They did, however, share a love of learning, art, and politics. Rebecca envied the Frenchwoman's ability to live her own life and not wait on the pleasure of others. It occurred to Rebecca that European women of status were far more liberated than Americans were.
Valerie D'Estaing was also one of those people who was genuinely concerned about the welfare of others, in particular those whom she considered her friends. Among her virtues Valerie included loyalty. Thus, she had been almost as shocked as Rebecca had been when Thomas Devon died as an aftermath of Bull Run. She had stood by Rebecca at the graveside and had tried to help her work through her grief although she sometimes thought there had been more to the relationship between Rebecca and Thomas than she had known.
Valerie was gratified that her efforts at solace were starting to bear fruit. Always a slender person, Rebecca had become almost unhealthily gaunt from not eating, and had withdrawn into a world of her own. Now she was starting to eat well again and had actually gained some weight. The hollows in her cheeks had begun to fill and her eyes, always Rebecca's best feature since they were large and expressive, once again looked lively and not haunted. The results made Valerie D'Estaing extremely happy. It was time to take the next several steps to ensure Rebecca's complete recovery. Rebecca, however, had ideas of her own.
“Tell me,” Rebecca said as they strolled down Pennsylvania Avenue on a day that was bright enough and warm enough to encourage such late-December activities, “have you heard from Captain Knollys?”
Rebecca grinned as Valerie sighed emotionally. “My British lover has flown, probably never to return. I shall have to find another. Fortunately, that should not take too long with so many fine young warriors in the city. However, you may be more successful at that than I.”
Rebecca flushed. “I have never taken a lover. That is your game, dear Valerie, not mine.”
“I know. Your late husband was your first man and you went to the bridal chamber a chaste but eager virgin. But now you are a woman in every sense of the word. No one expects you to be lacking in knowledge of what goes on in bed between a man and a woman. For instance, you cannot deny that you saw your husband naked and aroused.” She had spoken in French, which Rebecca spoke fluently. It ensured that passersby on the crowded street would not overhear intriguing snippets of their conversation.
Rebecca looked away without comment. Valerie paused and put her hand on Rebecca's arm. “Dear Rebecca, are you implying by your silence that you never saw him naked in the three years of your marriage?”
Rebecca nodded and took a deep breath. Sex was something that she and Valerie had never talked about to any real degree. “Nor did he ever see me,” she admitted. Back in Boston, she had seen her younger brothers unclothed on a couple of occasions, but never her husband, and never a man aroused.
Valerie shook her head in disbelief. So many Americans were such fools. “Do you wish to talk about it?”
Rebecca did. She had married Thomas Devon when she had been twenty-five and he thirty-seven. She had done so because Thomas Devon had presented himself as a good, decent, and hardworking man who promised to honor and respect her. His proposal also relieved her of the social and emotional burden of being a spinster or old maid. Partially because of the scar on her neck, Rebecca did not consider herself a beauty, and she had no real money to speak of. She was also considered to be a little too outspoken in her zeal regarding the need to abolish slavery. This had stood her well in Boston, but not in Washington.
“I had hoped for happiness, if not romance,” Rebecca said, “but I had neither, although I suppose there was a measure of security. Thomas never loved me and never had any intention of doing so. I was a social necessity. He needed a wife and I would do.”
Valerie had known of many loveless marriages. Too bad for Rebecca, but no real surprise. She had known Thomas Devon through her husband's activities and had not liked him very much. “And you never saw each other naked?” Valerie persisted. The thought fascinated her.
“No. Let's just say he was perfunctory when it came to performing the marriage act.” In truth it had been nothing like the novels Valerie had brought with her from France and had let Rebecca read
“Let me guess,” Valerie said. “He would come at night in the dark, climb into bed, pull up your nightgown, enter you, grunt a few times, and then slip quietly back to his room.” Despite her intense embarrassment, Rebecca smiled. “It's almost as if you'd slept with him. You didn't, did you?”
“No, although I've known men like that. Did you ever try to tell him what you wanted from him?”
Rebecca shrugged. “If I'd known, I might have. I just don't think he cared. After he was hurt in battle, I found his diary and realized he had a mistress.”
The diary also detailed how Thomas Devon had been profiting illegally from purchases for the army. He had been a tool of Secretary of War Simon Cameron, and the last few pages had told of Thomas Devon's fears that he would be caught and left to hang out to dry by Cameron. Devon had joined the army to make himself a hero and insulate himself from the worst of the accusations. He hadn't counted on getting killed. After reading it, Rebecca burned it in anger and shame. Later, she realized that it might be necessary to show investigators that shed known nothing of Thomas's affairs and that the diary might have proved it. No matter. Few wives knew what their husbands did. Her assertions of innocence would be believed.
For a short while she had wondered just what to do with the money that had accrued to her from Thomas's estate, since much of it had been ill-gotten. So far she had done nothing other than live on it, and had pretty well determined that she would not return it as she had no idea where and to whom it should be returned and in what quantity.
“You poor thing,” Valerie said, interrupting her thoughts. She had known that Thomas Devon had a mistress. She was somewhat surprised that Rebecca hadn't figured it out sooner. “Tell me, didn't you ever feel the stirrings of pleasure or the feeling that you wanted more when he was doing what he wished with you?”
“Yes,” Rebecca responded thoughtfully.
“Do you think he would have done what you wished had you known what to wish for?”
“It's been far less than a year since he died, so I don't wish to speak ill of the dead, but no, I don't think so. Too late I found that he lived in his own little world and wasn't interested in mine.”
“Well then,” Valerie said happily, “let's get back to the point of finding you another man. Your presence at my soiree the other day was a clear signal that you are no longer in total mourning. Believe me: my dear departed Captain Knollys absolutely noticed, so I guess it's good that he's gone. And General Scott's friend, that Mr. Hunter, seemed interested in you. There will be a handful of other events over the Christmas holidays, and I will see to it that you are invited.”
“You're very kind,” Rebecca said. “And you're a very good friend. However, it took me all that time to find one husband, and it turned out all wrong. I'm afraid you might spend an eternity looking for a second one for me and still not do any better.”
Valerie laughed. “Once again, who said anything about a husband? Regardless, we shall ensure that the next time you take a man to bed with you, you are well prepared and knowledgeable. You will have to learn at almost thirty years of age what most Frenchwomen know at fifteen. I was taught by a friend of mine at that age. She was very helpful. I learned from her how to both give and receive pleasure.”