Naturally, in the midst of such activity and anxiety, Sabrina did not feel it fair to add the threat of an annulment or divorce proceedings to William’s other problems. He was deeply distressed over what appeared to be the failure of a most promising diplomatic career. Once a man gets a reputation for being susceptible to foreign influence, he is finished. Angry as Roger was at William for the pain he had inflicted on Sabrina, he was not prepared to endure this injustice. He made the strongest representations to Canning supporting William’s patriotism, and Lord Hawkesbury backed him up with all the power he had.
Enamored of his own opinion, Canning would not back down completely. However, he realized that it would be a mistake to damn Lord Elvan. If events should fall out so that Elvan appeared to have given the correct advice—which was possible even if the advice were prejudiced—it would be very embarrassing. Canning compromised. William was recalled and offered a new mission.
After the fall of Berlin, following the Jena-Auerstedt disaster, Bonaparte had issued decrees ordering the confiscation of all British goods, the imprisonment of all British citizens, and the seizure of any ship of any nation that traded with England. Few such nations remained in Europe. One of them was Portugal, but stronger and stronger pressure was being exerted on Prince Regent João to close his country’s ports to England. Thus far he had resisted, but strength of character was not one of Prince João’s notable virtues. It would be necessary to increase the British mission in Portugal and, by combined persuasion and threat, keep the influential nobility convinced of the advantages of continued alliance with England.
William accepted the compromise with joy. Since he was convinced that the Prussian mission was hopeless, he was only too glad to be dissociated from it. Let Lord Hutchinson try to explain to Canning that Hanover was lost to England whether the Russians won or lost. The only way Hanover could have been returned to British domination was if England had furnished the driving force for a decisive victory over Bonaparte, and then that force had sat down to occupy Hanover. As it was, both Alexander and Frederick would laugh in the face of an emissary who demanded the return of Hanover.
Pleased with Lord Elvan’s easy and, indeed, grateful acceptance, Canning made some polite remarks about Sabrina, whom he had met at a number of social functions. He commented on how fortunate William was to have a wife at one and the same time beautiful and politically astute. She would be the greatest help to him on the Portuguese mission, Canning remarked. It was idle conversation really, a gracious gesture toward someone who had, in Canning’s opinion, smoothly swallowed reprimand and insult. However, since such gestures were sufficiently rare on Canning’s part, William took the comment quite seriously.
William returned to Leonie’s house full of the new mission, delighted to find Roger having tea with Leonie and Sabrina. He related what little he knew about the situation—he was to be briefed more thoroughly over the next few weeks—and mentioned how much Sabrina would enjoy Portugal, which was said to be a very beautiful country. These enthusiastic remarks were met by an embarrassed silence, which Sabrina broke.
“I will not be going with you, William,” she said. “I’m sorry if I have led you into a misunderstanding by saying nothing about it before, but I wish to dissolve our marriage.”
He looked at her for a moment, then laughed. “Come now, Sabrina, you are being ridiculous.”
“Very likely in your opinion I am,” she said steadily, but I told you when I first discovered your infidelities that I was not prepared to take other women’s leavings.”
“Sabrina!” William exclaimed. “You are indelicate!”
“I am more interested in the truth than in delicacy,” Sabrina snapped. “The first time I was willing to admit you were deceiving me, you said you had misunderstood and promised you would give me no further cause for complaint. I felt that to be possible and reasonable and agreed to forget what had happened. However, I discovered you never had any intention of keeping that promise?”
William stood up. “You are being childish and ridiculous. One does make promises to silly girls to stop their squealing but no woman has a right to demand—”
“Right or not—” Leonie began angrily.
Roger’s glance silenced her. “Whatever custom has permitted,” he said coldly, “the law actually applies equally to husband and wife. Both canon law and civil law imply that chastity is required of each partner.”
William looked at Roger as if he had suddenly sprouted two extra purple heads. “You—you intend to support Sabrina in this lunacy?”
“It is not lunacy to desire a happy marriage,” Leonie said, rising to her feet, her golden eyes nearly shooting sparks. “It is not lunacy to desire a husband whose love is only yours. It—”
“Leonie!” Again she was silenced, and Roger turned his attention to William. “To answer your question, yes, I intend to support Sabrina. I also happen to agree with my wife.”
“I cannot believe this!” William exclaimed “I have been patient and understanding far beyond the ordinary, and this is my reward. Do you realize that Sabrina has denied me my conjugal rights for more than a year?”
“I didn’t think you had noticed,” Sabrina remarked sardonically. “I’m sure you suffered no deprivation, although in bad weather it might have been an inconvenience to have to go out of the house.”
“Sabrina! That was unnecessary,” Roger snapped. “I suggest we suspend this discussion before it degenerates into a shouting of insults totally irrelevant to the basic problem. From what Sabrina has told me, this is not a new or sudden decision. She has been considering the matter since January 1806, roughly when she closed her door to you, William. No doubt this is a shock to you, and you will need time—”
“I don’t need time. I’ll never agree. This is a silly whim of a silly girl. Moreover, it’s ridiculous. I do love my wife. I married for love, as you well know, St. Eyre, since her fortune is tied up out of my hands. My amusements are none of her business.”
“You don’t know what love is, William,” Sabrina said quietly, sad now rather than angry. “Love’s first act is to set the joy of the beloved before any light diversion. I don’t say before anything. A man has duties that are more important than his beloved’s pleasure or happiness, but no amusement can be more important.”
“I haven’t noticed you setting my happiness first,” William retorted caustically.
“I did at first,” Sabrina replied. “I may not have succeeded, but I tried with all my heart to do and be what you wanted. I don’t now for a very good reason. I don’t love you. Your happiness has only as much influence on my actions as that of any other common acquaintance.”
William stared, then laughed. “I don’t believe you. You’re insane with jealousy, but no matter how crazy you are, I will not bind myself to your stupid prejudices. You are my wife. I will always honor you as such. You have no right to ask more of me than any other woman would ask.”
“I didn’t wish to go this far just now,” Roger interposed, “but you must understand that it’s impossible to dismiss the situation in this way. Sabrina is resolved to dissolve this marriage whatever the cost. It might be possible to do it quietly and privately if you will agree to an annulment. Sabrina is willing to bear the blame, or it might be possible to put the onus on me—a forced marriage.”
“Who the devil would believe that?” William sneered.
“No one, but bishops and ecclesiastical courts are scarcely incorruptible. The truth will be known, of course, but, as you yourself said, it will be Sabrina who will be thought ridiculous.”
“Even so,” William argued, “I don’t want an annulment. I love Sabrina. Eventually she will realize that she must accept life as it is and not as a silly child dreams it.”
“Unfortunately I have no intentions of doing that.” Sabrina’s voice was as cold now as her ice-blue eyes. “I will never live with you again under any circumstances, and if I must take my freedom the ha
rd way, I will obtain a divorce. There is more than sufficient evidence of your adultery available.”
“You’re mad!” William turned to Roger. “Will you permit this?”
“There is no way for me to stop it, even if I wished,” Roger pointed out. “Sabrina is mistress of her own fortune and can do as she pleases. I can’t deny that I would prefer she did not engage in an action that would doubtless ruin you both—”
“Both! I can’t see how it would ruin me,” William snarled. “She would be laughed out of court.”
“No, she would not,” Roger retorted coldly. “You may be sure that however little the judges approve of her suit, it will be so presented that they have no choice but to rule in her favor. And, however valuable you are to the Foreign Office, it will not be in their power to ignore what the court must decree.”
There was a period of dead silence. William was aware that it was largely through Roger’s efforts that he had retained his diplomatic position. At first he felt furious at the reminder. Almost at once he realized Roger was not being snide, that he meant exactly what he said. If Roger had not believed him valuable to the Foreign Office, he would not have supported him.
Diplomacy for William was a labor of love. It provided the interest in his life. He had never had the slightest desire to be a country gentleman. His estates were well managed by his younger brother, who loved the land and bucolic pleasures. Until William had met Sabrina, he had no intention of marrying, even though he recognized that the right wife was a great diplomatic asset. He had always planned to allow his brother and his already numerous progeny to inherit Elvan. When Sabrina had conceived, William had rather regretted it. He had felt he was cheating his brother, of whom he was very fond.
“William, please try not to be so angry,” Sabrina broke the tense silence. “I am ready to acknowledge that my demands are extraordinary, but I can’t help it. It’s the way I am. Call me different. Call me mad, if you like, but I cannot and will not share my man with either common or highborn whores. Perhaps you are right, and my nature is jealous. For me, the condition is so acute—”
“That it’s a mania,” William interrupted.
“Yes, if you wish,” she replied meekly, suddenly realizing that William’s pride must be salved if she were ever to get him to agree to an annulment. “But the condition is incurable, I assure you. It grows worse, not better. I don’t hate you, yet. I sincerely appreciate your good qualities, your great ability in your work, your kindness, your generosity. Be generous to me. Give me back my freedom before I learn to hate, before I learn to desire your hurt before my own good.”
The sop to his pride, the plea—and the veiled threat under it—made William reconsider. He had experience of Sabrina when she turned vicious. It was true that she did not seem to feel pain of mind or body, but attacked like a berserk thing, only intent on injuring her opponent regardless of cost to herself. He understood she was not speaking of physical injury now, but he thought her quite capable of destroying herself without a regret so long as she dragged him down with her.
He cast not Sabrina but Roger a glance of venomous dislike. This was what came of permitting women the right to use their own fortunes. They became totally ungovernable. If he had controlled Sabrina’s money, she would not have the power to make both of them ridiculous. She would simply have recovered from her jealousy. But it was his own fault for agreeing. Only there had been no way around it. St. Eyre had tied up the money so that it would have taken an act of Parliament to untie it when the girl became his ward. The legalities, William knew, had been directed as much against St. Eyre himself as her guardian, as against any future husband who might wish to take advantage of Sabrina. And there were controls on Sabrina, too. An honest man, St. Eyre.
That thought struck William forcefully as he connected it with the fact that Roger had stood up to Canning for him although it was certain he already knew that Sabrina intended to dissolve her marriage. With Canning’s name a double-headed possibility arose. Sabrina had to come to Portugal. Canning had implied her presence was necessary, possibly because of social conditions in the Portuguese court. If she refused, Canning would doubtless say the mission had to go to a married man and use that as a more acceptable excuse to shut William out.
On the other hand, he could use the political lever to move Sabrina. She really was a patriotic Englishwoman and, in addition, loved the diplomatic life as much as he did. Once she agreed to go, he might be able to change her mind. Perhaps this separation was not even Sabrina’s idea. Everyone knew that Lady Leonie was jealous as a cat, and St. Eyre did not dare take a night out on the town for fear of her. Away from Leonie’s influence, Sabrina might be more reasonable. Even if she were not, the Portuguese mission might take some time. The longer he had to reason with Sabrina, the greater the chances he would find a solution that would satisfy him and still avoid an embarrassing rupture.
“You ask me to be generous,” he said to Sabrina. “I might be willing to be generous at another time, but just now you are not asking for a gift, you are asking me to cut my own throat.”
“What do you mean?”
Sabrina was plainly startled—and concerned. William felt a flicker of satisfaction. She did care for him, no matter how she denied it. If he could find a way to convince her to admit her affections and allow him his pleasures… But he must get her to Portugal first. William described his conversation with Canning.
“That is an odd start,” Roger admitted. “If it were any other man, I would say he was making polite conversation, but Canning doesn’t make small talk. I suppose he can be as courteous as another man when he desires, but it’s not his way.”
“That was what I thought,” William agreed. “Now I’m afraid he has got wind of this lunacy of Sabrina’s and felt it would be a good way to deprive me of what he offered without political overtones.”
“That isn’t possible, Sabrina cried. “I swear I haven’t said a word to anyone except Leonie and Roger—not even Katy.” Perce knew, of course, Sabrina’s guilty mind pointed out, but Perce wouldn’t talk—not Perce. Besides, he was in East Prussia.
“Don’t be naïve, Sabrina,” William snapped. “Can your maid or my man fail to know I have not been in your bedchamber for over a year? Who knows what rumors they’ve started.”
“Not Katy!” Sabrina exclaimed.
“It makes no difference to me which one spread the word. Once such a rumor reached that grapevine of information servants seem to cultivate, it would soon start drifting upward.”
“Oh, heaven,” Sabrina said, “I want to be free, but I don’t want to hurt you, William—not unless you force me to do it.”
“Force you? I can’t protect myself!” William remarked bitterly. “After all, I can’t make you go to Portugal. Even if I were so mad as to think of abducting you, which I assure you I am not, that would scarcely serve Canning’s purpose. And if you refuse…“
“But I could be ill, or—”
“If Canning’s purpose requires a married diplomat with an active wife, it will scarcely make a difference what excuse is given,” William pointed out.
That was true. Sabrina stared at her husband, her sense of duty warring with suspicion. But he had mentioned the expectation that she would accompany him before the subject of dissolving the marriage had come up. Also, it was not likely anyone would believe she was sick when for weeks she had been attending balls, Venetian breakfasts, the theater, and the opera with indefatigable energy and enjoyment. And she did not dare use the excuse that she was breeding, because it was possible the application for annulment would claim her incapable of bearing children.
“If you will go with me,” William said into the anxious silence that had fallen over the group, “I will consider the subject of an annulment.”
“Do not do it, petite,” Leonie cried. “When you are far away—”
“Leonie!” Roger warned. William is not a monster. There is no question of cruelty or
ill-treatment.”
Sabrina thought fleetingly of the two violent episodes there had been, but she had won both of those battles and it was obvious that William had not enjoyed them. Besides, with Katy on the watch now, there really was no danger that William could mistreat her.
“No, indeed, William is not a monster,” she agreed.
“You have asked me to be generous,” William remarked. “Does that work only one way?”
“Just a moment,” Roger interposed, “this is undue influence.”
“No,” Sabrina said, “William has a perfect right to fight for his career, as I have a right to fight for my—my mania.”
She was thinking that Perce was in East Prussia and that there was absolutely no chance that she could get there. London’s Season was nearly over. If she had nothing to keep her occupied but the idle pastimes of summer in the country or at a watering place, she would go mad worrying about him. Would it not be better to go to Portugal, where she would be occupied? If Perce came home, Leonie would let her know and she could return to England at once. There was no way William could hold her. Perhaps she could even convince William that the dissolution of their marriage would be best for both of them. Now that her intention was out in the open, they could talk about it. And he would be under obligation to her for accompanying him at his request.
“Brina!” Leonie cried.
“I assure you, Lady Leonie,” William said coldly, “that I have no intention of trying to beat your cousin into submission or locking her up and starving her if she agrees to come. In fact, you should realize that the situation itself would preclude such behavior, if my character did not. Sabrina must be willing and cheerful to be of use to me, and she could destroy me if she wished to make a scandal. Besides,” he added bitterly, “there is no way I could keep her in Portugal if she wished to leave the country. I assume she will make her own banking arrangements, as usual.”
The Kent Heiress Page 25