The Velvet Glove by Mary Williams

sudden joy of gratitude and passionate welcome, that he was on the right track.
    A challenge lay ahead of him, combining his own male existence with a satisfactory love life ending any doubts at all that his wife was his completely.
    No regrets or shadows from the past.
    No Jon.

 
     
    4
     
    The heady sweet-scented days of spring were followed by a warm summer during which Rick made considerable effort to keep Kate contented and as satisfied as possible in her limited existence due to approaching motherhood. It was not an easy period for either of them. With Rick ’s enthusiasm for his new business projects still occupying much of his mind, the effort of dealing with his wife’s ever-changing moods frequently chafed and caused an inner irritation which drove him to spending more than usual time at the stud or actively busying himself on the farm. After periods of physical activity in the open air he managed to put things into proportion and returned home ready to tackle Kate’s complaints and unpredictable bursts of quick temper with apparent equanimity.
    He thought frequently that if she had to cope with more household matters she would feel better and life would be more harmonious. But the housekeeper, Mrs Rook, whom he’d employed for years with a competent staff, made any efforts on Kate’s part in the running of the home quite superfluous. In any case, Kate was not naturally interested in everyday chores. Except for arranging flowers and other such ‘lady-like’ occupations, she was completely satisfied by her nominal status as Mistress of Woodgate and content to leave domestic matters for those employed to see things ran smoothly.
    Cassandra, on the other hand, had done her best at the beginning of her marriage to please Jon, and prove herself efficient in household management. But, with her humble background and no knowledge whatever of Wentworth standards and manner of living, Jon very quickly realized her shortcomings and insisted on employing a well-trained housekeeper with two other servants and a man, although at that period, finances were strained, and he could ill-afford the upkeep.
    His one hope was that Cassandra in time would be able to adjust better to her new role as wife – not only domestically, but in bed.
    For months he managed outwardly to stifle his disappointments – the tormenting irritations and frustrations of which Cassandra appeared completely unaware. Romantically and sentimentally she could reciprocate. But, good God, he thought frequently, surely she couldn’t be so completely ignorant of what a normal man needed and expected from a wife?
    Grudgingly, he had to admit to himself that she was very like her paintings – naive and dream-like, with a childish yet effective capacity for evading down-to-earth issues. It was as though something in her was forever ready to slip away, and escape before he had a chance to confront her with any material problem.
    In a sense this was true, though Jon had not the slightest idea of the reason. But Cassie knew; from the earliest days of her far-away childhood she had known, but had manag ed somehow to erase it from complete recognition – the terror that loomed in the past as a shadow, formless but indestructible – the ‘thing’ she could share with no one – not even Jon – especially Jon.
    So the days passed, frequently tense with expectancy for Kate, dream-like for Cassandra whose visits to the Tree Studio became more frequent causing an inner irritation to Jon who only managed with difficulty to curb outbursts of quick temper.
    Very occasionally he met Kate by chance, who by late August was wearing long capes to disguise her full figure, but Jon was not deceived.
    ‘ Are you aiming to become a nun, Mrs Ferris?’ he asked pointedly once with a slight one-sided smile.
    Kate ’s brows met crossly above her eyes.
    ‘ Are you intending to be insolent, Mr Wentworth?’
    He gave a burst of laughter, then sobered quickly. ‘Of course