Estelle stared, her eyes widening.
"There is no need to be so surprised," Bethany went on. "Your father is a very important man. It is only natural for other important men to want to join their families with his." She stopped talking and sighed softly. "I can see we should have explained all this before now. The truth is, we both agreed you were too young to concern yourself with such things. We did not want you to feel pressured into doing something you might regret. But I am sure once these young men see how beautiful you are, there will be many more offers."
"And I am to simply go along with that?" She protested.
"What do you think?" Bethany answered with a smile. "Offers may be considered, but they will not be accepted without your consent. Any man who wants to marry you will have to take the trouble to get to know you, not simply ask for you like some sort of commodity. Your father will think first about what you want, about your happiness."
"That is easy," she answered. "I want what you have. I want a man who will love me as much as my father loves you. I want a man I can adore as you adore him."
Her mother laughed gently.
"That is not an easy order, Estelle," she replied. "I do not think any woman can love a man as much as I love your father, but we will do our best."
Then she turned away toward the window and watched her husband riding away on his huge black stallion. He had bred and trained this horse himself to replace his faithful mount, Ebony, who now enjoyed retirement in the far pasture. Estelle could see past her mother, could see him riding away, and she tried to understand a little of what she felt. He did present a magnificent figure; he was very handsome, even now, and he had the most beautiful smile.
Bethany’s eyes followed Richard and while she watched him, her thoughts were racing. She knew this day would come, the day when her children would want to know about their parents’ past, and she thought she would be prepared for that day. But the years had raced past too quickly; it seemed no time at all since Estelle was born, since she nearly died having Alex, since Anthony paid the price for his treason. Now she had to decide what to tell her daughter, how to answer her questions without diminishing her parents in her eyes.
There were things she would never reveal, things she and Richard had promised each other their children would never know, and now she needed to sort through her memories to decide which ones were safe to disclose.
Estelle waited for her to turn back to face her; she had more questions, foremost in her mind was why her parents should be quite so besotted with each other after all these years. She wondered what sort of answer she might get if she were to ask; probably none at all but it was worth trying.
"You and my father," I began hesitantly, "you still love each other very much.”
"Yes, we do," she answered, still gazing at the landscape outside.
“Have you always been like this? You never seem to disagree about anything.”
Bethany smiled reflectively.
"I lost him once," she said.
Estelle’s surprise showed in her arched eyebrow.
“You did? I cannot imagine such a thing.”
“I did not expect to ever see him again. We both thought we hated each other for a long time." She stopped talking and drew a deep breath. "We know what it was like to be apart and that makes what we have now all the more precious.”
"How did you come to part?"
"It was a bad time,” she answered in a mournful tone. “He was devoutly Catholic, I was Protestant." She paused and swallowed. "I promised him I would follow his faith, but I could not do it, not when my family and friends were being persecuted. So I let him down, and it drove us apart. Remember, Estelle, never to make promises you may not be able to keep. It was the unhappiest time of my life."
Estelle should have known her mother would lay no blame at his feet, she would claim it all to herself. She thought there had to be more to it than that, but she would not ask. It was unlikely she would be given an answer.
"How did you come together again?" She asked.
"Your sister died," Bethany said simply. "We met again when she was taking her last breaths. We found comfort in each other; we discovered we did still care for each other after all."
Finally she turned back to Estelle and sat down beside her once more, taking her hand again.
"There is one thing I would like you to promise me if Lady Rachel should agree to our plan. It would perhaps be better if you did not tell anyone here where you will be staying."
"What? Why?"
"Because servants gossip, and they spread their gossip to others."
“You cannot leave it there,” Estelle protested. “You cannot tell me that much and no more. That is very unfair.”
"Lady Rachel saved my life once, at great risk to her own. I am not going to tell you how, so please do not ask, but trust me. She is a very important person in my life and in your father's life, but people have always had the wrong impression of her."
"What sort of impression?" She asked.
"People just cannot accept that a handsome man and a beautiful woman can be merely good friends, which she and your father have been for many years. They have always assumed her to be his mistress."
Estelle caught her breath and her eyes widened. This was obviously why Caroline had been so embarrassed and why Rachel never visited the house named for her.
"His mistress?" Estelle repeated at last.
"Yes. For many years she had her own house here, the house that is now the orphan home and people accepted her. Then your father met and married me and things changed. People were not kind to her after that; they believed she was coming between us and each time she came here, they assumed the affair they had invented was still going on. That is why she gave her house over to serve as an orphan home, and that is why she never comes here now."
“Does it not trouble you?” Estelle asked. “The gossip, I mean. If people believe those things, what must they say about you?”
"Estelle," she went on, "I do not care what they say. I know the truth and you must not also get the wrong idea about their friendship. She was alone and had no male relative to escort her at court, nor to protect her. I believe she helped your father over some private matter concerning his first wife, and in return he served as her proxy male relative. The fact that she has remained a friend is what people cannot understand, so they slander her name and if you tell them where you will be staying, no doubt they will not be slow in telling you all about it."
"I cannot believe you are sending me to stay with a woman who everybody believed to be my father's mistress, even if it were not true."
Estelle watched her for a moment. Did she really believe this relationship was only a friendship? She did not think she would believe such a tale were she in her place, and she wondered if perhaps the villagers were right in their assumption. Estelle did not like the idea of her father deceiving her though, and it seemed very unlikely that he would. But after what she had just disclosed, who knew? Perhaps this woman was his mistress while they were separated.
"Your father and I have never been concerned about the opinions of other people. Besides, there is nothing disreputable about being the mistress of an earl," she insisted. "It is a perfectly respectable position. It is things like this you would have learned about and accepted a long time ago had we sent you away like other families.”
“What does that mean?”
“Very often a marriage is arranged between children and the girl will go and live with the boy’s family from a very young age, sometimes little more than a baby. We did not want that for you; we wanted to have our daughter with us, be raised by us.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“You may find that some of the titled gentlemen you will meet, fathers of other young ladies, have mistresses as well as their wives. That is often one of the consequences of an arranged marriage and while there is no love involved, everyone seems to accept things."
Estelle held he
r gaze for a few moments, her mind in a whirl with these new ideas, ideas she did not find particularly welcome.
"My father has never had such a thing, has he?" She asked sharply.
"When his first wife was alive, yes he did. He had many mistresses then, but Rachel was never one of them. Now he has no need of another woman in his life," she replied. "He has a wife whom he loves and who loves him. That is the difference. Some of these people actually think it a little uncivilised for a man to be in love with his wife."
Again, Estelle could only stare.
"Rachel still means a lot to your father," her mother went on, "and she has been a good friend to me. That is all you need to remember."
"Why did he not marry her if she means so much to him?"
"After the unhappy experience of his first marriage," Bethany said, "the only reason your father ever had to remarry was to procure an heir to his title and estates. That is why he married me; that is why he chose a wife as young as me. You must have realised he was twice my age when we married."
Estelle nodded, although it was something to which she had given little consideration.
"He may well have married Rachel when his first wife died, but for the knowledge that she was unable to bear children. He was never in love with her, and she had no wish to marry him." She sighed softly and paused for a few moments. "Of course, if you do not wish to stay with her, there is always the Earl your father intended to apply to."
Estelle shook her head. She never thought about her father having a mistress, or any other woman apart from his first wife. She had never really thought about it at all, but on reflection it seemed unlikely that he would have remained alone during the years between his two marriages and now she was being told he was not faithful to his first wife. She could not help but wonder if that was the reason it was unsuccessful, but that just did not seem like her father somehow. He was always fair, he always kept his promises; that was his way. Estelle was very confused.
This was a huge house, spread over four floors including the attics and the basements. There were over one hundred rooms altogether, and Estelle and her brothers were always allowed wherever they liked as long as someone knew where to find them for the sake of safety. The east wing was always sealed off and since Father McEntire died it had just remained deserted.
There was but one place where they were not free to visit whenever they wished and that was their parents' bedchamber. Nobody went in there unless they were sent for, not the family, not the servants, nor anybody else. It was their private sanctuary and the children had been taught from an early age that even in the morning, they did not enter until their parents emerged.
Once when Estelle was small, she had sneaked inside, early in the morning. She knew it was forbidden, but she had some complaint about Joshua and she was not prepared to wait. She hid from her nurse and tried to open the door; it was locked from the inside, which bothered her at the time. But she knew the adjoining chamber also had a door which led into that one, so she went round that way and found it open.
She tiptoed in quietly, somewhat fearful lest there was some secret she should not know. She could never imagine just why they were not allowed to share this place with them; they shared everything else with them. She stood and looked about for a few moments, trying to see what was so special about this one room that the children had no access to it. She did not worry that they might be angry; she had never seen either of them angry and it never occurred to her that they could be.
She stood looking toward the bed, yet there was nothing to see but the heavy red velvet bed curtains drawn together. She crept over and parted the curtains just enough to slip through quietly and peeped over the headboard. She had to stand on tiptoe to see and what she saw was the tops of her parents' heads as her mother lie in her father's arms. He was lying on his back and she was lying half on top of him, her head resting on his chest, her arm across his body. Then she moved up to kiss his mouth and Estelle saw her breasts resting on his. As she moved Estelle could see between the covers and she saw that both of them were naked. She gasped, too shocked to move and her mother opened her eyes and saw her. She smiled.
"How did you get in here, Estelle?" She asked gently. "I thought we locked the door."
"I did," said her father.
Estelle just turned and pointed at the door she had used and they smiled at each other.
"We must not forget that one in future," she told him. "Just imagine if she had come in a few minutes earlier."
Then she told Estelle to wait downstairs for her and she was not about to argue. In fact, after what she had seen, she was very anxious to escape. So, she knew that married people slept together naked, although she never found out until much later exactly what she missed by not coming in a few minutes earlier.
She told her brothers as soon as she got the chance, but they would not believe her, neither of them. They said naked bodies were private and there was no way their parents would be showing each other their bodies. She expected they knew better by now.
When they came downstairs Estelle asked them why the door was locked, why not even the servants were allowed to enter their chamber.
“Because marriage is a private thing," her mother replied. "One day you will understand."
Now she told her what actually went on between a husband and wife and Estelle rather wished she had not.
"I do not tell you these things to frighten you,” Bethany said. “I tell you because it makes it so much easier when you marry. I knew nothing when I married, I had no idea what to expect, and I was very nervous. I was fortunate enough to have married a man who understood that and who was experienced himself. Otherwise it could have been a disaster that ruined things for the rest of our lives. It also makes it easier for the man if his wife knows what is expected of her. Ignorant wives have been known to think they have married a deviant."
Estelle grimaced.
“It sounds horrible,” she said.
“I suppose it does, but trust me; it is the most natural thing to do with a man you love, to become one with him.”
Estelle made no reply. Her mind was full of the image conjured up by her mother’s words.
"You may meet people who will tell you it is a sin," she was saying now. "The Catholic church always preached that it is a sin to glean pleasure from the act."
"But my father is Catholic," she protested. "Does he think it is a sin?"
She gave a little wistful smile and shook her head.
“Your father does not blindly follow whatever the church tells him. He believes we should use our reasoning powers and the brains God gave us. The church preaches about the proper way to consummate a marriage, they have rituals of undressing the bride and putting her to bed to await her bridegroom. Some people still do things this way, so do not be surprised if it is talked about."
"Is that what happened with you?"
"No. It is what I expected, but your father would never allow servants or anyone in our bedchamber. He always said it was our private place and what went on there was not to be shared with anybody else."
"So you married him, a stranger, then let him take you into the bedchamber alone. You must have been afraid."
She smiled again, then stood up and beckoned Estelle to join her at the window.
"You see the church tower peeping out from the trees there?" She said.
Estelle nodded.
"There is an oak tree close by in a small clearing. That was our place. That is where we had our first time together."
"Out in the open?"
"Yes. Very sinful and immoral I imagine. And yes, I was afraid, but he quickly showed me there was nothing to fear. I fell in love with him there, in that clearing. My life was never the same after that."
***
When Estelle left her mother she was anxious to ponder on the things she had learned. She made her way to the gallery where hung the portraits of all the Earls and Countesses of Summerville for the past two hundred y
ears. She studied the portrait of Rosemary, her father's first wife. She had passed it many times on her way to other parts of the house, but had never really stopped to notice it before. Rosemary was a very slight girl, who looked more like a child than a woman. She had auburn hair and she looked wistful and sad.
"I did not want her portrait hanging here," her father's voice came from behind her, making her jump. "It was your mother who insisted she was entitled to a place."
There was an edge to his voice and Estelle could hear the dislike in his tone. He had never spoken about her before and she had never asked, never really wanted to know.
"May I ask you something about her?"
"You may ask," he replied, with the definite implication that he may not answer.
"Mother told me you had mistresses when Rosemary was your wife."
He raised a surprised eyebrow.
"What of it?" He demanded.
"Was she unfaithful to you?" She asked hesitantly. "Is that why you did the same?"
To her surprise he began to laugh.
"That I could have understood," he said, still laughing. "If only it were that simple."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving his daughter none the wiser about the mysterious Rosemary.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lady Rachel agreed at once to allowing Estelle to stay with her and presenting her at court.
Estelle wished somebody had warned her though. When she first saw her, she quite took Estelle’s breath away. Although she was getting on in years, she was the most stunningly beautiful creature Estelle had ever seen. She caught her breath and Rachel responded with a knowing little smile; this was a scene she was well used to.
She looked a lot like Lady Summerville, but there was something more that Estelle could not have described had her life depended on it.
She curtsied at once.
"It is very good of you, My Lady, to allow me to stay," she said. "My father and mother are very grateful."
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