“We shall have to get him to Dr. Carmichael. Put him in his carriage.” Tackar’s man and James lifted the insensate man carefully and carried him to the waiting phaeton. Stronbert turned to James to inform him, “I will drive his carriage. Bring the pistols and the horses.” To Tackar’s man, “Hold him as steady as you can, else the ball could do more damage.”
The slow procession wound its way to a house east of Tetterton where Dr. Carmichael resided. He was breakfasting when Lord Stronbert was announced. “This is a surprise,” he commented as his friend entered the room.
“I have a severely wounded man for you to attend to, Hamilton.”
Dr. Carmichael pushed back his chair and rose to accompany Stronbert to the carriage. “Take him to the surgery. I shall be with him immediately.” He threw Stronbert a querying glance.
“There is a ball lodged in him,” Stronbert said.
Dr. Carmichael raised his eyebrows slightly and hastened after the patient, saying calmly over his shoulder, “Help yourself to breakfast, Nigel. I shall be with you when I can.”
Stronbert had completed a hearty repast when Dr. Carmichael returned. “I have removed the ball. He will live, though he would probably rather not for some time for the pain. Was this necessary?”
“Yes,” Stronbert replied, “quite necessary.”
“I should not have liked it to have been you lying there on the table. He missed you?”
“No.”
“Then let me have a look at you.”
“It is nothing,” Stronbert said with finality. “A mere graze.”
Dr. Carmichael had attended Stronbert from his youth and recognized the tone in which these words were spoken, but ignored it. His keen eyes even across the room had noted the slight wince when Stronbert had shrugged. He came to stand behind the younger man and ordered, “Take your coat off.”
Stronbert exasperatedly flung up a hand. “I tell you it is nothing, Hamilton.”
“I shall decide that,” the doctor rasped, glaring at his friend.
“Very well,” Stronbert grinned. “If you must.” He removed the coat and was instructed to remove the shirt as well, which he did.
Dr. Carmichael surveyed the graze with annoyance. “You are right. There is little damage done, but I shall bathe it. Stay here.” He left to return a few minutes later. “Sit down and hold still.”
Stronbert complied and winced as the astringent was applied. “I might have known you could not let me go without torturing me,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Then I must go.” Stronbert replaced his shirt and shrugged into his coat. “I hope you will not find it necessary to mention this incident.”
Dr. Carmichael bent bushy-browed eyes on the younger man and replied with asperity, “I shall not feel the least necessity. And I hope it will not happen again.”
“Yes,” Stronbert agreed thoughtfully, “I found no pleasure in it. I have never shot at a man before, and I found it disconcerting, no matter what the cause. If Tackar does not pay the reckoning, send it to me.” He shook hands with his friend and strode out of the room and the house to find James awaiting him. “He will live,” was all he said to the valet before he swung himself onto his horse and headed silently for Lady Coombs’s cottage. James merely grunted.
The three women were seated in the dining parlor partaking of the breakfast which Mavis, having left her home at first light, had prepared for them. The maid announced him and was directed to have him brought to them. Alicia felt her heart lurch at sight of him and her relief was only slightly marred when she noticed the tear across the shoulder of his coat. He was alive, he was walking, he was talking, he was not pale or in any obvious pain. She heard him ask Lady Gorham if he should send James for the carriage for her, and nodded when the older woman regarded her inquiringly. No one else knew that Stronbert had dueled Tackar that morning; she had no intention of telling anyone.
“Lady Coombs, might I request a word with you?” he asked blandly.
“Certainly, my lord.” She led him to the drawing room, but first he went to speak with his valet before joining her there.
“Mr. Tackar has been wounded but will survive,” he informed her bluntly.
“I thank you for sparing him.”
“I had no intention of sparing him,” he said with annoyance. He took a turn about the room and stopped before her with a comically raised eyebrow. “But I am glad he is alive. I should not like to have to leave the country. I have little fear that word of the duel will spread. It might be wise if we were to explain Lady Gorham’s presence here as having been on account of an indisposition or accident of Felicia’s. Have you any objection to that?”
Alicia did not answer him directly. “And your presence here?”
He shrugged. “It need not be known. If it is, there is the chaperonage of Lady Gorham. I would not think on it. No one is likely to ask me where I spent the night,” he said with a grin.
Alicia smiled, if faintly, for the first time since the harrowing experience had begun. “I suppose not. How simple it is for men!” Her face clouded and she said sadly, “Perhaps Felicia had a riding accident which stunned her. I think there is no need for details. She is better now.”
“Precisely.” He watched her twist her hands in her lap. How could he comfort this frightened woman, who refused to allow him to share her burdens? He could not take her in his arms and hold her, for his very touch would undo her. She would resent any familiarity or help he offered; part of her anxiety now was that she had been in need of his assistance the previous day. He knew that she was upset that he had found her in such a distressing position as she had been when he opened the bedroom door on her and Tackar. For all her gratitude it would be difficult for her to forgive him that—the sight of her naked and being attacked without being able to raise a hand to defend herself. Time. She would need a lot of time.
Alicia raised her eyes to him inquiringly. He had been regarding her, unspeaking, for some minutes. “Is there something further, Lord Stronbert?” she asked hesitantly.
“No. I hope you and your daughter will still be able to come to dine tomorrow. We have quite a celebration. It is the custom at the Court to feast the servants and tenants on the current lord’s birthday. Felicia would enjoy the fireworks there are in the evening,” he said gently.
“I should not like her to miss such a treat, but she will have to decide. I thank you again, sir, for everything you have done for us.”
“Let us not speak of it henceforth, Lady Coombs. It was my pleasure to be of service where I could.” He bowed formally and took his leave. Alicia rejoined her companions in the dining parlor.
Lady Gorham eyed her speculatively but said nothing. Felicia smiled at her mother and said, “Lord Stronbert is kind to come and see how we go on. You will not go to the shop today, will you, Mama?”
“Not if you need me here, love,” Alicia responded.
“Oh, pooh,” Felicia said defiantly. “If you wish to go to the shop, I shall go with you...if I may.”
“Lord Stronbert will give out that Lady Gorham came to us last night because you had a riding accident and were stunned, but that you are all right now. You shall not mind?”
“Only to have my riding so maligned,” Felicia retorted with a slight smile. “Yes, that will be fine. I cannot like to think that people will know what really happened.”
Lady Gorham eyed the two of them exasperatedly. “So you shall go on as though nothing had happened? I would have spent the day in bed with my vinaigrette and cold compresses for my brow!”
“You know you would not, my dear,” Alicia laughed. “You would be about your business as usual. Your carriage will be here shortly. I am sorry you missed the Tosley Hall ball, but I cannot thank you enough for coming.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Gorham replied gruffly. “Where else should I be at such a time? I cannot own to have missed seeing Lady Wickham or her disagreeable son, or even her mild-mannered hus
band. My hostess is like to be annoyed with me, though,” she said gravely, her eyes twinkling.
“No doubt. I have the strongest desire to see her in the gown Felicia designed for her.” Alicia stopped abruptly and continued more slowly. “We shall see how we go on before deciding whether we will dine at the Court tomorrow.”
Felicia sat up straight in her chair and glowered at her mother, saying stubbornly, “I am sure I shall be right as a trivet. Of course, if you are not up to going I shall stay at home with you.”
Lady Gorham grumbled, “You might have known, Alicia. I hear the carriage. If you need me, do not hesitate to send for me.” Then with a last aggrieved shrug she commented, “I shall see you both at the Court tomorrow evening, no doubt.”
Alicia accompanied her to the door. Before Lady Gorham descended the stairs she turned and asked slyly, “Did Stronbert kill Tackar?”
Astonished, Alicia mumbled, “How could you possibly know they would duel?”
“How could they not?”
“Well, they did, but Tackar will live.”
“More’s the pity,” Lady Gorham murmured angrily.
“How can you take it so lightly? Can you not see that Lord Stronbert might have been killed himself?”
The anguish in Alicia’s voice drew Lady Gorham’s sharp attention. “You are fond of Lord Stronbert?”
A blush stained Alicia’s cheeks. “Well, yes, of course I am. He has been very kind to Felicia and me,” she hurried to say. “What position we have in Tetterton is due solely to him, you see.”
“Yes,” Lady Gorham replied as she allowed the footman to assist her into the waiting carriage, “I believe I do see.”
Chapter Twelve
Stronbert rode back to the Court preoccupied. As he had said, there was no one to ask him where he had spent the night, though he would not put it past his mother to do so. The prospect did not daunt him, however, for as much as he loved her he had no intention of allowing her to meddle in his life at his age. Nevertheless he entered the Court through a back door in an attempt to avoid the rest of the household. Before he could ascend to his room he was accosted by Miss Carnworth.
“Lady Gorham has not returned as yet,” she informed him.
“She will be here presently.”
“They are all right, are they? Lady Coombs and her daughter?” she asked anxiously.
“Quite all right,” he informed her lazily, then, noting her very real concern, he added, “I have no doubt you shall see them tomorrow at dinner.”
“I am so glad,” she responded, her face strangely puckered. “Thank you for helping them.”
Stronbert eyed her closely, wondering if she had any idea what had really happened. Then he said gently, “I shall always do what I can for them, Miss Susan. I think you know that.”
“Yes, yes. But they will not always accept your help. If that should ever be the case and you are at a stand, I hope you will allow me...that you will tell me so that I can do my possible,” she said firmly.
Stronbert pressed her hand comfortingly. “You are very wise, Miss Susan. Be sure that I shall call on you when...and if...the time comes.”
Miss Carnworth nodded unsmiling and disappeared into the west wing. Stronbert realized that she felt a kinship with the two women in Tetterton, and was especially attached to Felicia. He continued to his room and found James there ready to assist him out of his depressingly dark outfit. After he had washed he sent James away, so that he might lie down for a while and sleep.
There was a light tap on the door which awoke him, but he did not respond. Then he heard his nephew’s voice through the heavy panels, “Uncle Nigel? Are you there?”
“Yes, come in.”
Rowland entered hesitantly, surprised to find his uncle stretched full-length on the bed in his drawers. “Would you rather I came another time?”
“No, sit down. I want to talk to you a moment.”
“Is Felicia all right? I heard she had a riding accident,” Rowland asked gravely, not taking his uncle’s advice to seat himself.
“She is fine now. But she did not have a riding accident.”
Rowland looked at him inquiringly. His uncle had donned a dressing gown and seated himself on the edge of the bed. He obeyed this time when his uncle waved him to a chair. “What happened to her?”
Stronbert considered how he might best put the matter and found no easy solution. “What I tell you now is for your ears alone. Not for your sister or anyone else. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I tell you only because I think you need to know so that you will not distress the girl in all ignorance. I do not want her to know that I have told you. If you feel you cannot manage that, I shall not tell you.”
“I can manage,” Rowland responded hotly.
Stronbert said only, “I hope you can. I shall depend on you to do so. Felicia was abducted yesterday.” Rowland’s face paled and his annoyance of a moment before dissipated. “By whom? What happened?”
“I shall not tell you by whom. I do not think you need to know. Suffice it that I have handled the matter.”
“Is he dead?”
“No, he will live. Now listen carefully, Rowland. Felicia was not harmed. That is to say, she remains a virgin. However, she was handled grossly and knew the fear of being raped. It is no small fear with a woman. I do not think a man can ever have such a similar fear. It is more than being insulted, more than being assaulted, though it is both of them. There is a shame and a helplessness involved which may not perhaps be duplicated in any other action between human beings. You have, no doubt, a concept of how you would feel if something of the nature happened to Dorothy. But you can never know just how shattering such an experience is, nor can I.” He frowned sadly as he remembered the anguished cries Felicia had uttered when he had held her.
“But she was not raped?” Rowland asked timidly.
“No, I found her before anything happened. But the fear will be there for a long time. It will not be easy to overcome. She will not feel the same toward men for some time. Even the most casual touch might upset her—being lifted onto her horse, dancing, placing her hand on your arm.” He was not altogether thinking of Felicia, of course, but the same could apply to either of the women. “I do not say that these things are necessarily true. She is a young woman and may be flexible enough to shrug the whole incident away. I doubt it, though.”
“What do you suggest I do?” Rowland asked, his voice shaking.
“Be gentle with her. Do not let her know that you are aware of the incident, for she would then be embarrassed with you. Ask her each time if you can help her onto her horse or if she would like to take your arm. Do not take some of those things for granted any longer. And give her time, as much time as she needs.”
Rowland sat very still for a long while. “I am extremely fond of her.”
“Yes, I thought so. But she is only sixteen and has seen nothing of the world.”
“You mean nothing of other men,” Rowland surmised sadly.
“In part. Where the proper degree of attachment exists it will last,” Stronbert said gently. “I am your uncle, Rowland, and not your father, so I may be out of line in what I am about to say, but I feel the circumstance warrants it.”
He observed his nephew give an encouraging sign. “Some men treat a woman’s body as their right when they marry—and even when they do not. There is never any excuse for such an attitude. Our society is premised on a family, land handed down from father to son. Sometimes men, out of passion or out of an excess of determination to beget heirs, treat their wives as objects for this purpose alone. And they treat them roughly. A woman’s body is to be respected, no less sacred to you than your own body. It is a fragile thing, more so than your own, and yet it can bear children which yours never can. Because of the constant chaperonage and the lack of discussion, women often come to marriage with little concept of the way their bodies will be used.” Stronbert stopped as his ne
phew flushed. “Would you rather I did not discuss this?” he asked calmly.
“No, sir. That is, I pray you will continue.”
“Many women are sold into marriage to all intents and purposes and their husbands treat them as any other item they might buy. They use them for their own pleasure with the end sometimes, sometimes not, of begetting heirs. It would be cheaper and more humane to go to a prostitute who understands what is expected of her, and who is often well paid for the service she provides. On the other hand, even men who are sincerely attached to their wives often treat them roughly, simply out of lack of knowledge. If one day you should marry Felicia you would no doubt find her timid of your advances because of the experience she has gone through. She will require patience and love and gentleness even more than another woman might. But every woman does, Rowland, and it is your responsibility as a man to learn to give those things, or you should not marry. You should learn how to treat a woman’s body so that you give and not only take pleasure. Many women do not even know that their bodies can experience pleasure,” he said somewhat sadly, “and they are ashamed of themselves for feeling it if they do. Poppycock! A woman can receive pleasure and should not deny it to herself. But you will have to teach her that because she is not like to learn it elsewhere. That’s all I have to say. Do you have any questions?”
Rowland contemplated his uncle wonderingly. “Yes,” he said. “Just how am I to learn all that?”
Stronbert let out a roar of laughter. “A good question, Rowland. There is no simple way of gaining the experience, for you cannot come by some woman who will allow you to practice on her. Forgive me, I should not laugh about it. Have you never had a woman? No, I have no right to ask you such a question. Ignore it.”
But Rowland had no intention of ignoring the question. “I have, you know, in London. Twice. Jimmy Drew introduced me to them.”
Stronbert admirably controlled the smile he felt surfacing and said, “And did they teach you anything?”
“Teach me?” Rowland asked incredulously.
“I can see that they did not. You had best choose more carefully in future.”
Alicia Page 13