Surely Uncle Meyer could not have done this to her! She clutched at that thought. Her uncle loved her, he would not have sold her thoughtlessly to any Gentile…
“I’ll take care of this from now on,” said Alastair curtly. “I might have known you would go prying, get into everything. A woman cannot resist looking into secret papers —”
Sonia lifted her head proudly. “Forgive me,” she said sarcastically. “I shall not disturb your papers again!” She turned to sweep from the room, the train of her silken gown trailing the carpet grandly. Gathering up her blue skirts in one hand, she reached for the door handle, finding it by instinct rather than sight.
“Oh — Sonia! You will not speak of this to my brother and sisters!” he said sharply. “I have no wish for this to be bandied about in the streets!”
She bowed her head, left him. She could not speak again.
She went up the stairs to her apartment, and stood in the centre of a lovely room, fists clenched, taking deep breaths to regain command of herself. Leah came in, found her like this, and swept to her in concern.
“My baby, my pet, my dove, what is it?” crooned Leah, taking her shoulders and turning her face to the light.
“I must see Uncle,” muttered Sonia.
She heard Alastair in the adjacent rooms, cursing his valet. Doors banged, drawers were slammed. He was dressing — to go out again? To Mrs Porter, whose rent he paid? She thought of that arrogant letter, reminding him to pay the overdue rent.
Leah silently helped Sonia to change to an outdoor gown of dark blue velvet. As she left the room, she heard the roaring in the hallway below. Alastair glanced up in the midst of shouting at his brother, glared at her, then slammed out through the front door.
Lady Edwina was standing aghast at the entrance to the drawing room. She looked at Sonia descending the stairs, at the dark velvet cloak covering her gown.
“But Sonia!” she cried. “What is it? Alastair has gone out for the evening — and now you! But we have guests — a dozen guests to dinner —”
Sonia had forgotten. She found she did not care.
“You will entertain them admirably, Lady Edwina,” she said coldly, and went out to the carriage she had ordered.
Lady Henrietta had come to join her sister. “They have quarrelled, I’ll be bound,” she whispered, so loudly that Sonia heard her before the door closed after her and Leah. Sonia smiled, a wry twist of her mouth. Quarrelled? What a meek mild word! She felt she hated them all, the source of her present terrible unhappiness and shame. To be sold — for that sum of money — and no one caring… She could not endure it. She must know the truth.
She had never thought to feel such shame, such horror at her condition. She was a proud woman; she had earned her own living at jewellery-making; she had her intelligence. She had hoped one day to marry for love, or never to marry at all. But a marriage such as had been foisted on her by a man she had loved all her days — her uncle — it could not be. There was some terrible mistake…
Meyer Goldfine had eaten his frugal supper, and the remains were on the tray at his side as he sat with his narrow feet propped up near the fire. He set aside the book he was reading, to look at Sonia with a smile of pleasure as she came in.
“My dearest Sonia, an unexpected visit — my dear —” He struggled to get up. She shook her head, and sank down into the chair next to his, forgetful of cloak, bonnet, and her distraught countenance.
“Uncle Meyer, did you give Alastair three hundred thousand pounds — to marry me?”
Leah gasped behind her, and shut the door sharply to keep out the curious maid. Meyer turned pale in the face of his niece’s fury.
“My child, what is this? Of what do you accuse me? Of course there was a dowry,” he said cautiously, eying her warily.
“Uncle, the truth, if you will,” she said, drawing a deep painful breath. Her chest hurt her in a curious way, like a pain deep inside that would never go away. “I found some papers, as I worked in — his study. He wanted some bills paid, his secretary had been called away. I found a marriage settlement. Uncle, the truth!”
“Truth? What is truth? How can we discover truth?” he mused, his head on one side as he glanced away uneasily from her pale face, her shaking hands.
“Uncle!” She was blazingly furious, her fists clenched, more angry than he had ever seen her.
“Now, now, my dear, caution and patience. All shall be revealed and understood,” Meye said finally. He sighed deeply; he hated scenes. He liked everything to move sweetly and serenely, especially now that he had grown old and tired. Scenes were distressing and caused him to lose sleep.
“Tell me, then, from the beginning.”
Her voice was taut and commanding. She would not endure less than the whole story. So he told her.
“Very well, my dear. You shall know.” He told her what he had discovered about the debts of Alastair’s father, how he had bought the mortgages and all other papers he could discover until he had Alastair firmly in his hold. Then he had sent for him, made his ultimatum. And Alastair had given in, courted Sonia, won her, and married her.
“But — why, Uncle?” she whispered, her grey eyes distended wide in disbelief. “I thought — I thought you — you loved me and wished me well? But you have tied me in bondage for life to a man who — who despises me and what I am!”
He flinched. “Come now, you exaggerate,” he said sharply. “You have been happy, you have had the look of a bride at times. You have been with him, he has dealt gently with you? Of course. He is a man of the world.”
She waved that aside, shivering a little. “Why, Uncle? You must know he despises all Jews,” she told him bluntly.
Uncle Meyer nodded, but said hopefully, “As he comes to know you better, he will admire you, and his sons will be his pride and joy.”
“His sons!” She choked over the words. “Uncle, why? Why have you caused this to happen to me? Why did you not give me a choice? You know I must have refused his offer, thinking he —”
“He did not love you? But he will,” said Meyer calmly. “You are attractive, you are wealthy, you run a fine household, you are peaceful and gentle — most of the time… He will love you, especially when you give him sons!” And he nodded his grey head in its little skullcap.
She persisted. “Why, Uncle?” And Leah’s gaze was equally demanding and accusing as she listened to her darling girl.
Meyer sighed, and gave in again. “I have this plan, my dear. And you must be part of it. You see, my sons must marry Jewish girls and continue their line. But you — you could marry anywhere, you might marry into royalty. I planned it long ago. No Jews may be received at Court. Well, you shall be the first! No Jews may serve in the House of Commons and the House of Lords! Well, they dare not refuse your son, for he will one day be a marquess!”
Sonia stared at him, so did Leah, wide-eyed and unbelieving. His words had rung in the quiet book-lined room.
“I — don’t — understand —” whispered Sonia, pitifully, her hand on her heart. “You loved me, you raised me —”
He turned his head from her, to gaze into the heart of the fire and into the depths of his dreams. “I love you, my chicken, yes. But you know how Jews are treated in all societies. In England, it is better than the pogroms of Europe, the cruelties, the taxation, the murders — such as befell your beloved mother, my dearest Sonia. But even in England there is such prejudice, such scorn of us. Well, one day, there will be those Jews who will break through the barriers of prejudice and take their rightful places in society. Yes, and at the Bar, and in the courts, and in Parliament, and in the great houses of the land. A Jew may not own land, but your son will inherit land. A Jew may not be called to the Bar, but one of your sons or grandsons may. It is necessary. There must be a start somewhere — and you, Sonia, will be the vessel for the future changes for Jews in England.”
“Oh, Uncle, you are mad — you must be mad —” she murmured. Her face went down into her glov
ed hands.
His eyes glowing with the fervour of his plans, he shook his grey head proudly. “No, we have discussed it carefully, some of us. It must work — others will do this, also. We are not received — but the next generation will be! We are not accepted — the next generation will be accepted and honoured. Your son will be a marquess!” Seeing her silent distress, the overwhelmed slump of her figure, he grew more kindly. “Sit up, my dear, sit up and raise your chin and think of the future! We do not matter! It is the future of our people that is at stake! You have courage and intelligence, in addition to your wealth and beauty. You will win out. I promise you!”
He had used her, as she had never dreamed anyone would do. Sonia felt crushed at his ambitious employment of her, and all without confiding in her. She was a woman, he was a great man, and he had his plans. A woman was a vessel, he said — her uncle had said it!
Yet — yet she felt a deep responsibility to her people. She remembered so vividly the nightmarish scenes in Vienna, the bloody body of her own mother. The shouts, the screams, the nightly terrors. The little petty annoyances and the big problems of the heavy taxations, the little slights and scorns and the big horrors of the persecutions.
If she could do something to help — if by her own sacrifice her people could be brought more pride and place in England — if crushing herself would bring to fruition the wine of their hopes… She must do it, she thought, with the taste of sourness and despair on her lips.
They talked for some time. Meyer told his niece glowingly of his hopes for the Jews of England. What they could accomplish, once at the Bar! What they could achieve, once in the Houses of Parliament! Society would receive them. There would be ways of earning the right to have their own homes, their own plots of land. They would be honoured for their achievements, they would not be spat upon and dealt with contemptuously. Was it not worth all the trouble and sacrifice they could make?
He had talked long with Nathan Rothschild about this. The great son of the Rothschilds of the bank in Europe had not approved of marrying into the Gentiles. But he wished great things for his brethren in England. He had met with scorn and contempt himself in his efforts to set up his banking house.
“Together, we can do much, my dearest Sonia,” said Meyer, his face flaming with eagerness. “Much, much, much! You shall never regret your part in this, I promise you!”
She could not think of it now. She finally rose, kissed him and left his house to make her way back to Alastair’s. Bitterness filled her, though she tried to choke it down. To be so used, without her knowledge and consent! Leah sat silently beside her, sympathy welling from her in waves without a single word being spoken.
The townhouse candles were ablaze, and torches flared before the house as carriages were being driven up and horses walked.
“Drive about to the back, to the stables,” Sonia ordered curtly, and her coachman obeyed. She got out, and went in wearily by the back way, past the waiters, maids and cooks. She went up to her rooms.
Leah undressed her, and she sat down at the writing desk in her pretty bedroom. When Leah had left, Sonia went over and over the conversation with her uncle. Music and laughter drifted up from the floor below them as the party went on light-heartedly.
It emphasized her loneliness, it filled her with heartsick despair. Meyer had sold her to Alastair, for three hundred thousand pounds. But he had his reasons. Perhaps, in the cold light of day and reason, she could understand and forgive him. Tonight, such grace was beyond her. Her head sank into her arms, and she sat there for a long time while the candles guttered and finally went out.
CHAPTER 9
The cold formality between Alastair and Sonia did not go unremarked in the household. The housekeeper raised her eyebrows, the maids whispered and tittered, Alastair’s valet went about with tight lips and an outraged look. He adored his master, whatever the marquess might do, and he would have no scorn spoken in his presence about him. Yet he was fully aware that the door between the two bedrooms remained closed day and night.
It was Alastair’s brother and two sisters who were uneasy about the situation. It was beginning to be understood by them that only Sonia’s money had kept them going, that the marriage settlement had kept them from poverty, disgrace and hard work far beneath their station. Maurice talked to Edwina, Edwina talked to Henrietta, and finally they held whispered conferences. They must be nicer to Sonia. After all, she was a sweet, gentle, polite woman. Perhaps she would not get so furious that she would leave them.
“After all,” declared Edwina, “he married her, and we don’t approve of divorce. It would cause such a terrible scandal —”
“And she can be so sweet,” sighed Maurice. “I wish I could find a girl so gentle and amiable! It quite makes one despair of marriage. Only the other day, Peter told me that his wife —”
Edwina gave him a warning frown. “Not in front of Henrietta,” she said coldly. Henrietta tossed her head, resolving to hear the gossip from Maurice as soon as she could get him alone.
“I am sure there are many amiable ladies about, Maurice,” said Edwina.
“Yes, they may seem amiable when one is courting! But when one marries, one finds a termagant! I tell you, it is enough to put one off — that a girl should turn one face to Society and another to her own family and husband! What a shrew a girl can be!” And he shuddered in his handsome flashing blue coat.
“Do let us keep to the subject,” said Edwina. “What can we do to reconcile them, and make Sonia feel more welcome? Daily she goes off to her own townhouse. She says she is working on jewellery. But not to be here for teas… People are beginning to talk —”
“Yes, and we do want to be presented this year,” muttered Henrietta. “I don’t know if Sonia can be, but I want my presentation!”
“We shall be fortunate if either of you are presented,” said Edwina, putting her hand to her cheek with a sigh. She felt as though she were growing up too quickly these days, watching the taut control of Sonia, the sullen anger of Alastair. The girl who was her sister-in-law was suffering inside, and it was probably Alastair’s fault, much as Edwina hated to admit it. Was he still going to that disagreeable coarse woman, Mrs Porter? Certainly he was out many evenings when he might be with his own family.
Alastair had been worrying about the same thing. He had quietly discussed the matter with some of his feminine friends, older women accepted without reserve at Almack’s. Any one of them would have sponsored Henrietta, but, to a lady, they had refused even to try to sponsor Sonia. One had told him bluntly why; the others had hinted. A Jewess would be trying to push her way into Society, and it would not be allowed.
One kind lady finally explained to him how it might be arranged. “Henrietta will be presented by someone, but your wife at that event may only sit in the background. Then on other occasions, she may come to balls and accept invitations to dances. That way, propriety will be satisfied. She will not be presented to the queen, nor will any ceremonies be outwardly performed. She may go on as though she had been received. But, of course, she cannot be received.”
Alastair had raged inside, though he had bowed and smiled, and kissed the lady’s hand on parting. He felt angry and protective towards his wife. She was a sweet girl; she had been quite lovable and amiable during their stay at Fairley. Back in London, she seemed a different person, cold and distant, ever since the unfortunate discovery of the marriage settlement. and his account books. He flushed angrily whenever he thought of it. How careless he had been! He had stuffed books and bills away awaiting the return of his secretary. The young man could take care of it all later; the tradesmen must wait.
Edwina looked quite relieved when Alastair came home in time to dress for dinner that evening. He patted her cheek.
“Worrying again?” he asked her dryly.
She nodded, her blue eyes lighting at sight of him. “Oh, Alastair, I did want this evening to go well! Sir Philip Ryan is coming tonight, and he is so — so amiable!”
“Amiable? I would not have described him so, but I am not a young and beautiful girl,” he teased her.
She blushed furiously, but gazed fondly after him as he ran lightly up the stairs to change.
He finally decided on his blue and silver. He heard no sounds from the next apartment; all seemed quiet. Alastair frowned, and asked his valet abruptly, “Has Lady Fairley returned home?”
“I believe not, my lord,” said the valet, brushing Alastair’s coat with infinite care and studying the set of the linen stock with absorbed interest.
“Where is she?” he asked, discarding his air of unconcern.
“I believe she goes daily to her townhouse, my lord, to attend to her business of making jewellery.” The tone was level, impassive.
“I see.”
He waited for a time. Sonia had not returned by the time it was the hour for the guests to arrive. He went down alone to receive them with Lady Edwina at his side. He noted the looks; he heard the whispers, and they disturbed him again.
The evening seemed unendurably long. He had much time to think at the dinner table, with Edwina presiding at the low end. By one in the morning, when the last of the guests had departed, he had resolved he must speak to Sonia. They had to present a united front to Society, or gossip would overwhelm them all.
He told his valet to call him at eight o’clock, making sure he got up. The valet hid his surprise magnificently and bowed as he left the room.
Alastair was up before eight, though. He had been unable to sleep much, for worrying about what he would say. His valet came, Alastair dressed and drank a cup of tea in his rooms. He heard low voices in the next apartment. Sonia was up, too.
He sent his valet to ask if he might come in. The valet returned and said formally, “My lady will see you at your convenience, my lord.”
Alastair pushed back his shoulders, lifted his chin, and felt as though he were going into battle — one more difficult than any he had ever fought.
Star Sapphire: Love and wild adventure in Regency England Page 11