She toasted the moon and downed her whole glass in a gulp. The liqueur was, as anticipated, nasty, but she had one more, enough to soften the brittle edges inside her and put all feeling to sleep. She tucked bottle and glass behind the curtain and flopped back onto the bed.
This was Tess’s favorite way to fall asleep, her head heavy and her limbs weightless, her bitterness sweetened, her regrets wrapped in muzzy wool until they were no longer recognizable even to her. The goose-down mattress was exactly like her mind, all…fluff…
The sound of her door closing startled Tess awake. “Why?” she cried in alarm, as if the reason for this invasion bothered her more than the identity of the trespasser.
“It’s me,” said Jeanne, lingering by the door. “Can I…that is, I hoped—”
“Yes, come in, I wasn’t asleep!” cried Tess, who had been so soundly asleep that she couldn’t figure out how to sit up. She found herself in a wrestling match with the sheets. The sheets won. She settled for patting the bed beside her. “One last midnight conference before you’re married, eh? Just like old times.”
Old times, Tess realized, had been but four years ago, and it had been Tess herself who’d put a halt to the practice of creeping into each other’s beds. It would have been impossible to sneak out of the house otherwise. Still—it felt like a lifetime since then.
Jeanne timidly crossed the room, her linen chemise catching the moonlight like a ghost, and crawled into bed beside her sister. The sheets picked no quarrel with her. Tess offered her half the pillow, and they lay with their heads together in the near darkness, Tess’s dark plait beside Jeanne’s honey-colored one.
Jeanne’s hand, when it reached for Tess’s, was as cold as ice.
“I wanted to talk to you, Sisi,” she said. Over seventeen years, they’d accumulated dozens of silly names for each other, but Sisi meant Jeanne was serious.
“What is it, Nee?” They’d be using their private twin language next. Tess wasn’t sure she remembered how to speak it.
Jeanne sighed like a butterfly might have. “I need to know that you’re all right.”
Tess was so astonished by this line of inquiry that for a moment she couldn’t speak. What had she expected? An admonishment to behave herself tomorrow, maybe. “D-do you mean all right, right now,” she asked, feeling foolish, “or in some kind of cosmic sense?”
Jeanne said, “You had a headache after dinner.”
“I didn’t really,” said Tess. “I was tired of Duke Lionel droning on, is all.”
Jeanne didn’t laugh. Maybe she was smiling; it was too dark to tell. “I feared you were upset,” she said after a pause. “You’ve been so solid this week, and I appreciate how hard you’ve worked. Richard’s family likes you. I feel certain they’ll be happy to let you stay. The wedding is going to be difficult, though—on everyone, but especially you—and I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Tess’s mind had snagged on the idea that Jeanne’s in-laws-to-be liked her. She was growing increasingly sure that she didn’t like them. She’d borne the rules and formality at court for two years, but there had been a goal: to keep Jeanne looking pretty and persuade someone rich to marry her. Tess could tolerate anything if the end was in sight.
Living here among these sourpusses was the end. She’d have to be on her best behavior for the rest of her life. Whether she wanted to wasn’t the issue; she wasn’t sure she could.
“Sisi,” said Jeanne, and Tess startled as if she had fallen back asleep.
Impossible. She knew exactly what she’d been thinking. “I wasn’t asleep,” said Tess.
Jeanne inhaled slowly through her nose, and Tess realized that her sister was sniffing her minty breath. And judging it, there could be no doubt.
“My sweet, I need to hear that you’re all right,” said Jeanne.
That wording rankled. Jeanne needed to hear the magic words to assuage her conscience, did she? Oh yes, dear sister, go right ahead and get married. I’d love to be your children’s governess. I never wanted anything for myself, truly.
Bitter and ungrateful. Tess knew she didn’t deserve all the help she got.
“I don’t envy you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Tess, not lying exactly. It wasn’t envy so much as self-pity. Did that make her “all right” or not?
Jeanne exhaled. “I wouldn’t envy me, either. Have you met my mother-in-law?”
Tess couldn’t help smiling at this. “I’ll be here to shield you,” she said, squeezing her sister’s hand. “And once you start popping out the heirs, she’ll have nothing to criticize.”
Jeanne tensed. “Sisi, does…does it hurt terribly?”
“What, having a baby?” asked Tess, lolling her head in her sister’s direction. Jeanne had never asked her about that; silence had squatted between them like a toad.
“Oh. No,” said Jeanne, clearly embarrassed. “I’m certain that must hurt. Remember how Mama screamed when Neddie was born?”
Tess had an inkling what Jeanne was really asking. Somewhat cruelly, she wanted to hear her say it aloud.
“I mean…,” Jeanne began again, meaningfully. She paused as if hoping that would be enough; Tess wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “You know what I mean,” said Jeanne.
“No, indeed,” said Tess.
Jeanne elbowed her; Tess played dumb. “I mean the wedding night,” said Jeanne at last, in a voice like a terrified gnat. “Does it hurt as much as Mama always said?”
Tess had half a mind to say, I never had a wedding night, but Jeanne squirmed pitiably, making Tess relent at last. “If you mean the ‘consummation,’ as darling old St. Vitt calls it—” Tess broke off abruptly; she’d been about to answer facetiously, but another answer had leaped into her throat and was perilously close to coming out: It hurts. Every single day.
But that wasn’t the answer to Jeanne’s question. Jeanne was asking about the act itself, not…not her heart. Not her conscience, or what it felt like to see her future shattered in front of her like a mirror. Jeanne had the official sanction and blessing of both families, Heaven, the Saints; her situation was completely different.
“That doesn’t hurt,” said Tess at last. “I promise. You’ll hardly feel it.”
“But there’s supposed to be blood,” cried Jeanne, her voice nakedly afraid now.
Tess wrapped her arms around her sister, who trembled like a baby bird. “There isn’t always, even if you’re a virgin. That part is a lie. And Richard will be gentle with you, if you ask him. He loves you, Nee. I know he does. That’s what tipped the balance in his favor; otherwise I’d have urged you to accept Lord Thorsten.”