Sweet Awakening

by Marjorie Farrell

  Sabrina made herself remain calm and did not even begin to look for Clare in the evenings until a week had passed. But it was fully ten days before Lady Rains-borough attended anything in the evening, and when she and her husband were announced at the Fraser’s musicale, it was noted that she looked almost as pale as she had in the beginning of the Season. All agreed it was a shame that she should have recovered from a miscarriage only to succumb to another illness.

  Rainsborough hovered protectively, and for her first few nights back, turned away any and all requests for dances and made sure she was home early. “It is wonderful, isn’t it, that even after almost a year, he is such a loving husband,” said more than one matron to another. “Yes, she is a very lucky woman.”

  Any of the time Sabrina managed to spend with Clare was short and unsatisfactory due to her husband’s hovering. But she was torn between feeling happy that he was so good to his wife and experiencing his protectiveness as a vigilant control.

  It wasn’t until the third day Clare was back in circulation that Giles had the opportunity to obtain a waltz. As he clasped his hand around her waist and they moved off to the music, Clare kept herself distant, head and eyes down. After a few measures, Giles shifted his hand to pull her in a little bit closer, and although she responded to his signal, she did not relax for a moment of their dance. And when they were making one last whirl around the floor and his hand tightened under her ribs for an instant, he felt her wince and heard a little gasp of pain escape her lips.

  “Are you all right, Clare?” he asked anxiously. “Do you want me to take you out for a breath of air?”

  “No, no,” she protested immediately. “I am fine, Giles, really I am. I, um, pulled a muscle the other day when I was reaching up to get a book down from a high shelf. Very foolish of me.”

  She felt as tense to him as an overstrung lute string, ready to break at the slightest twist. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t imagine what. And he certainly couldn’t ask again. He was not going to push anything on her in this state, not even his friendship.

  “Clare does not seem fully recovered from her illness, Rainsborough. I hope she hasn’t come back too soon.”

  Giles was intrigued by the expression on Rainsborough’s face. At first he looked worried and responsible, as any husband might. Then, it seemed for an instant—but only that—an expression of pain and guilt flitted over his face. Yet immediately his eyes hardened and he said, with an edge in his voice, although it was calm and polite enough:

  “Thank you for your concern, Whitton. I realize you are an old friend and have Clare’s best interest at heart, but I am her husband and therefore know what is best for her.”

  Giles bowed to both of them and moved off, feeling both furious at such an obvious dismissal, and concerned. But the man, much as Giles couldn’t like him, was right. He was Clare’s husband, and whether Giles liked him or not, certainly seemed to have Clare’s best interest at heart.

  Chapter Ten

  February, 1818

  “Are you and Lucy joining us at the theatre tonight, Giles?”

  Her brother, who had just taken a bite of toast and was washing it down with his coffee, mumbled and nodded his head.

  “Was that a yes, dear?” his sister asked with exaggerated sweetness, in exactly the same tone their mother would have used, were she with them in London, rather than with their father in Paris, on what they considered a “second honeymoon.”

  Giles swallowed. “Yes, it was a yes, Sabrina. Do you mind if we do?”

  “Of course not. In fact, I have become quite resigned to your ... friendship with Lucy.”

  Her brother grinned. “My ... friendship? Are you trying to oh so subtly ask something, Brina?”

  “Are you going to make her an offer, Giles?”

  “The wagers are three to one in favor, Sabrina. What do you think?”

  “I think that you are being most annoying, Giles. Surely your twin sister should be kept informed of the state of your heart.”

  “I have given very serious thought to it. Lucy and I have spent a great deal of time together, and she is very good company. I need a wife, and the Kirkman land runs with ours.”

  “You have spent a great deal of time together because Lucy makes sure that you do, Giles.”

  “Sabrina, I'm not obtuse. Of course I know Lucy sought me out. But perhaps that is what I need: a woman who wants me.”

  “But do you love her?”

  “I have a great deal of affection for Lucy. And we know each other’s foibles very well by now. I think we would get along quite comfortably.”

  “Well, then?”

  “I haven’t quite made up my mind. But if I were going to wager ...?”

  “Yes?”

  “Odds on, Sabrina,” he said, pushing away from the table. “Will you join me for a ride this afternoon?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I will see you later. I am off to the Home Office.”

  “Another diplomatic bungle to straighten out?”

  “It seems that I am the only one they can find who can translate Persian and interpret a report’s deeper meaning.”

  After her brother left, Sabrina sat staring into space. Lucy Kirkman as a sister-in-law. She had seen it coming, certainly, so she was almost prepared. But not entirely. She so wanted Giles to have love. He deserved it after losing Clare. Lucy wanted him, Lucy liked him. Lucy even had affection for him. But Lucy, as far as Sabrina could see, was incapable of any deeper feelings.

  Of course, he wasn’t the only one who had lost Clare, she thought. Before Clare had arrived in London for the Season last spring, there had been talk of Sabrina coming for a summer visit. But during the Season, the visit had never even been mentioned, and Sabrina had received no answer to the two short notes she had sent Clare in August.

  Lord and Lady Rainsborough had come up for the Little Season, but their attendance at social events had been sporadic. Sabrina had had one or two very short and unsatisfactory visits with Clare. It was as though her friend had retreated behind some wall. Yet she and Rainsborough seemed as close as ever and even left for Devon early, well before the holidays, and without even a good-bye to her old friend.

  Although Sabrina had very much wanted her brother’s comfort and counsel, she had avoided talking about Clare. Giles seemed to be over her, at least from all outward appearance, and Sabrina did not want to reopen the old wound. As to whether the wound had ever truly healed, she was not sure. She suspected not, for if it had, she was sure her brother would have been looking for love again, and not settling for Lucy Kirkman.

  * * * *

  Lucy would certainly make an attractive wife, if nothing else, thought Sabrina that night, when Giles and Sabrina arrived at the theatre. She was dressed in primrose muslin, which was a wonderful color for someone with her dark brown hair. Her eyes were full of life and enjoyment. I have to give her that, thought Sabrina. She has energy enough for the two of them. When she is getting what she wants!

  “Oh, look, there are the Rainsboroughs,” said Lucy. “I wondered whether they would come up for the whole Season. Or whether Lady Rainsborough was increasing yet. He is the most handsome man and so devoted, don’t you think, Sabrina?”

  Sabrina looked across to the Rainsborough box. Justin’s tan had never faded completely, and his black hair and dark skin and cool gray eyes were still a powerful combination, even after all this time. She watched as he turned solicitously to Clare, pulling out her chair for her and getting her settled. Sabrina leaned forward and waved. She thought she saw a slight frown crease Rainsborough’s brow, but it was gone by the time he alerted Clare, and they both gave discreet waves over to the Whitton box.

  “She looks as pale and thin as she did last spring after losing the baby. Do you think it has happened again, Sabrina?” remarked Lucy, who had no qualms about speaking what was on her mind.

  Sabrina answered casually: “I don’t know, Lucy. I haven’t heard from Clare for an
age.” Sabrina was very glad to see the curtain going up and the pantomime begin.

  Clare stayed in the Rainsborough box during the interval, but Sabrina saw Rainsborough in the lobby procuring a glass of punch. Dragging Lucy with her, she approached him.

  “Ah, good evening, Lady Sabrina, how lovely it is to see you here,” he said with a smile that held no real pleasure.

  “Good evening. May I come back with you and say hello to Clare?”

  “Of course.”

  Sabrina dismissed Lucy, saying she would be safe in Lord Rainsborough’s company and that she would return shortly, and then followed him back to his box, chatting about the play.

  “Here is Sabrina to see you, my dear,” Rainsborough announced.

  Clare, who had seemingly not moved since the curtain came down, started and turned around. She blushed slightly when she saw Sabrina and gave her a hesitant smile.

  Clare was as thin and as lacking in color as she had been at the beginning of last spring. And there was something about the way she held herself that worried Sabrina. There was both a tension and a fragility in her bearing that made Sabrina feel that if she should but touch her, Clare would shatter. So she did not give her a warm hug of welcome, but merely took her hand and squeezed it affectionately.

  “I hope your holidays were as festive as ours, Clare. Did you have much snow in Devon?”

  “We had some snow, Lady Sabrina, but we are so near the coast, you know, that it melts almost immediately.”

  Sabrina wanted to say rudely: “I didn’t ask you, Rainsborough.” Instead she smiled down at her friend and said: “Will you be home tomorrow? I would love to catch up on the last few months, Clare.”

  Clare’s eyes automatically glanced over at her husband, and Rainsborough smoothly answered Sabrina for her.

  “We have only just arrived, Lady Sabrina. Perhaps you could give us a few days to get settled before you call?”

  “Of course. Well, I had best get back to my seat, Clare. It is good to see you both.”

  She was looking to him for permission, fumed Sabrina, as she walked back to their box. Permission to see her oldest friend! Well, I will make sure I call the beginning of next week whether Lord Rainsborough approves or not. Being solicitous about his wife’s health is one thing; keeping her friends away from her was quite another.

  * * * *

  Four days later, Clare watched her husband going through their cards and invitations. She had almost become resigned to the fact that he made all the decisions about their social life, even to the extent of telling her whom to see and whom to turn away on afternoon calls. She caught her breath when he lifted up a piece of vellum with Sabrina’s handwriting on it.

  “Sabrina Whitton will never give up, will she,” said Rainsborough. “I should think it would have been obvious to her by now that you do not wish to continue an intimate friendship with either her or her brother.”

  “I won’t see her if you don’t want me to, Justin,” said Clare, trying to keep her voice free of anything that may have been construed as desire to see her old friend.

  “I appreciate your willingness to go along with my wishes, Clare,” said her husband, smiling his approval. “But you had better see her. If you completely ignore the Whittons, no doubt the gossips will seize upon it.”

  “All right, Justin.”

  “What were your plans for the day, Clare?”

  “I need a new pair of gloves, Justin. I thought I would go to the Pantheon Bazaar and do a little shopping this morning. I will take Liza with me, of course. If that is all right with you,” she added timidly.

  “Of course, my dear. And just make sure this afternoon, when Lady Sabrina calls, you see her on her way quickly.”

  Clare lowered her eyes to hide her disappointment and nodded. After all Clare’s neglect of their friendship, Sabrina would hardly expect a long, cozy afternoon. But, oh how she missed her old friend’s company and counsel.

  “Do we have plans for this evening, Justin?”

  Rainsborough fanned out the invitations. “I think the Winstons’ ball, don’t you?”

  Clare nodded. “Of course, my dear.”

  “Wear your new gown for me, Clare.”

  “I will, Justin.” It was a lovely gown, with an underslip of ivory and the palest gray gauze overslip lightly sprinkled with tiny rhinestones. Clare had felt she was dressed in gossamer thread spun by faeries when she had tried it on. “Are you riding this morning, Justin?”

  “No, I am merely dressed in my buckskins for show,” he answered sarcastically. “I will see you later, Clare.”

  “Yes, Justin.” She had never gotten used to the sarcasm that he employed more and more with her. But she tried to dismiss it from her mind, and getting up from the breakfast table, summoned Liza.

  Every time she saw her abigail’s bland face she felt a surge of loneliness. Liza had been with her for a year now, but she still missed Martha. Martha had cared about her. Martha had defended Clare, better than Clare defended herself. Of course, Justin couldn’t tolerate her and had dismissed her, choosing the new maid himself. But Clare never felt so alone as when Liza was with her.

  * * * *

  She saw several women that she knew at the bazaar, and smiled and nodded and chatted away about the price of silk scarves. She knew, as she walked away from them that they were gossiping about her appearance. Had she been increasing again and lost another baby? Was she capable of giving Rainsborough an heir? No, she could have told them, she had not been with child this winter, for which she was profoundly grateful. Not that she could ever share her relief with anyone. And not that anyone really cared why she looked unwell.

  She was alone and friendless in a bed of her own making, and she must lie in it until she died. At times over this past year, she had actually prayed for death, but most of the time, she just hoped there would be no more beatings, that this time, Justin would keep his promises never to drink again, never to touch her again except in love. Or at least, that his next beating would not be any harder than the last.

  * * * *

  “How was your visit with Clare this afternoon?” Giles asked as he helped his sister on with her cloak. Sabrina looked up in surprise. She had not mentioned her decision to visit Clare, as far as she recalled.

  “No need to look surprised, Brina. I was looking for you this afternoon and a footman told me where you had gone. You don’t need to be so protective, although I appreciate it. I have long been resigned to the situation.”

  “I know, Giles. But there doesn’t seem much point in talking about my worry when neither of us can do anything about it.”

  Giles was silent until they reached the carriage and then asked quietly: “And what worries you, Sabrina?”

  “It is not just that Clare looks unwell. I feel that there is an inner fragility that goes beyond any of her old diffidence. She initially seemed ...” Sabrina hesitated.

  “Yes? Go ahead, say it, Sabrina.”

  “So happy in her marriage. But now ... well, Rainsborough is always hovering over her and certainly seems affectionate enough ...”

  “Has she said anything to lead you to believe their marriage has changed?”

  “Nothing. She didn’t say much at all. We chatted about this and that. Anytime I approached anything personal, I could almost see a wall drop between us. And yet, at the same time, I have this strange feeling that our Clare is trapped behind that wall, waiting to ask for help. But help for what, I don’t know.”

  “If she doesn’t ask, we certainly can’t give it to her. And neither of us has the right to interfere with what is, ultimately a private affair,” said Giles with such finality that Sabrina wondered if she had been wrong all along. Maybe Giles was completely heart-free where Clare was concerned.

  * * * *

  However he had sounded to Sabrina, Giles was unable to ignore what she had told him. He watched Clare carefully that evening, as unobtrusively as possible. She danced with her husband several times,
and throughout the night they rarely had their eyes off each other, or so it seemed. But he could not make up his mind whether Clare’s glances over to Rainsborough were loving or something else ... something closer to watchfulness or fear.

  Giles did not ask Clare to dance, but he noticed that the young Earl of Bewley was hovering around her and danced with her twice. Bewley was an amusing fellow, and Giles felt a pang when he saw Clare laughing up at him once or twice during their waltz. It was the happiest he had seen her look in a long time. Shortly thereafter, however, he noticed that Clare was gone and Rainsborough also. He was relieved to see that her husband was making sure she didn’t exhaust herself. He and Sabrina were likely worried for nothing. Even the oldest and closest of friends drifted away from one another. He just needed to accept that that was what was happening with Clare.

  * * * *

  Clare sat very still as the carriage carried them home. It was never a good sign when Justin gave their excuses to their hostess and took her home early. She was trying to review the evening: she had been with Justin for most of it, however unfashionable that appeared. She had not spoken with Sabrina and had barely acknowledged Giles when he bowed to her. She had not danced with Giles the past few nights, nor had he asked her. She had allowed young Bewley to get her a glass of punch after their second dance. Could that have been it? But surely Bewley would not threaten Justin? He was three years younger than she was, after all.

  When they got home, Justin handed her down with exaggerated politeness and told her he would be up soon. She started up the stairs slowly and watched him go down the hall to the library. He had had Madeira to drink at supper and several glasses of champagne at the ball. And there was always a decanter of brandy in the library. When he went there before coming upstairs ...

  Liza helped her out of her gown and into her night rail.

  “Do you want me to brush your hair, my lady?”

  “Please, Liza.” Clare said yes not because she liked the abigail’s company or the brisk way she brushed her mistress’s hair. She wanted to keep Liza there as long as possible. Sometimes it made a difference if her abigail was with her when Justin first came up.