They were of different religions. He was a marquess, of one of the great houses of England. She was the product of a ghetto, a trading house. How could he be serious? It must not be true — she must not dream — she must not dream…
Yet when she fell asleep, she did dream — that a handsome prince in blue and silver came to her, took her hand, and said, “I love you,” in a deep, exciting voice. She hated to wake up and realize it had been only a dream. She must, she really must, settle down again and be sensible. Dreams like that did not come true. She would only be hurt, if she went on like this.
CHAPTER 5
The next morning, Leah brought to Sonia in her study huge box of flowers. Sonia opened it and took out the card.
With gratitude for a lovely evening.
— Alastair Charlton
The flowers were masses of white roses and lovely starry white jasmine. She bent over them, tears springing again to her eyes. It was a conventional gesture, but how she loved it! Delicate long- stemmed white roses, and the fragrant delicate jasmine…
Leah looked satisfied and yet troubled all at once, as she brought two vases of blue porcelain to hold the flowers. Sonia arranged them, managed to say brightly, “How kind of the marquess! It was most thoughtful.”
Leah gave her a keen look. She knew Sonia better than anyone else did in the world. “Yes, most kind,” said Leah in a bland voice that meant she was thinking deeply.
Sonia did her sketching that morning, but her gaze kept drifting to the glorious blooms on her table. The scents were pervasive, like a memory of something beautiful. Her mind kept going back to the evening, his gentleness and protective manner, the joy of sharing the emotions of the singing. They were alike in their tastes. How strange it was.
Jacob and Beryl, Abner and Bettina invited her out with them several evenings later. They were to attend a serious drama, and she looked forward to it eagerly. Bettina could whine, but she was a good judge of theatre and an intelligent critic. It could be a delightful evening.
The four of them came for her promptly. Jacob was always on time, or ahead of time. He was teased for it, but all respected him. He was much like his father. Beryl praised Sonia’s gown rapturously.
“How beautiful you look, dear Sonia! The blue satin, the swansdown trim, your diamonds! They set you off, like one of your jewellery designs!”
Sonia smiled, but was pleased by the compliment. The men said little, but stared at their “little sister” complacently. Bettina began to say that she, too, could look splendid had she but the money to spend on dresses and jewels. Beryl said sweetly, “But you have as much as Sonia, I know, because Papa said so.”
Sonia changed the subject hastily. She did not want to start the evening with a quarrel. They hurried out to the carriages, setting out early for the theatre. Jacob had obtained a fine box near the stage, so they had little need of their exquisite opera glasses. They were so close they could see the faces clearly, and, more important, hear the lines distinctly.
They were early enough to be able to settle in their box seats, watch the audience coming in, and comment on the gowns, who was with whom — all the latest gossip. Bettina followed the tattling in the gazettes quite avidly, and would expound on it if encouraged.
“Oh, there is Mrs Porter,” she exclaimed under her breath, leaning past Sonia to point with her opera glasses. “You have heard of her? A recent widow, the woman in the green satin and emeralds. There, with the blonde hair.”
Sonia glanced at the woman, away again, then at her again. She stood regally in the box across from them, smiling at some remark made to her by one of three gentlemen with her. A rather dowdy woman stood behind the group.
“So that is Mrs Porter,” breathed Jacob, unusually curious. “One wonders what Lord Fairley sees in her. They say he escorts her everywhere.”
Blood rushed to Sonia’s head, there was a queer ringing in her ears. Mrs Daphne Porter — she knew enough of Society to have heard of her. And she was the — mistress — of Lord Fairley! She stared at her until the woman’s image was imprinted on her mind: queenly, sensuously beautiful, full-blown and of seductive quality. Was that what Alastair Charlton liked in a woman? It was a wonder he had bothered to invite Sonia anywhere! They could not have been more unlike!
She heard Bettina’s whispers as in a daze. “Escorts her all about — gifts her with rubies and emeralds — often at her soirées, they say he pays the rent on her flat — devoted to her —”
Sonia was biting her lips. She wanted to weep. So much for dreams! He could not have been serious about her. He probably wanted some commission from her, or something from her uncle.
“Ah, there he is, Lord Fairley!” Bettina’s whisper was so shrill, Sonia was sure she could be heard three boxes away. Sonia glanced unwillingly towards Mrs Porter’s loge, but saw no striking tall figure of a gentleman. “No, no, behind us, in the centre!”
“Don’t point, for my sake,” groaned her husband, Abner, crossly. He half-hid mockingly behind the curtains. “You will have the audience watching us tonight, rather than the play!”
Bettina scowled at him, and made some sharp reply. Sonia did not hear her. She had glanced backwards obediently, to see two tall blond-haired gentlemen enter the box towards the centre of the ring. The young man with him looked enough like Alastair to be his brother — perhaps it was his brother. She wished she dared raise her opera glasses, as Bettina did, and frankly survey the loges. It was enough for the moment that he had not gone to the box of Mrs Porter. He stood to permit two young girls to come in.
“His sisters, I do believe,” said Bettina.
Sonia drew a deep breath, and turned her attention deliberately to the stage, as the house lights were dimmed and the orchestra began an interval of light music preceding the play.
Deliberately, also, she made herself listen to the dialogue, watch the acting, become absorbed in the story. Her nerves still quivered. She must be on edge, but would not show it. Alastair Charlton was beyond her reach, she reminded herself, quite beyond her.
The first act ended with restrained applause. Much of the London crowd went to be seen, rather than to see, and the drama was beyond them. They stirred, yawned, stood up to join the promenade.
Jacob asked if the ladies cared for refreshments, then went to order for them. Abner remained to keep them company, chatting with more animation than usual. Bettina was discussing the play with sharp wit when a knock came at the door of their box.
Sonia half-turned, expecting to see a waiter with their tray. Her eyes widened and widened as a gentleman stepped in — Lord Fairley, in a striking white satin suit, with diamond and sapphire studs at his neck-cloth and wrists. With a look in his blue eyes, and a smile for her.
He bowed to her. “Good evening, Miss Goldfine. I expected to see you here, I knew you could not resist such fine drama.”
Abner was staring, Bettina had her mouth half-open. Sonia rose to greet the nobleman, moving past her cousins.
“Good evening, Lord Fairley. How pleasant to meet you again. May I make known to you my cousins —” And she managed the introductions, though she felt rather faint with excitement. Jacob returned with the waiter as they were being completed.
She thought Lord Fairley would exchange a few remarks and depart. Instead, he accepted a chair in their alcove, a cup from Jacob, and seemed prepared to remain for the lengthy intermission.
Bettina soon recovered her poise and began to comment on the play, all the time gazing at him with her sharp eyes, storing up his appearance for later gossip. “I thought the hero was rather too full of tensions for the first act,” she said. “He must save himself, or he will have nothing to build up. Do you not think so, Lord Fairley?”
“The poor fellow has a great many problems. One must allow him his emotional display,” said Lord Fairley mildly, glancing at Sonia. Was there a twinkle in the deep blue eyes? She half-smiled in a vague conspiracy with him, then glanced down at her cup again.
; “I should like to read the play at leisure,” said Beryl. She set down her cup with a shake of her head at her husband. Jacob had been unusually quiet for him, content to listen and to see to their comfort. “Yes, I should like to read and study it. The lines have much more meaning than one can catch in a moment.”
Lord Fairley agreed with this. They all talked with some ease, and Sonia was able to make a few comments on the actors. When the lights dimmed for the second act, it came as a surprise. Lord Fairley moved with ease to the door, saying, “I must return to my family. Thank you for allowing me to share the intermission with you. Miss Goldfine, my best regards,” and the final bow seemed to be directed to her alone, before the door closed after him.
The second act began. Sonia sat with her hands clasped, her eyes on the stage, but the fine acting was somewhat lost on her for a while until she was caught up in the drama again. To have paid a call on them! How the audience must have stared!
Bettina commented on just that at the second intermission. The lights had no sooner gone up when she leaned forwards to whisper sharply to Sonia, “Did you see how we are stared at? Lord Fairley drew all eyes to us! There are surely holes in my back from all those opera glasses on me!”
Beryl laughed at her kindly. “Everyone stares during the plays, Bettina. Lord Fairley was only paying us a kindness. But I did not know he had met Sonia,” and her eyes went to Sonia, with a question in them.
“He had called to see Uncle,” said Sonia, with some composure. “Uncle insisted I should accept his invitation to the opera last week. Lord Fairley enjoys music.”
They all stared at her thoughtfully. “Father insisted?” asked Jacob. “He wished you to go, with a Gentile?”
“He said so,” said Sonia quietly. She was thinking of the comments about Mrs Daphne Porter. That was the woman who had Lord Fairley’s real attentions, and a pain in her heart warned her. She was close to being hurt by this. She smiled brightly. “Is he not grand? A marquess, no less, and with such elegant manners.”
“A marquess? He seemed very easy, polished, yet not haughty,” said Beryl, and Sonia could have hugged her.
“I wonder —” murmured Jacob, but did not tell them what he wondered.
In early November of 1809, Alastair had made up his mind. His other creditors were dunning him, he had found no other way out. And Miss Goldfine was a credit to her sex, a lady in every way, low-voiced, modest, inoffensive. He liked her fine mind, and enjoyed the sharing of music with her. They had tastes in common, he thought her above the low farces, and equal to the high drama he himself enjoyed.
It had to work out — and it was the only solution. So one fine morning, he dressed carefully in navy- blue wool, his silk shirt, a white lace stock, and sapphires. He would not go poor-appearing to his fate. His mouth twisted slightly as he surveyed himself critically in the mirror. Rather pale, not so tanned, his eyes a bit sunken, and his cheeks hollow. He had not eaten well lately, and too many nights he had lain awake, to toss from one side of the bed to the other.
Now the die was cast, he must go through with it. Well, he would go gallantly, with head high. His brother and two sisters, and all dependent on him, must not be disappointed. His own happiness was of little account, he had no right to any happiness. As for heirs — if they were a disappointment, then the estates must go to Maurice. He would see to that. Maurice must marry well and high. He would see to that, also.
He had sent a note to Meyer Goldfine, asking when he might see him. Meyer had said he would be at home this morning to him. So Alastair had his coachman drive right up to the door, and stepped out into the walk.
He looked more critically at the house, and found no fault with it. Modestly large, grey stone, with narrow pillars, it was grand without ostentation, handsome without gaudiness. Inside, it was well-kept, with beautiful appointments, furniture, Persian carpets, and paintings. It showed good taste. It augured well. He found himself counting desperately through all these points. This would be good, this looked well, this turn of the card might work. A gambler, he thought, restraining his bitterness.
He was shown into Meyer Goldfine’s study. The elderly gentleman rose to meet him; the dimming eyes smiled. He held out his hand. Alastair took it, shook it gently, with appreciation for the fragile quality of the aging bones.
“Ah, sit down, sit down. You have found some solution, your letter said?” Meyer Goldfine sat down carefully in his favourite chair, his feet went to the hassock. Alastair waited to see him seated, then sat down in the overstuffed chair opposite. He found it comfortable.
“Thank you, yes, sir. Your wisdom is greater than mine,” he said steadily, managing to smile.
The keen eyes studied him, the greying head nodded. “Thank you. Which portion of my many attempts at wisdom do you find palatable?”
Alastair smiled more naturally. He had a fine dry wit, this old man. “I cannot pull out of my own accord and will. I must find a partner to help me,” he said steadily. “At the moment, I believe the only solution I have is to marry well and — pay off my debts, that I might begin again.”
“Ummm, ummm,” Meyer murmured, nodding. “And you have found such a young lady, ummm?”
Alastair drew a deep breath. “I find your niece, Miss Sonia Goldfine, both attractive in mind and spirit, sir,” he said, and found the words not too difficult to say. “Do you think she would be willing to marry me?”
The old head was bent; he could not see the eyes, hidden behind the dark lashes. “Ummm,” said Meyer Goldfine thoughtfully. “You enjoyed her company, eh?”
“Very much so. We have many tastes in common. She is a lady, modestly and sweetly attractive. She would — make a fine marchioness, I believe, if she is willing to — take this step.”
Meyer Goldfine kept his head bent. “We must discuss some matters first, before we ask her — opinion on the matter, my lord,” he said gently. “Firstly, in the matter of your debts. I have taken the liberty of repaying some of them quickly, so the interest will not mount up higher. Certain men would not deal with me; you must repay them yourself. Let us go over all the financial matters.” Pulling himself up with a little difficulty, he hobbled over to the desk and sat down there. Alastair followed him, to sit across from him, heart thumping unpleasantly fast. This was the crucial moment. After the settlement, there must be no drawing back. He was a gentleman, his word was his bond.
They went over the figures for more than an hour. Then Meyer Goldfine said, “As settlement on your marriage to my beloved niece, Sonia Goldfine, I am prepared to pay all your debts for you, amounting to over three hundred thousand pounds. In addition to that, I will settle on you, free and clear, another two hundred thousand pounds. You may do as you wish with it, use it to settle your brother, or present your sisters and dower them.”
“You are — most generous,” said Alastair. It was more than he had dared to hope.
“In regard to my niece — she is wealthy in her own right. My banking house handles her investments, which are extensive. In the marriage settlement, it shall be written that these are hers, to do with as she chooses. If the marriage fails, none of the money will go to you or yours. I regret my bluntness; it is necessary, my lord,” said Meyer Goldfine, moving a paper carefully on the desk. “None of her funds shall be touched. I know your propensity — er — to gamble. I want the fortune she has to remain intact, to go to her children, and yours, God willing.”
Alastair folded his hands over the knob of his cane, clenched his fists to control himself. Finally he managed to say in an even tone, “That is your right, and hers. I shall not touch the money belonging to her.”
Fury had raged in him. He had wanted to storm away, telling the little old man to go to hell. But pride restrained him. And he had said to himself that he would go through with it, no matter what. His family must be made secure against the future, whatever he had to sacrifice.
“Do not be angry,” said Meyer gently. “My dear Sonia is very precious to me. She has s
uffered much in her life. I want her to be happy in her marriage, and not suffer more. There is much love and womanliness in her. She will make you very happy, should you allow her to do so. I will pray daily for your joy in the marriage.”
Alastair swallowed. “I thank you, sir,” he said stiffly.
“However,” continued Meyer. “I am a practical man as well as an uncle. The marriage could fail. If it does, you will still have the two hundred thousand pounds, and your debts will be paid. I do not wish the settlement to bind you for life. If the price is too high for both of you, it is better to dissolve the marriage, rather than to make both of you chafe against the bonds.” He smiled slightly at Alastair’s surprise. “You thought I would not say such a thing? We Jews believe in the sanctity of the marriage bond. Yet we are too practical to insist that every marriage should be kept whether it is perfect or not. Marriage is not to be entered into lightly, but if a mistake is made —” He shrugged. “There are remedies.”
He spoke then of a written marriage settlement, in which all would be spelled out. He would have attorneys draw up papers, which he and Alastair would sign. It would be an agreement between them and would be binding on them both. Alastair’s debts would be all settled on his wedding day.
Goldfine wrote out a rough draft of the settlement, showed it to Alastair. They discussed it. Alastair said, “You are being most gracious and generous. I thank you for it. This will mean I can begin again, to manage the estates and households as I would wish, without fear of having all taken from me.”
“I ask only that you make my dear Sonia as happy as possible, should she accept you,” said Meyer.
Alastair started. He had forgotten the girl! He had not even proposed to her! He stared in alarm at Meyer Goldfine.
“Enough of business. You will speak to Sonia today?” asked Meyer.
Star Sapphire: Love and wild adventure in Regency England Page 6