believer in gathering as much information as possible before attempting a final assault.
Still, Lucy’s bizarre family and their trip to Brighton would wait until tomorrow. This afternoon he had a more important mission to complete.
‘Where are we going?’ Lucy asked. They were the first words she’d uttered to him since he’d picked her up at the end of her working day. She’d held out for an admirably long time, throughout their walk through St Giles, the carriage ride through central London and only now they were approaching the East End did her curiosity cause her to break her silence.
‘It is probably easier if I explain when we get there,’ Oliver said, knowing he was only postponing the inevitable.
Lucy fell silent, looking out of the window again as they pulled up outside a smart house with a private side entrance, one that wasn’t overlooked by the road or any neighbours.
‘Come,’ Oliver said, taking her hand and helping her down, wondering all the time if he was making a mistake.
It was late afternoon, the sun still up and the street busy, so he led her quickly to the side entrance before knocking on the door.
A well-dressed middle-aged lady opened the door and smiled warmly.
‘Lord Sedgewick, I presume this is your wife?’
Lucy shot him a questioning glance, but he just motioned for her to follow the woman inside.
They made their way through to a comfortable sitting room, with plush furnishings and dim lamps, the curtains pulled closed despite the abundance of sunlight outside the windows.
‘Can I get you some refreshments?’
Lucy shook her head, but Oliver quickly ordered tea. He wanted something stronger, but restrained himself. A clear head would be needed to navigate through the next hour.
‘I’ll bring the girls in shortly.’
‘Where have you brought me?’ Lucy rasped as the door closed behind their hostess.
‘Don’t be angry,’ he said, as the understanding blossomed in Lucy’s eyes.
‘It’s a brothel, isn’t it?’
‘A reputable one, I’m told.’
‘Is it the one you frequent?’
‘I haven’t been to a brothel since my university days,’ Oliver said honestly. He didn’t like the places, didn’t like the idea of paying a woman to do something that had no feeling behind it, no real meaning.
‘She seemed to know you.’
‘I came by earlier to arrange this meeting,’ Oliver said.
‘Why are we here?’
‘You wish to know how to prevent a pregnancy. I thought who better to ask than the women whose livelihoods depend upon it.’
‘You want me to get marital advice from prostitutes?’ Her face was incredulous.
‘I thought you’d be more likely to believe it if you heard it first-hand.’
Oliver wasn’t entirely happy to be here himself. He wanted to resume the physical side of their relationship, but his feelings about having children in the future were mixed. Of course he wanted a family, a brood of young children running around his estate, but he was convinced a pregnancy, especially this early on in their reunion, might make Lucy run away again. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the situation of a year ago. One day they would be ready to be parents again, but first they needed to be comfortable with one another, to trust one another, and despite the progress they’d made the trust still wasn’t entirely there on either side.
‘I can’t believe you’d do this,’ she hissed, glancing at the door as if contemplating escape.
‘You agreed for me to look into our options.’
‘Last night. I didn’t think we’d be sitting waiting for a horde of prostitutes the very next day.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘What exactly are you protesting about, Lucy?’ he asked. ‘My methods or the speed at which I’ve come up with an answer?’
She opened her mouth, but before she could reply the door opened again and three young women came gliding in, one carrying a tray with a pot of tea and five cups.
‘Lord Sedgewick,’ one of the women greeted him, ‘And Lady Sedgewick, we’re led to understand?’
Oliver stood. It was true he hadn’t been in a brothel or associated with any women of the profession since his university days so he wasn’t entirely sure how to act, but politeness never went amiss.
‘I’m Annabelle, this is Hetty and this is Fanny,’ the woman carrying the tray said as she began to pour cups of tea.
‘Did Mrs Gardener tell you why we are here?’ Oliver asked, taking the cup of tea that was proffered.
‘Some advice about preventing a baby,’ Fanny said bluntly.
‘Exactly. My wife is keen not to get pregnant.’
Annabelle looked at Lucy with open curiosity, then suggested, ‘Perhaps we should talk to Lady Sedgewick alone.’
Oliver shrugged. He didn’t much care how they acquired the information, he was just happy Lucy hadn’t run screaming from the house. He allowed himself to be escorted into a comfortable parlour where he was left to finish his tea in peace, all the while wondering exactly what the women were discussing in the next room.
* * *
‘How on earth did you bag him?’ Fanny asked as Annabelle re-entered the room and closed the door behind her.
‘He’s a handsome one,’ Hetty agreed. ‘Kind eyes, too. I bet he pays you well.’
‘Pays me?’ Lucy asked, taking a moment to catch up. ‘You think I’m his mistress.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t really bring his wife to see us.’
‘He has,’ Lucy said bluntly. ‘Lord Sedgewick is a singular man.’
The three women stared at her, as if still not quite believing she was Lady Sedgewick.
‘And you really want to know how to stop a baby?’ Hetty asked, suspicious.
‘Yes.’
‘Why? If that was my man, I’d get plump mothering his children,’ Fanny said.
Lucy was used to the direct way of speaking these women had from her work and found it refreshing to be among people who just asked the questions that were on their minds rather than hinting they might like to know an answer.
‘Our son died,’ Lucy said, feeling the familiar rush of sadness. She swallowed, trying to keep the emotion from her voice. ‘I can’t lose another child.’
‘Oh, you poor thing,’ Annabelle gushed, rushing over and putting an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. ‘Losing a child is the worst thing in the world.’ It was said with such feeling that Lucy wondered if the other woman had also lost a baby. She looked young, in her early twenties like Lucy herself, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t ever mothered a child. Many of their age had a brood of three or four already.
‘Lord Sedgewick is keen to resume the physical side of our relationship,’ Lucy said, ‘so that is why we’re here.’
‘And do you want him?’ Fanny asked, leaning forward as she waited for Lucy to answer. ‘If not, send him my way and I’ll keep him happy for you.’
Lucy felt a sudden rush of anxiety. When they had first reconciled she had assumed Oliver had a mistress, someone who’d kept him occupied in the bedroom during her time absent, but now she doubted it was true. The idea that he might decide to get his needs satisfied another way if she continued to refuse him was decidedly unpalatable and she felt a little swell of panic inside her abdomen.
‘Hush, Fanny,’ Annabelle said. ‘Don’t mind her. What is it you want to know?’
‘Are there ways to prevent getting pregnant?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Annabelle said. ‘Look at us, seven years we’ve been here between us, seeing a different man each night, and not a single baby in that time.’
‘How do you do it?’
‘Well, the most important thing is to never let a man finish inside you,’ Annabelle said. ‘I’m told it’s still possible to get pregnant if he finishes elsewhere, but I’ve never seen it.’
The other two women nodded in agreement.
‘Of course, persuading a man to pull back in the heat of the moment can be tricky, but I’d wager your husband is good at self-control.’
‘And some of them just like to see their seed splashed on various parts of your body.’
Lucy blushed at the vivid imagery, but nodded for the women to continue. No point becoming prudish now.
‘Some women also like to count the days of their monthly cycle,’ Annabelle said. ‘They say you are more fertile in the middle few days than at either end.’
‘And there are sheaths,’ Hetty piped up.
‘She doesn’t want to start messing around with those disgusting contraptions,’ Fanny said. ‘They’re more faff than they’re worth.’
‘Of course, if you did become pregnant there are many ways to get rid of a child before your belly begins to show,’ Annabelle said quietly.
Lucy shook her head. It was one thing preventing a pregnancy, but she doubted she would be able to end one when she already knew there was a life growing inside her. Especially if she didn’t know if the child would be healthy or not.
‘If I used these methods,’ Lucy said, feeling her resolve flicker, ‘how likely is it do you think that I would get pregnant?’
‘Unlikely,’ Annabelle said with conviction. ‘Especially if you’re just having sex once every few weeks.’
Thinking back to the first days of their marriage when they’d tumbled into bed multiple times a day, Lucy shook her head. They were both different now, changed by the time they had spent apart. It was unlikely that they would pick up the physical side of their relationship where they had left off over a year ago.
‘If he was my husband…’ Fanny started, but trailed off as Annabelle flashed her a warning look.
‘I’m sure Lord Sedgewick knows of these methods, but it’s up to you how much you tell him of what we’ve said today,’ Annabelle said quietly, patting Lucy on the hand. ‘We women don’t have control over much in our lives, but I think your husband would honour your control over your body. Not all men are so inclined.’
‘Thank you,’ Lucy said.
She finished her tea, finding it surprisingly easy to talk to the three prostitutes despite the vast differences in their social statuses. When she had finished, Annabelle left momentarily to fetch Oliver and together he and Lucy thanked the women. Oliver handed over a small sum of money for their time and they dashed back outside to the waiting carriage.
‘What did you learn?’ Oliver asked as they settled back in the seats. He’d sat next to her, probably so they could better discuss the facts Lucy had been given, but his proximity was causing her to lose her concentration.
Lucy hesitated. She didn’t know how much to tell Oliver and how much to hold back. If she admitted there were ways to drastically reduce the chance of a pregnancy then there would be no reason to stay celibate any longer. The idea both excited and scared her.
‘They suggested a couple of things,’ Lucy said. She should have felt uncomfortable discussing such private matters with her husband, but his matter-of-fact ways meant it was less embarrassing somehow.
‘What did they suggest?’
‘Apparently withdrawing before the moment of, ah…’ She trailed off, wondering how to put it politely.
‘Climax.’
Nodding, Lucy was grateful he’d stepped in.
‘Anything else?’
‘Counting days.’
‘I see. So what is your verdict?’
It felt wrong discussing such an emotional issue so bluntly.
‘Let me think about it,’ she said, relieved when he nodded and sat back.