One of the Cardinals came back to Rebecca for another dance. His voice was familiar, though she couldn’t place it.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Oh, yes!”
“This is your first masquerade,” he said.
“How did you know?”
“I can see it in your eyes, the excitement of something new,” he answered suggestively. She should have turned, walked away, left him on the dance floor, but she was intoxicated with spirits and the freedom of her anonymity. “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked.
Her heart pounding, she answered, “Yes,” and let him lead her onto the gravel walk. Other couples were walking and lights illuminated the path; she felt safe.
“Do you do this often?” she asked.
“Do what often?” he countered with a wicked, but still friendly smile.
“Take unknown women for walks in the garden.” She could be just as frivolous.
“Well, when one is in Rome…” he said.
“So you are not from here?”
“London? No. I am here…visiting friends.”
“Are you a spy?” she asked with a laugh.
“Why no—I am a Cardinal!” he answered.
Rebecca held his arm casually; she felt like a young girl again, free, beautiful, and admired. She soon realized that the path was darker and the shadows longer; in the dark she could hear the voices of lovers as well as other peculiar noises.
“We must go back,” she said, turning him with gentle pressure.
“Yes, we must,” he said, but stopped. She could see in the dim light, his face, a mask covering all but his eyes and mouth. She knew that she should be afraid or insulted, but she felt, instead, a desire to kiss him.
His kiss was gentle and a little hesitant. He increased the pressure as she kissed back. His hands touched her throat and lightly brushed on the top of her bodice. She didn’t think of what she was doing, so hungry for the touch and afraid that she would break the spell. In the back of her mind, she remembered Davis, but the pain of his recent rejection pushed rational thought from her head. She let herself be swept away by the stranger’s touch and caress on her eager body. He bent to kiss the tops of her breasts, his hands fondling the thin layers of the fabric of her skirt. I can’t, I shouldn’t, she thought. As his hand reached into her blouse, she gently pushed him away and said, “I’m sorry.”
“No one ever needs to know,” he said, reaching for her again, but she put her hands on his arms to keep him away.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I should not have come with you.”
“Is it money?” he asked and Rebecca felt her body go cold at his words.
“I am not a whore!” she whispered violently.
“Of course you’re not,” he sniggered and walked off.
Rebecca sobered quickly, tears stinging her eyes. She looked around to see if anyone had heard the exchange. The shadows were still engaged in their own pursuits as though she weren’t there. She took a few minutes to compose herself then walked back to the light, seeking Althea so she could go home.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” a familiar voice behind her questioned.
She turned, ready to slap whoever it was, but she recognized the eyes and bit her lip to keep from crying. “Michael,” she said with a catch in her throat that was becoming familiar. “I should have known you would be here.” She turned away so he couldn’t see the tears falling over her mask.
“Are you upset?” he asked.
She closed her eyes, gave up and took off the mask so she could wipe her face. “I am fine. Just fine,” she answered bitterly.
He handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her nose and her eyes and handed it back to him. “I told Davis it wasn’t safe for you to be here alone.”
“Davis?” She laughed angrily. “I should have expected him to be with you instead of with me. He hasn’t sent you to make sure I don’t embarrass him further, has he?”
“No; I came for myself.”
“Susanne’s not here? Of course she is not; she’s at home with Laurence. I would suggest that we have been abandoned for better company, but that may be true for only one of us.” The pain in her eyes told Michael who she was referring to.
“Let me take you home,” he offered firmly.
She sniffed and laughed derisively. “No thank you. I wouldn’t like to spoil your evening.”
He removed his mask and took her arm. “You are a stubborn woman,” he said as he led her out of the Gardens. She followed but protested under her breath; suddenly he stopped and dropped her arm.
“What?” she asked and looked up at him. His face softened and she followed his eyes. Davis was waiting by his carriage. He didn’t see Michael and Rebecca at first, but as he turned and recognized them, she saw him smile at her, a relaxed, peaceful smile that she had not seen in months. She swallowed hard. “Did you bring him here?” she asked.
“No; I suppose he came for you,” Michael answered.
Rebecca didn’t move and stared at Davis. He was so handsome when he smiled, his jaw perfectly square and strong. She missed his arms, being held while they danced, in bed. He had vehemently turned down her requests to accompany her and now he was here, seeming to offer himself to her when she felt her lowest. “I should go to him” she said to Michael, a statement that nevertheless sounded like a question.
But Michael didn’t know how to answer, not sure of what she would be going to.
Chapter Twenty
August 1776
Susanne waved as the last of her guests left Elysian Fields. She was pleased at the success of the party, the first in decades at the estate. Her ball was the official signal of the rebirth of Elysian Fields and the residents of Wickingham could not have been happier. Although the old Earl remained despised, Michael had always been a favorite by many in the village. His young, beautiful Countess was popular and Laurence was a welcome symbol of the new beginning they craved. The prosperity of the estate, after all, affected every one of them. And Elysian Fields was becoming prosperous.
The details of how this happened would never be fully known to the people of Wickingham; Davis’ part in it had been well-hidden. All the people knew or cared to know was that their farms were thriving, workers were paid and the dark days of the old Earl were now history.
Though she was delighted at her success, Susanne was also grateful that the event was over and she could concentrate her energies on the preparations for the new baby. Rebecca would remain at the estate until the baby was born, though Davis would be returning to London in a matter of hours. As she walked back inside, Laurence ran into her skirts in greeting; she wanted to pick him and up and swing him around as his uncle and father did, but he was too big for her. She settled for ruffling his hair.
“Uncle Davis no ride,” he said in his sweet toddler voice. Davis had promise to take his nephew on his horse and ride him out to where the ancient Roman road could still be seen. But Davis had been upstairs with Rebecca all morning and it wasn’t likely that he would have time before he left for London.
Susanne tried to explain this to Laurence adding, “He will be back next month and he can take you then.”
Laurence accepted this answer. He knew Uncle Davis never broke a promise; he always came through, just not always when he said he would.
When she walked in, she saw Michael at the foot of the stairs looking concerned. Susanne could hear the argument through the thick oak doors and down the stairs. Her look was a question and Michael responded with a shrug. Who could know what had happened now?
*************************
“You knew that I would have to return today,” Davis said in the calm manner that felt to Rebecca like patronizing. It infuriated her.
“Of course, Davis. I shouldn’t expect any wishes of mine to interfere with your duty to the king,” she sarcastically replied.
“It is this duty that you have so little regard for that enables you to
lord over your friends every shiny bauble you own.”
“Of course, of course. How dare I hope for a fraction of time with my husband where he might actually be thinking of me and not of his other ‘obligations’!” Rebecca liked the word “obligations”; it was nicer than distractions or mistress, though Davis still denied there was one.
“You are not an obligation—,” he said, weary of the same argument.
“You are right; I am an annoyance. I am a pesky fly that begs for your attention, but gets flicked in response!”
“Rebecca, now you are being ridiculous.”
“Yes, I am; but you seem to see me only when I am ridiculous, theatrical. If it were the only attention you received from the person you loved, you would be that way too!” she cried.
Davis was tired of the fight, the accusations; he tried to be the husband Rebecca needed but she needed so much. When he had met her at the Gardens the night of the masquerade, he had intended to make himself more available to her physically and emotionally, even if it meant socializing with Cecil and Althea. But when Rebecca walked up to him waiting by the carriage door to sweep her in, she took his hand and said, “I suppose your other distractions proved more boring than me.”
There were good moments, but they were becoming fewer. They hadn’t been at St. Clare’s but a few weeks when Davis was summoned back to London. His work and support in the House of Lords had been rewarded with an appointment to the Office of the Exchequer. Rebecca was alone on the estate for a week then began a round of visits that included Elysian Fields. She was the first visitor to the still being renovated home and Susanne was delighted to play hostess. At Christmas, Davis met her in Bath where they spent a couple of weeks. He was familiar and comforting, but their time was too short. When they parted, she felt on stable ground again. But when she returned to London for the Season, he seemed again always too busy with work. The round of social events which had been entertaining before was now redundant. She thought that she would go mad from the sameness of the days.
Before the Season ended, Susanne announced her pregnancy and the old chill seeped back into Rebecca and Davis’ marriage. Now every time Davis was away from her felt like a rejection. His late nights signaled another woman to her. She knew there was constant speculation within their circle as to when Davis would divorce Rebecca and marry someone capable of producing an heir. That there was a mistress, no one doubted; who she was no one knew.
Rebecca felt like a broken machine whose owner wasn’t ready to toss, but who nevertheless resented the occupied space. She spent money joylessly, purchasing objects for homes that were not happy. At first the idea of being around her fertile sister seemed more than she could bear, but it was better than a miserably hot summer in London or being alone at St. Clare’s.
Rebecca had known when they arrived that Davis could not stay more than a night at Elysian Fields, but she wasn’t above making him feel guilty about it. Davis finally said what all men have said for millennia when they knew they could not win an argument with their irrational wife: “We will discuss this later.”
Later never came. Davis left within the hour; Rebecca put on a smile, but her eyes were still miserable. Nevertheless, she kissed him goodbye. When she went back into the house, Susanne asked if she was well.
“Of course,” she answered cheerfully. “I just miss him already.” But Michael saw her fingers flutter to her throat.
*************************
Rebecca took Laurence on his promised ride. She was uncertain that he would sit still so she kept the ride short and had Michael ride with them. Laurence was a handsome little boy, a perfect mixture of Michael and Susanne with his dark hair and sharp blue eyes. Rebecca hadn’t ridden in months, but Laurence proved to be a serious companion and held tight to the saddle horn.
They came to the orangery which had been repaired for only a few weeks. Laurence proudly showed his aunt the few flowers and plants it contained.
“You’ll have to come and visit my house to see our rose bushes,” she told him. “Did you know that is where you were born?”
“Yes,” he said absent-mindedly playing with a flower.
“Would you like to come visit me again?”
“When?” he asked.
She smiled and looked at Michael. “I suppose that depends on your Mama and Papa.”
“When?” he asked Michael.
“Maybe at Christmas,” he answered and picked Laurence up. “After your sister is born.”
“And how do you know the baby will be a girl?” Rebecca asked.
“Because I already have a perfect son,” he said tickling Laurence.
The groom took the horses and the three walked back to the house where Susanne had lunch waiting.
***************************
Evening was a challenge for Michael. His work managing the estate kept him focused during the day, but at night he became edgy with the excitement that used to accompany a night out. But Wickingham closed up early and it would not do for the Earl to be frequenting the pub while his wife slept. Davis had made sure Michael was fully aware that the success of Elysian Fields depended somewhat on Michael’s behavior being without reproach. What he could hide in London could not be hidden here.
In spite of the activity of his day, he still had trouble sleeping. Susanne retired to bed soon after Laurence was settled, but Michael remained in the library sometimes with paper and pen, desperate to write, but mostly with a drink, just feeling desperate.
Rebecca was used to late nights and had the same trouble unwinding. Her first night alone at Elysian Fields, Michael challenged her to a game of chess.
“I haven’t played in so long,” she said as Michael set up the pieces. “Tristan taught me years ago and Davis and I play some when we are at St. Clare’s. But not for a long time,” she added, sipping her claret.
Michael easily won. “You just need more practice,” he assured her.
Rebecca gave him a wry smile. “I suppose that I will have plenty of time to practice while I’m here. There doesn’t seem much else to do.” She quickly realized how rude she sounded and apologized, adding, “I’m still adjusting to the quiet. It is lovely here, though.”
“I understand, Rebecca; you don’t need to apologize. The quiet sometimes drives me mad as well,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be any different at St. Clare’s except that I would be alone with nothing to do.”
“The estate doesn’t keep you busy?”
“Montague can run the estate without me. He could run the estate without Davis for that matter.”
“You don’t give yourself and Davis enough credit. I know personally how much is involved in managing an estate.”
“Yes, I suppose you do,” she agreed.
“Another game?” he offered. “Or shall we talk.”
“About what?”
“Whatever you would like,” he said and set the board up again.
“We could discuss the trouble in the colonies. That seems to be Davis’ favorite topic. There is also Captain Cook’s latest expedition. You did hear that Tristan tried to get hired on?”
“Susanne may have mentioned that.”
“He won’t be going on the ship, after all, but he may go to Ireland. He believes that with his apprenticeship he might be able to set up a little practice there.” She mused to herself for a moment then moved a piece. “You have a brother in Ireland, don’t you?” she asked.
“I do,” he answered offering nothing more.
She looked up from the board trying to read from his expression whether he was absorbed in the game or didn’t wish to speak of his brother. He was staring at the board intently, but his careless move indicated that he wasn’t fully engaged in the game. “Did I touch on a sore subject?” she asked gently.
He looked at her and his face relaxed. “Not a sore subject; just one I don’t have a lot of knowledge about.”
“You don’t know your brother?” she said in surprise, then
caught herself at the insensitivity of her exclamation. “I’m sorry, Michael; I didn’t know. Davis never told me.”
“It’s fine, Rebecca. I never knew him or his mother so it’s not as though I’ve lost anything.”
“Still…I suppose our families aren’t necessarily our blood kin.”
“Sometimes our kin can be more hurtful than complete strangers.”
“Yes they can,” she agreed. Suddenly a wave of fatigue came over her, maybe brought on by the claret or just the long day. But it was so obvious that she couldn’t hide it.
“Why don’t we finish another time,” Michael suggested.
Rebecca was grateful. He took her hand and kissed it, wishing her a goodnight.
*************************
Rebecca settled into a routine. She arose and ate breakfast in her room, then wrote Davis. After she was dressed, she set her letters in the hall for the daily posting. She did not expect a letter from Davis immediately, but after more than a week, she complained when the mail arrived and there was still no letter.
Susanne was uncharacteristically short, tired from the pressure of the baby constantly preventing her from finding a comfortable seating position. “He is probably very busy, Rebecca. Honestly, I don’t understand what more you can expect of him. You want for nothing, he’s generous with his money—I wonder if you are just being unreasonable.”
“Susanne!” Michael exclaimed when he saw the look of shock on Rebecca’s face.
“No, Michael. Davis gives her everything. She never has to worry about a budget. If it means that he has to work to make sure that she can be the best-dressed woman at the finest balls, how can she expect him to have time to write her?”
“I can’t believe you are saying these things, Susanne,” Michael said, but Rebecca interrupted him.
“No, Michael, Susanne is right. Davis is very busy.” Her face was flushed and her voice trembled. “I need some air,” she said and left the room.
“Susanne, what has come over you? You know how sensitive things are between them,” he chastised.
Laura Carroll Butler Page 19