“I was told,” I began firmly, “that it is you who is responsible for my residence and for my upkeep, not the Earl of Connaught. I was told that he left me nothing, that the house was to be sold over my head. Is it true?”
He looked uncomfortable as though I had discovered a shameful secret.
“Yes, it is true,” he confirmed quietly.
“Why? And why did you not tell me?”
“Why?” He repeated. “Because it was my fault, that is why. He came here, the day he left you. He was very angry and he told me he was going to sell the house and your jewels and that I had better be prepared to take you back here."
"Oh, and you did not want that did you?"
"No, but that was not the only reason. It was my fault he had left you with nothing and I did not want you to know that. I was the one who deceived the Earl into marrying you. I knew his only reason for marrying was to procure an heir and I knew that you were likely to be barren, but I went ahead with the arrangement anyway. I was not likely to find another titled gentleman to wed you, was I? I was not likely to find anyone to wed you, knowing that you could never bear a child.” He paused and looked at me with a plea in his eyes. “I thought it was for the best at the time, but I was wrong. I thought he would be bound to fall in love with you, with your beauty and your modesty, and then the question of a son would be irrelevant. I did not understand how important those things are to the aristocracy.”
I was shaking my head, unable to find words with which to reply. I had been very angry and now I just felt deflated. Had he really believed it was for the best?
“I loved my wife, you see,” he went on. “It would not have mattered to me if the child had died, my baby son. It did matter that she died and I will never understand how a man can put his baby before his wife. I am not of the same world, Rachel. Forgive me.”
What else could I do but forgive him? Perhaps he did have the best intentions, even though I begged him not to force a marriage to anyone. If he loved his wife so much, I would have thought he might have more understanding, like my new friend who was so concerned for his wife’s happiness.
It was the following day that Lord Summerville returned with his Countess, a shy little thing who curtsied and kept her eyes cast down the whole time, even after we sat. This man had filled me with a lifetime’s worth of confidence in a few short hours and yet I did not know which one to pity more.
CHAPTER FIVE
So I had found friendship in the most unlikely place. The Earl was so charming and so good looking, women turned their heads as he passed, their eyes followed him wherever he went. I do not believe I have ever seen that look in the eyes of a woman before, but his wife was strange, more like a child than a grown woman.
She sat and stared down at her own hands, not looking up for anything. I was the very last person to know how to engage someone in conversation, but I did my best. Every question I asked was met with a nod or a shake of the head and I looked over her head at the Earl in desperation. He merely shrugged, as though this scene was not new to him. The afternoon was dragging when His Lordship said he had an appointment.
“It will not take long, My Lady,” he said. “Perhaps my wife could stay here with you.” He turned to her then with a sigh, but also a gentle smile, like a kind uncle to a child. “Will that be acceptable, Rosemary?” He asked gently. “You would prefer to talk to Lady Rachel alone, would you not?”
She nodded but still did not raise her eyes, at least not until she heard her husband depart the house. Then she looked at me, and there was a discernible though silent sigh of relief. She was a lovely girl, dark auburn hair and beautiful green eyes, but she did not seem to ever smile. She was staring across the room at a porcelain doll I had rescued from my short lived childhood.
She got to her feet and walked over to the doll, then picked it up and held it against her as though it were a child. Then she came back to her seat, keeping the doll in her arms.
I asked her what sort of things she liked to do with herself and had to lean forward to hear her reply.
“I paint a little,” she said. “Not very well though.”
“I am sure your paintings are beautiful,” I tried to assure her, but she only shook her head.
“How long have you been married?” I persevered, wondering what I would say next once that question was answered.
“Two years I think, My Lady,” she said quietly.
Think? Did she not know?
“And children? Do you have children?”
Suddenly her eyes widened and she looked alarmed.
“I do not think I would like that,” she said quickly. “It is not nice.”
Not nice. What a very odd thing to say, and was she talking about the act that led to childbirth or the birth itself? I could well understand her reluctance for the former, though I had believed that was my own special burden.
A noise outside made her jump slightly but she relaxed again when she realised what it was. I reluctantly decided that the only way to find the answer to the Earl's question was to ask her outright.
“My Lady,” I said softly, “are you afraid of your husband?”
She looked up at me briefly, then nodded.
“Why? Is he unkind to you?”
I had a vivid memory of the terrible beatings my mother had endured at the hands of my father, but although I asked the question, I could hardly believe that any woman would be afraid of Lord Summerville. He had always been kindness itself to me and I could not accept that to be merely a facade for my benefit. And if it was, what did he hope to gain from it? I would not be his mistress, that would never be my role in life, as a mistress would have needs and desires that were stolen from me.
Rosemary was shaking her head.
“No, My Lady,” she said firmly. “He is anything but unkind. It is not how he treats me but what he might want from me that I fear.”
“Want from you?”
This conversation was getting very personal, not subjects that should be discussed between strangers, not even two women, but I somehow felt a kinship with her fears if they were what I suspected them to be.
“Yes, My Lady,” she was saying. “I know enough to know what men want from a wife and I cannot face it. I am scared that if I do not keep him away, he might try that again."
I did not want to pursue this line of conversation. I knew precisely what Rosemary meant but I did not know if he suffered from some sort of brutal perversion or if she was inhibited. I guessed the latter, as talking to this girl I felt that I was talking to a child. The wedding night must have been an unparalleled disaster if it had been two years and she still feared a repeat of it but from the looks that followed him everywhere he went, I was quite sure that His Lordship was getting satisfaction elsewhere.
It was then that the door opened and he entered. I watched his wife freeze, as though she wanted somewhere to run away and hide, but there was nowhere.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting, My Lady,” he said quietly, then held out his arm for his wife to take. She did so reluctantly. “We do not want to outstay our welcome,” he went on.
They left, leaving me to ponder what had happened. I pitied this girl who seemed to have been pushed into a marriage that she could never be happy with, but more than that I pitied the Earl.
He called on me the following day, alone this time.
“My Lady,” he said immediately. “I feel I ought to seek your forgiveness for yesterday. I had this idea that you might be able to learn what troubled my wife, since she refuses to tell me. It was very wrong of me to take advantage like that.”
“No matter,” I replied.
For the very first time in my life I felt that someone needed me, needed me for myself and my opinion and experience, not my body or my beauty. I was rather pleased, and intended to answer him, even though the subject was embarrassing to me.
“Did you?” He said. “Did you learn anything? Is there anything I can do to help her, or should
I abandon the marriage as a lost cause?”
I felt uncomfortable discussing such intimate details with any man and I hardly knew him or his poor wife. But he had asked me for a favour and I owed him that much, owed him an honest observation.
“Forgive me, My Lord, but your wife is a child.” I paused then, trying to think of the right words. It seemed to me that Rosemary was afraid of what I was afraid of, though I had no idea what to call it. Love had nothing to do with it as far as I was concerned. “She is terrified of the act of intimacy, if that is what you have done to her, and will never accept it as normal. That is what I learned, if it is of any use.” I paused and drew a deep breath to enable me to go on. "Her parents were cruel to make her marry. I believe she is one of those unfortunate people who will always be childlike."
His expression did not change and I felt I was not telling him anything that he did not already know.
“I feel I am trespassing on your good nature, but I really do not have anyone else with whom I can share this.” He paused thoughtfully, as though wondering whether to go on. At last he did and it was an intimate revelation I could have lived without knowing. “My marriage to Rosemary has never been consummated. She was so afraid I could not..” He broke off then, leaving me to wonder whether he actually wanted a reply.
“A marriage like that can be annulled, I believe, My Lord,” I said quietly, wondering why he had not thought of that himself.
“Yes, I know,” he said, “but it would require proof, would it not? An examination of some sort to confirm that she is still a virgin.”
I nodded, suddenly terrified as I recalled that day when my mother and I had arrived at my uncle’s house, when his physician had examined me after my ordeal. I was not about to recommend that be done to any other woman.
I looked up at the Earl, blushing, almost sure that he had read my thoughts and could see what I could see. And I could not believe that I was actually having this conversation with a man, especially a man I had known for such a brief time. He was shaking his head.
“I cannot subject her to anything so invasive,” he said quietly. “It would be grossly unfair and it is unfair to be talking about her like this.”
“What will you do?”
“I will send her back to Summerville Hall, to my mother, and promise not to go near her again. That should at least give her some peace even if I do have to forget any idea of having a son to succeed me. I was hoping that you might know of some way I could help her, or someone could help her, but if what you say is true, she cannot be helped.”
His words tore at my heart, he sounded so disappointed, but I could feel his eyes on me for a few minutes before he took my hand and raised it to his lips.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “And please, please forgive me. You have done me a great service this day and with your help I may be able to break away from her. We will both be happier, I think.”
“My help? What does that mean exactly, My Lord?”
My mind was full of images, memories of my late husband, of the King and of my tenth birthday. My stomach heaved at the recollections.
“It means that I have become fond of you.”
I tore my hand from his grasp.
“No!” I cried, shaking my head. “I will never be your mistress, My Lord, never!”
He looked even sadder all at once.
“Rachel,” he said soothingly, “that was not what I had in mind. I understand, or think I do, that something was done to you, something horrendous that you would hide your beauty away as you do. How could I not notice how you flinched when I took your hand that first time, how you stiffen when anyone admires you? That is why I thought you might be able to talk to my wife. I would never ask anything of you, never.”
“What then? Nobody wants me for a wife, thank God, not since I am barren. And anyway you are already married.”
The concern that crossed his face at that was almost tangible, but he asked no questions. He put his arm around me and as we sat down together, he held me close to him and pressed my head against his shoulder. For the first time in my life, I felt loved and valued. It was a very intoxicating emotion.
The following day he was back again, this time with a gift.
“I want you to come for a ride with me, in the park,” he said at once. “It is a lovely day and in return for helping me, I wish to get you out in the fresh air.”
“No,” I said immediately. “I will not be paraded around the park like some ornament on your arm or anyone else’s.”
“I thought you would say something like that,” he replied. “That is why I brought you this.”
Under his arm he had a rolled up piece of cloth and now he shook it out to reveal a hooded cloak of black velvet.
“No one will even notice you in this, and if they do they will think you are a widow and pay no attention.” He stopped talking while he placed the cloak around my shoulders and lifted the hood over my hair and headdress. The cloak was voluminous, designed to cover my skirts and my entire body up to my neck. I could not help but laugh. “Most people, especially women," he went on, "would be anxious to cover themselves if they were ugly or had some sort of deformity, not because they are too beautiful.”
“Most men would be wanting something from me, not befriending me and helping me to hide.”
“Oh, Rachel,” he said quietly, shaking his head, “do not think me immune to your attractions. A man would have to be blind not to stir at the sight of you. But you are entitled to do whatever you want and what you want is of more importance to me than what I might want. One day, I hope you might trust me enough to tell me what horrors you have suffered, but that too will be your decision.”
***
So began for me a time of knowing what friendship actually was. I was distrustful of the Earl at first, wondering all the time when he would make some sort of move to change the nature of our relationship, but it never happened. While he spent time with me, either riding in his carriage or playing cards at my house, I know that he had more than one woman who was happy to give him what he needed. He did not spend all his time with me.
He had not been home to Summerville Hall in Suffolk for a year or more. He had promised his wife that he would not go near her and he had not done so, but he needed to be there in order to run his estate.
“I have had the east wing separated from the rest of the house,” he told me, “so that I can be in my own house without scaring my wife. Do you not find that an amusing state of affairs, My Lady?”
He was being facetious, of course, mocking himself I think and my heart went out to him.
“I find it a very sad state of affairs, Richard,” I replied. “You do not have to suffer a loveless marriage. We talked about it before.”
“And you agreed with me that it was unfair,” he replied quietly.
“I did, but she must understand why it is necessary. She will be relieved to have the marriage annulled, surely, and you must remarry. You must have an heir. I did not understand when it was done to me; I was but ten years old.”
There, I had said it and now I wished I had held my tongue. He looked at me with a frown of curiosity, and I was very much afraid he was going to ask questions, want to know why a ten year old should be subjected to such an examination. Of course, he did not. He was far too empathic for that.
“I will consider it,” he finally replied with a sigh. “To tell you the honest truth, I thought I could do this, keep my promise, but now I am not so sure. I am beginning to resent her, even wish her dead. Is that not a terrible thing to think?”
“I cannot tell you how many times I wished my late husband dead,” I replied. “And my father. If wishes could kill, he would have been the first one to go.”
Once more I saw the compassion in his eyes as he looked at me.
I reached out and touched his arm, and I realised that I had never before made any overtures of affection, that I had always been afraid that any sign of affection would be misconst
rued. But he merely turned and studied me for a few moments and I knew that I was in no danger. I hugged him then, something that I had never done nor wanted to do before. I really, really loved this man, and I so wanted to help him for all he had done for me. He was like the brother I never had.
“I have to return to Summerville,” he said. “I would like very much for you to come with me, but I feel that would be unfair to Rosemary and heaven knows what my mother would have to say about it!” He laughed then, and it was a joy to behold. “I have kept my relationship with my wife a close secret from her.”
“What would she do if she knew?”
“I believe she would march into Rosemary’s chamber and tell her to grow up! I think she would subject her to a long lecture about the duties of a wife and scare the life out of her.” He gave a little smile, probably imagining his mother’s outrage at her handsome and charming son being rejected by his own wife, when women all over London were falling over their feet to invite him to their beds. I suppose it was an amusing scenario, when one thought about it.
So he went back to Suffolk and I did not see him again for many months. I had no reason during those months to leave the house, but I had a new maidservant whose job it was to wait only on me and she was a girl who knew precisely what was going on in the city outside.
She turned up on my doorstep late one night and proceeded to curl up there to sleep. When I was told, I naturally took her in and found she was homeless and hungry. I needed a maid and more than that, with Richard gone, I needed a friend and I could feel an affinity with this girl that I could not have felt with the other servants.
She was grateful for the position and I did not believe she would try to rob me. Her name was Lucy and she was always cheerful and bubbly and if I wanted to know anything, I had only to ask. What she did not already know she would go and find out.
Queen Jane had died just twelve days after the birth of the much longed for prince and a new marriage had been arranged for King Henry. This was a foreign princess who he had never met, but he had sent his portrait painter, Hans Holbein to Flanders to capture her image. She was to come to England to marry the King without ever having set eyes on him.
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