“And were always afraid Mama and Papa would hear us,” said Bess.
“They probably did,” Lucinda said thoughtfully, “but they let us stay up anyway.” She grinned. “Do you remember how we used to get those fits of giggling?”
“Do you remember why?” asked Catherine with an impish smile.
Bess said, “We talked a lot about what it would be like to be married, and what it would be like to...you know.”
“To go to bed with a man,” said Lucinda.
Catherine blushed. “Oh, sister, you are just as blunt as ever, but you’re right.”
“So how is it?” Lucinda inquired, feeling not the least embarrassed asking. “Here I am, an old maid of twenty-six, and I still don’t know. Such ignorance! It’s disgusting.”
“You do too know,” cried both her sisters.
“Well, some, but not everything.”
“You’re better off,” Bess fervently proclaimed.
“That’s not true,” protested Catherine. “Marriage can be wonderful. Marriage can be...just the most marvelous, the most...” she paused and blushed deeper.
“Marvelous for you, perhaps, but not me,” persisted Bess. “If you’re meaning the physical part, I find the whole process most distasteful. But then, it’s something a woman must submit to, isn’t it? At least the whole affair is performed at night, in the dark, and is swiftly concluded.”
Catherine sat back amazed. “But doesn’t Nicolas...? I mean, Robert is so anxious to please me. He takes hours sometimes, and it’s not just at night, it’s sometimes in the morning, or at noon with the sunlight streaming through the windows.”
“Heavens, no,” Bess said grimly, “for me it’s always in the dead of night, which, as far as I’m concerned is the only proper way. I undress in the dark every night and slip into my nightgown. Nicolas comes in and...well, has his way with me, as quickly as possible, then he rolls over and goes to sleep. That’s it. Then it’s done.” Bess flopped her hands out as if she had just described how to boil an egg.
Catherine looked totally bewildered. “But always at night? If it’s night, and the lamps are out, how can he watch you undress? Robert says it gives him great pleasure to see me...you know.”
“My husband has never seen me au natural and he never shall,” Bess proclaimed, firmly shaking her head. “I do all my dressing and undressing in the closet. As for the rest, actually, I’ve quite adjusted to it. I simply lie there and remind myself that it’s something men like to do. Sometimes, while he’s...you know, I plan my tasks for the next day, all the time reassuring myself the entire procedure is for the greater good, and that’s true, is it not?”
“If the greater good results in a baby, then of course you’re right,” mused Lucinda.
Bess gave a rueful nod. “Although one would wish God could have invented a more civilized manner in which to procreate the race.”
Catherine, amazement still showing on her face, started to protest, but Bess ignored her. “However, since He did not, I am resigned to my fate and determined to make the best of it. You’ll not hear me complain.”
“But have you never felt...?” Although blushing deeply, Catherine persisted, “I mean, have you no idea how absolutely thrilling and exciting and wonderful the marriage bed can be?”
“Never.” Bess crossed her arms across her chest and firmly bobbed her chin. “And that’s fine with me. I do my duty, and that’s it. If I had my choice I would live my entire life without all that foolishness.”
Later, after Bess had left, Catherine expressed her bewilderment. “I can’t believe it. Did you hear her call it a procedure? That’s terrible. I cannot imagine going through life without ever knowing what it’s like to really, truly love a man, and to have...well, the physical side of marriage can be a wondrous thing.” Her mouth curved into a secret little smile. “To know passion—it’s such pure ecstasy, impossible to describe. Then afterward, when the passion has ebbed, sometimes Robert and I just melt together, as close as two people could possibly be, and I think there’s no place in the world I would rather be than sheltered in Robert’s arms.” She lowered her eyes and sheepishly whispered, “I sound wanton.”
“No, indeed, you do not,” Lucinda assured her. Inside she felt a pang of longing. “Just looking at you convinces me how gloriously happy you are. Do you remember how shy you used to be? Quiet, too, and always a bit unsure of yourself. You’ve changed. Now there’s a radiance about you. You positively glow.”
“Robert’s love has changed me. Don’t laugh, but I’m so happy sometimes I think I shall burst with joy. I’m such a different person now.”
“So is Bess,” Lucinda said sadly, “but I fear in the other direction. Remember how she used to smile all the time?”
Catherine nodded. “Now she’s such a sour-face. I do not believe she’s found happiness with Nicolas, and that’s a tragedy. No woman should go her whole life without knowing—” Catherine bit her lip, looking guilty.
“Don’t feel bad,” said Lucinda. “What you meant was no woman should be compelled to marry a man she doesn’t love. The problem is, in our world that’s not very practical, is it?”
“I fear not.” Catherine remained silent a moment, looking thoughtful. “Sister, this Lucius Whittlesby...I take it Mama and Papa want a match?” Lucinda nodded. “But you don’t love him?”
Lucinda wrinkled up her nose distastefully. “Have you seen him? Worse, have you listened to him? He’s so utterly boring I don’t know how I can stand a lifetime of listening to him talk about himself and his special relationship with God.”
“Tell me, what do you really want for a lifetime?”
Catherine’s question caused Lucinda to pause and reflect. “I’m happy as I am,” she finally stated. “People can judge my life any way they like, but in most ways, I find it most satisfactory. I love to read. I love to visit friends and have them visit me. I love to sketch, and ride in the woods with Papa, and you know how I feel about bird watching.”
Catherine smiled. “You can identify every bird in England.”
“Not quite, but that alone, along with my painting could keep me busy for a lifetime.”
“Not quite,” Catherine said with a sad shake of her head. “I mean, watching birds and painting them is fine, for a hobby, but do you really want to grow old and wrinkled and die an old ape leader? Come here.” Catherine slid from the bed and dragged Lucinda to the full length mirror. “You’re so pretty, Lucinda. Look at that perfectly splendid figure. You very well know your sisters have always envied how tall and slender you are.”
“Nonsense.”
“But it’s true. You’re the most beautiful one of us all, you know that.” Catherine tugged at a lock of her sister’s hair. “Look at how gorgeous.”
“Plain brown.”
No, it’s not, it’s a gloriously shining chestnut. I love the way you wear it piled high. And who wouldn’t die for that darling, straight little nose and those eyes—so large and deep-set, so—”
“Plain brown.” Lucinda gave her sister a wry smile. “If I’m so beautiful where is my perfect husband?”
“You simply haven’t found him yet.” With heartfelt honesty, Catherine continued, “Lucinda Linley, you’re a fool to settle for the likes of Lucius Whittlesby.”
Lucinda was taken aback. Her shy little sister had never spoken up so boldly before. “Mama and Papa will be crushed if I don’t. After all”–-she could not keep the bitterness from her voice-–“Whittlesby will accept me at a bargain price.”
“Who cares? Follow your heart, not what you feel obligated to do. If you don’t, you’ll end up like Bess, undressing in the closet every night.”
The very thought set them laughing. But soon Lucinda sobered again. “I confess, I’ve been restless lately. Sometimes I feel as if my life is not my own, as if I were wrapped in chains that the circumstances of my life keep tightening. I shall hate marrying Lucius Whittlesby, but what choice do I have? Mama and Papa have been so go
od to us. How could I not abide by their wishes?”
“Just don’t marry him,” said Catherine. Noticing Lucinda’s dubious expression, she continued, “Oh, I know it’s what our parents want, but do you really want to end up with that old goat? Where is that iron resolve you used to have? Ask yourself, how could you endure going to bed with him?”
“Not easily,” Lucinda said ruefully.
“Why don’t you talk to them again? Make sure they realize how unhappy you would be. Perhaps, if you could offer some alternative...?”
It dawned on Lucinda that indeed there was an alternative. “I could insist upon going to Southfield to be a companion to Aunt Pernelia. I mean, really insist and not take no for an answer.”
Catherine’s eyes lit. “There’s the perfect answer to your problem. Papa won’t like it, but you must stick to your convictions and do it anyway.”
“He said no, but...”Suddenly a new resolve filled Lucinda’s heart. “I keep seeing the contrast between you and Bess. She’s miserable, and not even pretty anymore, and all because she married a man she didn’t love. Whereas you—”
“Whereas I have blossomed like a rose,” Catherine finished for her, touching her hand lightly to her heart. “Come to your senses. Send Lucius Whittlesby packing. Wait for your true love.”
“What if I never find him?”
“You will.”
But what if I don’t? Lucinda thought. There was a good chance she wouldn’t. She had just realized one thing for certain, though. “What have I been thinking of?” she asked, surprised at herself. “How could I have considered, even for a moment, marrying Whittlesby? You’re right, Catherine. I shall send him packing. Also, I shall ask Papa to please send me off to Aunt Pernelia’s.” She added playfully, “And of course I shall wait for that true love you say will come along.”
Catherine smiled. “How will you know him? What will he be like?”
“Like Papa, of course. He will be a gentle, quiet man, thoughtful and modest. He will enjoy our taking long walks through the woods together, communing with nature. He will enjoy reading, and he will most definitely find great joy in bird watching. I could not abide a man who does not hold a tender feeling in his heart for all birds.”
Catherine cast an appreciative eye towards the album by Lucinda’s bedside that contained the pictures of birds Lucinda had painted with her watercolors. “He should greatly admire your bird paintings, as we all do.”
“That, too.”
“I hope you find him.”
“Oh, I shall,” Lucinda replied affirmatively. She felt much better. Catherine’s optimism had filled her with new hope. “Out there, somewhere, there must be such a man.”
Chapter 4
“I’ve decided I shall go hunting for partridge tomorrow,” said Douglas, Lord Belington, to his younger brother, the Honorable Alexander Wyndham. “Since I’m here, I may as well take advantage of the hunting season and bag a few birds.”
Douglas had just returned from London, a journey he undertook as few times a year as possible. Whenever he returned to Ravensbrook Manor, it was his habit to keep to himself, tend to whatever urgent business had accumulated pertaining to the managing of the estate, then return to London post haste. Ordinarily, with Alex’s help, he could run the estate from London, but there were times when some sort of minor crisis compelled his return. Recently Alex, too, had spent some time in London, much to Douglas’s surprise. In the past, Alex had always proclaimed his disdain of the city—claimed he enjoyed a constant state of felicity in the quiet countryside. Recently, however, he had cut quite the figure of a London dandy, attending countless balls, concerts and soirees, attracting a great deal of attention from the ladies.
Now, realizing they’d been away too long from Ravensbrook Manor, both had returned home.
Presently, he and Alex were on horseback. They had been riding for hours over the vast acreage of the estate, checking on the corn, sheep and cattle that added pleasingly abundant amounts to their income.
Atop a small hill, Douglas reined his mount to a halt. He took a long, satisfying look at the golden fields of hay below that ended at thick woods of ash, alder, and birch. He smiled with satisfaction. Those woods were full of game. He said to Alex, “Come hunting with me tomorrow.”
“I’d rather not.”
No surprise there, thought Douglas. His younger brother had never fancied those manly outdoor sports, such as hunting and fishing, that Douglas enjoyed so much. Instead, Alex tended toward the writing of love poems. With his slight build, long, fair hair, and pensive blue eyes, he even looked the part of the esthetic poet. But no matter. Douglas found that despite his brother’s penchant for poetry, plus a certain immaturity, he took his duties seriously and did an excellent job of running the estate.
Douglas turned his gaze to the huge, sprawling house that was Ravensbrook Manor. It was originally a castle. Over the centuries it had been renovated countless times, yet it still maintained its castle-like look with its roughly hewn limestone walls and multiple turrets that rose haphazardly above battlemented parapets. There were ornate chimneys as well as the massive round, pinnacled, north tower that had once withstood the attack of marauding Danes. Ravensbrook stood at the very edge of a small lake. All his life, Douglas had heard about the beauty of the castle’s reflection in the glassy-calm waters, but he was not the least impressed. Let them all think what a beautiful castle Ravensbrook was, but to him, it was a bleak, formidable place.
Douglas felt again the same dark feelings he had always held for the home where he was born. “I don’t know how you can stand to live here, Alex. Now that you’ve had a taste of London, how can you be satisfied with isolation in the country?”
“I must confess, I had a marvelous time in London,” Alex replied. “There’s no stigma attached to my name in London. I could walk into a crowded room and it wouldn’t fall silent.” His face went grim. “Not like here.”
“Then don’t live here. Come live in London with me. We can hire an overseer for this place.”
“Never,” burst Alex. “Besides...” He took a moment to put his thoughts in order. “Perhaps it’s not so bad as you might think. At any rate, I am about to test the waters. I plan to attend a ball in York tomorrow night. With any luck, I expect I might be treated quite decently.”
“Lady Perry’s?” When Alex nodded, Douglas frowned and declared, “You’re asking for trouble if you go.”
Alex shook his head. “Don’t forget, twenty-five years have passed since the tragedy. Old feelings fade.”
“Do they?” Douglas’s mouth twisted skeptically. “I know you’d like to think so.”
Alex touched his brother’s arm with brotherly affection. “Ah, Douglas, you have borne the brunt of all this.”
“You’re well aware how I grew up ostracized,” said Douglas, “as was all the family, you included, although you don’t remember the worst of it. If feelings around the countryside have changed, then I’m happy for you, Alex. But as for me...” Douglas’s gaze swept over his mansion ”...there lies the symbol of everything dark, sinister, and tragic in my life. I don’t give a groat if those stiff-rumps in the ton have forgotten. My feelings will never change.”
Alex sighed. “You do remember Lady Perry?”
“Of course I remember her. She was in love with Gregory. She was devastated when the tragedy occurred. I heard that when word came Gregory had died, she was well-nigh inconsolable.”
Alex asked, “Did she also send you an invitation to her ball?”
“Yes, although I don’t know why, since I’ve always ignored her invitations. But she has been most kind to the Belingtons all these years—one of the rare few who has.”
“Then come with me, Douglas.” Alex’s eyes shone with excitement. “I was hoping you might go. You could see for yourself how attitudes have changed. You might even enjoy yourself. You might—”
“Never,” Douglas interrupted. “It would be an act of the greatest disloyalty to my
father and Gregory if I were to engage in social contact with the very people who caused their ruin.”
At a loss, Alex did not reply. They brought the horses to a walk again. Alex frowned as they rode along, casting his eyes downward as if a problem weighed heavily on his mind. Finally he spoke. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
Douglas returned a detached shrug. “Whatever you want to say, just say it.”
Alex turned his mount toward Douglas. They both reined in their horses again. “In London I met a young lady at Almack’s. Even before I met her, I was attracted, having seen her at a distance many times. When we were introduced, it was if I was powerless to resist.” A great smile lit his face. “When we danced and talked, I knew without question I had met the only woman on earth I shall ever love.”
Douglas was silent a moment, taken aback by his brother’s ebullient candor. Finally he asked, “Are you sure? As I recall, you’ve been struck by Cupid’s arrow before, only to find she was not the love of your life after all.”
Alex shook his head firmly. “She’s the one. The only one. I shall love her until the day I die. She’s at home now. She happens to live close by. In fact, very close. She—”
“No!” Douglas’s eyes widened with a mixture of dismay and disbelief as the realization struck him whom Alex must mean. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“But you will hear it,” said Alex, going against his essentially quiescent nature and not backing down. “She is Miss Alethea—”
“Don’t make me hear this.”
“Linley,” Alex said forcefully. “You will hear me this time. Yes, Alethea Linley. I know how appalled you must be, but there you have it. Shall I make it crystal clear? I, the son of the late William, Lord Belington, brother of the late, notorious Gregory, have fallen in love with—perish the thought!—a Linley. I am serious, Douglas. I want to marry the girl.”
Douglas was compelled to take a moment to get over his surprise. Never, since the tragedy that happened when he was but six years old, did he think his family would even speak to a Linley, let alone marry one. “Nothing surprises me,” he said finally. “But you do realize that such an attraction is perilous in the extreme, as well as hopeless.”
The Selfless Sister Page 3