To Alexa’s secret relief she was the only dinner guest that night. She had been hoping that there would not be too many other neighbors there, or any young officers; but this was even better than she had anticipated and she soon felt quite at ease and relaxed with Letty Dearborn and the Senhor da Rocha.
“Do you like curry? I’ve developed quite an addiction to it, I’m afraid, and the hotter the better! But there’s chicken stew with boiled vegetables too, just in case.” The way her hostess screwed her face up at the mention of chicken stew made Alexa burst out laughing.
“After three glasses of sherry and now wine into the bargain, I do not think it matters in the least what I have to eat, as long as it is not chicken stew and boiled vegetables.”
“Ah! You see, Paul? A female after my own black heart. Didn’t I tell you so? She’s not a bit like those namby-pamby creatures who are all false smiles and ugly whispers—are you, my dear? And now they have it that poor Paul is a result of one of my late husband’s indiscretions. Little do they know! I was a dutiful wife while he was still alive, because I didn’t know any better at the time, I suppose. But Samuel was much older than I was, and the poor dear could not... Well, never mind. Never speak ill, as the saying goes. Kept his Eurasian mistress hidden away somewhere because all his friends were doing the same, but couldn’t beget children! Anyhow, I remember saying to Paul—didn’t I, love?—wait until you meet Alexa Howard. She’s different, independent. Got a mind of her own too. Hope they don’t have time to get their knives into her in Colombo, though. I’ve managed to develop a hide as thick as an elephant’s by now, of course, but, well, I’m glad you didn’t let them change you, my dear. I like you, you know.”
As the meal progressed Letty Dearborn’s lack of formality and her direct manner of speech made it easy for Alexa to talk quite freely and honestly herself, not only to Letty but to Paul as well.
They had soon progressed to first names. “Miss this, Mister that; always thought it was ridiculous among people who feel comfortable enough with each other to become friends. You don’t mind, do you?”
She did not mind in the least, Alexa thought, enjoying being able to sit together with both her new friends after dinner instead of retiring while Paul indulged in a cigar and port by himself. In fact, Letty actually lighted up a cigar for herself after she had ordered cognac for all of them.
“Another silly custom!” she’d said. “Like not being able to smoke if you’re a female. But don’t you try a cigar if you’re not used to it, my dear. Make you very sick indeed!”
They sat around the table talking for what seemed like hours, while Alexa took small, careful sips of her cognac and the cigar smoke swirled under the punkah fan. Paul spoke of his life in Brazil and the influence of Portugal there, and Letty related some of her experiences when she had first begun to manage her husband’s estate on her own. “You’ll probably face the same thing some day, love. Women hate you and the single men without prospects want to marry you; at least until you get as long in the tooth as I am now. And the married ones want to bed you, thinking you ought to be grateful. Glad you’re not shocked by my bluntness but I thought you should be warned, at least. Of course, I keep forgetting, don’t I, that you’re still single, and can pick and choose, eh? Still young too. Plenty of time ahead of you yet, and you’ll have all the choices in the world. Don’t even have to stay here because there’s no other place to go and England’s too damn cold. You could probably live anywhere in the world you decide to live, if... Think you’ll marry Sir John in the end? No. I apologize for that! Prying...detest prying. But I always tend to talk too much when I’ve had more than enough to drink, as Paul will tell you.”
“Oh, but of course I don’t mind anything you say...” Alexa began, but Letty had risen abruptly to her feet, coming over to lean down and give her a perfumed hug.
“I know you don’t, love, or I wouldn’t have apologized, you know. Never apologized to any of them for anything! But I do know when I’ve had enough and should go upstairs to sleep it off. Doesn’t mean you two young people have to waste the rest of the evening though, does it? Have Paul take you for a stroll in the new rose garden while the moon’s still up. Think it was full last night, wasn’t it, Paul? Well, good night, my dears.”
After Letty had kissed them both and departed with a casual wave of her ring-bedecked fingers, Alexa found herself rather confused and uncertain of what she should do next until she heard Paul say quietly, “Would you care to stroll outside for a while, or would it make you feel uncomfortable to be alone with me?”
“I...” Alexa met his gravely searching eyes and suddenly gave a shrug and a small smile as she extended her hand. “But why should I feel in the least uncomfortable being alone with you now that we have become friends? And I do not even care if there is a moon tonight.”
That last defiant comment had burst from her spontaneously, and soon afterwards Alexa could have bitten her tongue for saying something so pointless. She was relieved when Paul, instead of questioning her, merely helped her to her feet, offering her his arm before saying with a humorous quirk of his lips, “I am glad you trust me, because I am afraid your duenna has fallen sound asleep.” »
Her poor ayah, who had been sitting on her mat in one corner of the large dining room all evening, had fallen asleep quite early, as Alexa had not failed to notice with relief. And now she said with her dimple showing, “Oh, it would be quite cruel of us to wake her, don’t you think?” Poor Elisa was growing old, and once she had closed her eyes almost nothing could wake her until dawn, as Alexa knew very well and her aunt did not. And she meant to make the most of this one lighthearted night of feeling free, a free spirit among kindred free spirits.
Outdoors lay a different world from the orange lamplit dining room. An enchanted fairy world of silver light sliced through with black shadow; and damp earth smells mingling with the heady scents that drifted from flower beds, and thick vines that clung to bowers and hung from trees. And perhaps, Alexa found herself thinking almost defiantly, she needed to be walking outdoors with a man whom she could trust not to take advantage of her ignorance and her untried emotions. Perhaps she needed to prove at least to herself that she had changed and become stronger—no longer a weak, helpless creature who allowed her intellect to be ruled by her senses and the cloying, insidious lure of a moon-bathed tropical night.
As if he had sensed some of her secret thoughts and reservations, Paul da Rocha continued to talk easily as they strolled along the crazy-paved path that led to a small summerhouse in the center of the sunken rose garden. He spoke of his childhood and his parents and his sisters who had all been married off by the time they were fifteen years old. “And by now—Luisa is only twenty—they are all three like old women, even to look at. Sharp-tongued and nagging, with nothing to converse about except children and servants and other domestic matters. I felt desperately sorry for them at first; sold off like cattle to men they had barely met and did not know. I can still remember how Luisa, who was closest to me in age, cried bitterly all night before her wedding day. She thought she loved a friend of mine she had once exchanged glances with. But within a day or two afterwards, how she preened as she showed off her wedding gifts—her large new house with so many servants to do her bidding, her jewels and new finery.”
“Oh!” Alexa cried, puzzled as well as revolted. “But I never could... Only, I suppose that your poor sisters had no choice in the matter and so there was nothing to do but make the best of things. They could not be really happy, could they? Sometimes even I hate being a female and being so limited in every way. You should count yourself lucky that you were born a male, you know!”
“Ah, but you can have no idea what our Portuguese-Brazilian families are like. Marriages, even for sons, are arranged very early, almost from the cradle, in fact. And being the third son of my father, my only prospects lay in marrying a girl with an extremely large dowry. Only—my future bride was as fat and ugly as she was rich, you see, an
d she had been chosen for me by my father when I was not yet fourteen years old!” Paul gave a short laugh as he shrugged his shoulders, looking down at Alexa with a half bitter, half-humorous twist to his mouth before he continued more lightly: “So to make a boring story short, I decided to use my father’s generous allowance to make my escape before there was any talk of our formal engagement being announced. I decided, in fact, to seek both adventure and my fortune at the same time by embarking on a ship bound for Australia.”
“But...”
“Ah, the reason I ended up here is nothing to be proud of, I’m afraid. I was bored on that ship and took to gambling to while away the time, losing a good portion of my passage money; and the deposit I had put down was only sufficient to bring me as far as Ceylon. Fortunately for me I had the luck to meet with some kind souls who advised me that since I had some knowledge of coffee planting I should have no difficulty in obtaining employment here if I looked in the Gazette. And as you see, I was lucky again, for Letty happened to be visiting Colombo at that time, and here I am! Fortunate once more in that I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance as well.”
“Letty is indeed a very wonderful and exceptional woman,” Alexa said rather too quickly. “I shall always love her for her kindness and understanding. But does she know that you are on your way to Australia and do not mean to stay here?”
“She’s not the kind of woman one might feel inclined to keep things from, is she? I have always been honest with her, and she with me. I have promised her that I will see her through until the end of the season, at least, and she pays me very well indeed. You are right; she is a most exceptional woman, and I feel enriched by having had the privilege of knowing her. But tell me...” He had stopped suddenly and the abruptness of his question took Alexa by surprise. “Are you in fact planning to be married soon?”
“I...” Striving for honesty to match his, Alexa found herself almost stammering at first. “I do not really know yet. I know I mentioned something about it over dinner, and...but you see, what makes it so difficult to conceive of is that I have always called him ‘Uncle’ John, and everyone knows that. And then there is Papa, who needs me so desperately now, and Aunt Harriet, and the estate, and—Uncle John only offered to marry me because he wanted to protect me from gossips like that nasty Mrs. Langford, of course! He said it would be a...a marriage in name only and that he had already decided that I was to be his heiress in any case. But he’s so ill, although he doesn’t show it, and the doctors have told him he’s dying. And... Oh, you don’t know how good and kind he’s always been to me, ever since I can recall! If he might need someone to be with him and look after him, if I would be helping him by doing something for him... Oh, I really don’t know what I should do!”
“So you are torn between duty and destiny, are you, Alexa? And after all, who can tell which choice is which? You will have to make your own decisions in the end, you know. It is very much like the toss of the dice, I’m afraid. But once a decision is made, then it will become easier, I think. Knowing that right or wrong, the choice you have made is of your own free will.”
Long after Paul had taken her back to her room, kissing her hand at the door before he left her, Alexa found herself lying awake with her thoughts turning cartwheels in her head. How much they had talked about, she and Paul. And how frankly. Two hours or more must have passed until she had mentioned almost timidly that perhaps Letty...
“Part of Letty’s beauty is that she understands everything and condemns nothing. Yes, we are lovers, Letty and I, but only on those occasions when we are both of the same inclination. And it is not as incongruous as some may think, for Letty is a beautiful woman, and a giving one as well. A combination of mother and friend and courtesan all in one, although I do not think that you can completely understand yet what I am saying. I can see that you are not quite ready yet to be able to give with joy instead of guilt; with laughter in the midst of loving. Ah, I am sorry, Alexa. Sometimes I tend to say far too much!”
But what had Paul meant to explain to her? She had longed to ask him, but a sudden fear that he would think her silly and naive if she did had held her back; and he had casually steered their conversation to other, safer topics as he guided her back to the house—holding her arm. Not once had he attempted to make love to her, although she knew somehow, without knowing how she knew, that he would have liked to have done so. Why, he had already made sure that she knew that Letty wouldn’t have minded, because she was not jealous or possessive and would never even dream of asking questions. But then he had told her that she wasn’t ready yet. How different Paul was from...
Nicholas. The Spanish cousin. She had actually managed to forget what his last name had been, although she remembered too many other things about him. His manner of walking—the deep-forest greenness of his eyes against sun browned skin and his smile that wasn’t really a smile at all. The unfamiliar, lazy drawl of his speech and the dark thickness of his hair. Even the very feel of his skin and the way his muscles moved under it. And most of all— oh, worst of all—she remembered what she wanted most to shut out of her mind forever. The way he had kissed her everywhere and touched her everywhere in such a diabolical manner that she had lost both reason and will.
Dear God— why did she continue to remember everything so vividly? Stirring restlessly in bed Alexa pulled the thin cotton sheet over her head to shut out the silvered moon-streaks that had crept in through a half-closed window to lie against the polished floor. It had been the moonlight... Paul... the turn of their conversation.... But then why, even if she did succeed in not thinking about him, did she have those certain dreams to haunt her on some nights?
I hate him. Oh, I despise him, her mind repeated like a familiar litany until she heard herself sigh in the darkness and thought at last, Yes, I hate him—but I want him too, at the same time; want everything he made me feel and crave and...oh, most of all I want to be the one to turn and walk away without a backward glance! She welcomed the gathering of anger that warded off other thoughts as she told herself fiercely, Some day perhaps I will have my chance! Some day when I have learned enough...when I am ready...
Chapter 18
“I must say I’m quite relieved to see you back early. Your papa was rather upset when he discovered I’d let you go alone. Perhaps you might make some small extra effort to please him tonight? You know he has grown to depend on seeing us both at the table when he comes down.”
“Yes, I know,” Alexa said evenly as Muttu helped her dismount. “Should I go up and see him now, do you think?”
“As you ought to be aware, he’s usually asleep at this time,” Harriet said acerbically. “And for his sake we really should try to keep to a familiar routine during the next few months. You have not made any more dinner engagements, I hope?”
She had never realized before how domineering Aunt Harriet could be at times. But then she had never been away from her aunt’s influence for long enough to think about what she had always taken for granted. Aunt Harriet had always been there as a part of her life, Alexa thought later when she had gone up to her room to change. Like Mama’s fluttering sweetness and the sound of a piano somewhere in the background. Was it only because Mama and Freddy were no longer with them that everything seemed so drastically changed, or had the greatest change really happened within herself? Suddenly she had become irritable and even critical of things she had always accepted before; and now, with a feeling of being hemmed in somehow she understood that the freedom Aunt Harriet had talked to her about and that she’d thought for a while she really had was not real freedom at all. Rather it meant the taking on of responsibilities that would eventually absorb more and more of her attention and her time until in the end it would be the business of the plantation that would be running her instead of the other way around.
I won’t be manipulated into feeling guilty if I’m away for just one evening! Alexa thought rebelliously while her drowsy-eyed ayah helped her change into one of her
old cotton gowns that had faded from brown into an indeterminate, rather muddy shade. I refuse to give up my options and turn into a sour, self-sacrificing martyr just to please Aunt Harriet.
“I’ll see you for tiffin,” Harriet had said in parting. "No doubt you’ll want to change and lie down in the meanwhile.” Arranging her hours for her, reminding her of the daily routine she was supposed to fall into. And now, after poor Ayah had gone off with her rolled-up sleeping mat to catch a nap in some corner, Alexa’s dark brows drew together in an unconscious frown while she considered the consequences of avoiding tiffin and Aunt Harriet’s inevitable questions as well. She would send word that she was not hungry...was too tired...had a headache. She did not even feel like sitting down to the daily accounts as she usually did after tiffin or like performing any of the other usual tasks, for that matter. Even if it was only to prove something to herself, she would do something different for a change. Something... Almost absentmindedly Alexa opened the lacquered jewelry box that had been one of her Christmas presents last year in search of her favorite garnet earrings as a change from the jet she was wearing and had begun to detest. And there, right on top, lay the small key she had tossed in there and forgotten about—the key to her mother’s battered tin trunk that held her girlhood memories and secret, youthful dreams—Victorine Howard’s only legacy to her daughter. Almost involuntarily, Alexa’s hand went out to it, picking it up. Now, while she was feeling strong, was perhaps the best time to go through it—to begin, at least, to sort everything out. Suddenly, filled with a strange, new feeling of separation from Harriet, she felt an impulsive need to understand Mama better and to know more about her.
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