“You call him generous to give me back what is rightfully mine and dare attach conditions to his doing so? What conditions? Oh, I am afraid, Mr. Jarvis, that I have other words that fit better than ‘generous’!” Alexa leaned forward with her eyes flashing and her teeth clenched together in a manner that reminded Mr. Jarvis uncomfortably of a wildcat ready to pounce, as she repeated between her teeth, “What conditions?”
He said hastily: “Only two, my dear Lady Alexa, only two. The first is that you do not give away any money or property hereafter, such as was the case with Lord Deering, you remember. And the second is that if you—hem—happen to take a lover, well then—control of the money, of everything, goes back to your lawful husband. Although of course in the case of his death he has taken the precaution to make provision that it will then revert to you again without any conditions at all. And if you will consider everything in the light of reason you will realize for yourself that...”
Unable to bear any more, Alexa erupted onto her feet again as she exclaimed in a voice shaking with infuriation: “Oh, but I have already realized quite clearly what he is about, I assure you. He doesn’t want me, but nobody else can have me either, isn’t that it? Why, the bastard! The vile, conniving... No, I won’t offend your ears again by swearing, Mr. Jarvis, but if Lord Embry thinks to keep me tame and as celibate as he says he is, why then...” Alexa gave vent to a burst of wild, almost hysterical laughter that made Mr. Jarvis blanch before she said in a softer tone of voice that seemed even more menacing for that very reason: “Then he will have to follow me everywhere I go, Mr. Jarvis, to make sure of me. And I’ll make it as difficult as I can for him to do so, and I will take as many lovers as I please all the same. If he catches me in flagrante delicto—you see, I remember my Latin—then I lose my money; but I shall make myself rich again by my own efforts. I wonder how my husband Viscount Embry will like the idea that his wife has become a whore? Oh yes, Mr. Jarvis, I assure you that I would make a very good harlot if I put my mind to it. Perhaps my aunt will help me to get started? Or...”
“For God’s sake!” the usually imperturbable Mr. Jarvis was shocked into saying. “I implore you to be careful of saying such things, even if you don’t mean them. If you will only take the time to reflect quietly and soberly... I was too blunt perhaps and might have seemed lacking in understanding for your plight, but you must understand that I was only stating facts and reminding you of what the law is. If there is anything I could do...”
“There is nothing that you can do, Mr. Jarvis, and I appreciate both your uncomfortable position and your frank relation of certain facts,” Alexa said quietly as she began drawing on her gloves. “But all the same I intend to do exactly as I just stated if he drives me to it; and that is a fact too. Thank you for your time, and please remember to give my regards to Lady Margery. You might tell her that I am planning to go off to Spain in search of the warm sun with my grandmother as my chaperone. The thought of a cold English winter and an even colder bed holds no appeal for me! Good afternoon, Mr. Jarvis.”
It seemed as if all her rage and all the hurt it covered had suddenly turned into one cold, solid mass that occupied all the space inside her, so that in the strangest way she could almost understand what Nicholas had tried to explain to her last night even though she could not forgive him for what he had done to her. Cajoled her, coaxed her, pursued her and wooed her; taught her what passion meant and what ecstasy was—made her want him and long for everything he could make her feel, even if it was against her will. And then, he had rejected her. Not for revenge, not out of hate. She could have understood those strong emotions and accepted them with better grace than she could deal with his indifference. Hamlet—she had always despised his eternal vacillation even if she enjoyed his soliloquies. “Get thee to a nunnery...go!” How casually he had dismissed poor Ophelia, whom he had once courted ardently; and how easy her husband had found it to force her into a nunlike existence, or so he must have thought. Let him continue to think so while he lived his detached existence inside himself that was centered around himself, until such time as she chose to let him discover what she was up to.
In her present mood, Alexa found that she no longer cared who might see her or what they might say when she sent her own carriage back home and took a hansom cab to visit her Aunt Solange.
If Madame Olivier did not profess herself overjoyed to see her wayward niece again, she did not reprove her for arriving without warning either, her only comment at first being: “Well! I had hardly expected to see you here again after getting yourself remarried—with Newbury giving you away and the old witch herself in attendance, so I’m told. You deserve to be congratulated for managing such a coup.”
Later, after they had each had a second glass of the excellent champagne she always kept on hand for her best customers, Solange said brusquely: “Well, hadn’t you better come out with it? You didn’t expect to pull any wool over my eyes with your light and airy chatter, I should hope.” But when Alexa told her what she planned to do if she was forced to it her aunt burst into rich, genuine laughter. “Ma pauvre petite! Where is your head? Pah, if you worked for me I can guarantee you wouldn’t last long. I told you before that you’d never make a good whore because you’re not detached enough. And for all you think you’ve learned, my girl, you know nothing at all of the reality of doing it yourself with a different man every hour, which is a lot different from talking about how to do it or watching other people do it, as you’d find out at once. Listen, and I’ll give you some free advice for the last time. Why don’t you face up to the truth you’re trying to hide from yourself? You’re a fool, that’s evident, and you’re in love with the bastard you’re married to—like the idea or not. Merde! If that’s the way it is why don’t you stop acting like a spoiled little child throwing a tantrum to get attention and go after what you really want instead? That’s what I would do.”
No! Alexa told herself rebelliously when she was on her way back home. No, no, no! She felt like screaming it out loud. How could her Aunt Solange, who had never known her until a few months ago, pretend to understand her well enough to divine her deepest emotions? She was not in love with Nicholas Dameron; she never had been. All she had felt for him was something she had already admitted— want. Physical desire. An animal craving that had affected her body, perhaps, but never her mind. All the same, by the time Mr. Bowles had opened the door for her with a reproachful look, Alexa’s mood had become more thoughtful than defiant, although she had not changed her mind, she told herself. Not about anything.
“His Lordship came back and left less than a half hour ago, my lady. He asked me to remind you that you had asked a Miss Howard from Ceylon to dinner tonight and desired that you offer his apologies for his absence since he had a previous engagement to dine at his club. Also, Cook wishes to know...”
“Thank you, Bowles. You may send Cook upstairs to me in fifteen minutes. And please be sure to send a carriage for Miss Howard at seven precisely. I will give you her direction before then.”
There was no point in dissolving into tears or throwing temper tantrums that would do her no good. He had decisively set the pattern of their relationship and had made it clear what it was to be. And as Harriet reminded her later, now that she was a married woman she must be prepared to entertain and make calls and keep herself busy running her household and fulfilling social obligations. There was also charity work....
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Aunt Harry! What you are advising me to do, in other words, is to keep myself busily immersed in complete dullness, until I myself become dull and stupefied and won’t care about anything any longer!”
“Well, my dear, you must admit that it beats moping about being discontented and vinegarish! And the reason I brought the subject up is because it’s quite obvious to me that something’s not right with you and with your marriage when a young and newly wed couple feel more comfortable with a chaperone about. Now, why else would you both positively beg me to come
down to the country with you when you’re still supposed to be on your honeymoon?”
Alexa had sipped her wine and given a lift of one bare shoulder at that, hoping that she had not given too much away earlier. “It’s because honeymoons... That kind of thing is so old-fashioned, after all. And my marriage to Embry is a matter of convenience for us both—a mariage de convenance in the modern style where we each have our own friends and pursue our own interests. Why, I plan to go very soon to Spain—perhaps to Portugal and the south of France as well— without Embry, of course. I think the Dowager Marchioness Adelina will accompany me as my chaperone. Do you not find that quite ironic and amusing?” She had managed a light, gay laugh at Harriet’s sourly foreboding expression and said coaxingly: “ Please, Aunt Harry. Why don’t you come along too? Then I shall have two chaperones, and we’ll have such a capital time, I’m sure. Adelina knows everyone of any consequence there, and we shall be staying at castles and private villas and...oh, you would love it, I’m sure. Besides, I do trust you and I don’t her—not one bit. We only use each other and my...and Newbury won’t let her go this year unless I do, so you see...”
“I see that you are sailing in very dangerous waters, my dear, and I can only hope that you’ll be very careful indeed. What does your husband think of this plan of yours?”
“Embry? Why, I haven’t told him yet, but he won’t care a fig anyhow—he’s always so busy with business and his own amusements. Please say you’ll come, Aunt Harry. And if I become too foolish you can advise me.”
“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Harriet said in the end when Alexa kept on begging her to come. But she didn’t like any of it. She was glad, however, that she had agreed to go down to the country with the girl, because she obviously needed some stable companionship. There was a brittle quality to the brilliance of her smile and the gaiety of her manner that hid nerves strung tight. Something was very, very wrong; but she could hardly ask bluntly what it was while they were still becoming reacquainted. Perhaps, after they had spent enough time together, Alexa might feel ready to confide in her and there might be something she could do to help. Harriet had not been able to shake off her feelings of guilt for what had happened and had almost happened that time in Ceylon; although as to what had led up to it all—she had always thought that what she had done was for the best.
Chapter 52
It was the routine. To the country for the shooting season and the hunt until winter had well and truly set in; and then soon after Christmas, plans were already being made for visits to Europe; traveling about to kill the time until the next London season began. It was like living by a clock—by a sundial.
Alexa and Harriet traveled down to the house in one of the carriages. In spite of the fine drizzle that was falling, Lord Embry had preferred to drive himself in the phaeton. It took three other carriages and a heavy, rather old-fashioned traveling coach to carry all of their baggage and those of the servants who were to accompany them to the country. Alexa had worn three flannel petticoats under the others she usually wore and her warmest fur-trimmed cashmere pelisse over a fine wool dress of warm golden brown trimmed with dark orange and flame. Autumn colors, her dressmaker had told her. Even Harriet had complimented her on her looks and the color in her face, little suspecting that it was not natural but due to artificial aids.
“I’m afraid I’ll never get used to this English weather again,” Harriet commented, shivering a little as they started out. “My dear, I think it must be back to Ceylon for me, after all. Martin’s being more than generous, and I can afford to take a small house in Colombo or in Kandy, I think. It’s the damp here that is so hard on old joints and old bones.”
“Then you should come with me next month to Spain. At least you can go with us there first, can’t you? You’ll miss the worst of the Bay of Biscay that way; and I believe there are always ships on their way to Ceylon and India that stop in at Lisbon and Cadiz for cargo and passengers. At least, do think about it, won’t you? I don’t intend to be buried away in the country for more than a week or ten days at the very most and expect to be warm and enjoying myself thoroughly again before the end of November.”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” Harriet said in a rather noncommittal voice as she drew her fleece-lined lap robe more closely about her. “But, my dear, I don’t know if I am up to life in high circles and the constant running around you’re bound to be doing. And my wardrobe will hardly pass muster as you well know, so either way I’d feel like a fish out of water.”
“But if I took a small villa of my own, so that we could just lie and bake in the sun and explore—at least for a while?”
“Well, we’ll see! But perhaps Embry might decide to accompany you? After all, modern marriage or not, every man desires an heir to inherit his name and his title, if he has one. Surely...”
“Since you are going to live in the same house with us, Aunt Harriet, I suppose it’s best that I explain something to you before you find out for yourself—or from the servants.” Harriet had never heard such a cold bitterness in Alexa’s voice before as she continued with only the curling and uncurling of her fingers over the handle of her reticule betraying emotion: “My husband does not visit my room nor my bed and in fact chooses to avoid me as much as possible. I do not think he cares if he has an heir or not, as long as it’s not by me. And he does not care where I go or how I amuse myself as long as I...well, that is not too important. The point is that he is completely indifferent to me. You will see it for yourself, I’m sure.”
What Harriet did see during the next few days was that Alexa was desperately unhappy, for all of her pretended insouciance and surface gaiety and lightheartedness. She hardly saw Lord Embry at all except at dinnertime, for he usually went out riding for most of the day or else stayed closeted in his study or his bedroom. This was a strange marriage indeed, and Harriet wondered how it had come about in the first place.
The sun had not shown itself for three days now, and although there had been invitations to dinners and musical evenings or whist at the houses of some of the local gentry, Alexa had pleaded tiredness and the nuisance of having to supervise the unpacking of their baggage as her excuse for not going out. She spent the dreary sunless days in the house or in her own rooms, where she could pace until she felt tired enough to be able to sleep; and she played chess with Harriet and wrote letters and poured tea. And saw him across the dinner table from her, met him sometimes on the stairs where they exchanged polite greetings, or saw him from her window as he left on his rides mounted on a big black stallion with a white star on its forehead that she would have loved to ride—and saw him come back soaked to the skin; knowing by now that he would stay to dry himself off in the stables while he talked to the grooms and the stablehands and they drank brandy together. She knew that because Bridget had reported it to her. Mr. Bowles, Bridget said, did not think it was proper for his Lordship to hobnob with his servants!
This afternoon Alexa did not turn away from the window as she usually did but remained staring outside as the light gradually changed from one shade of grey to another until it was dark, with the orange lantern-glow blooming from the windows of the stables and the head groom’s quarters above it; and she found herself wondering what they talked about and why he seemed to enjoy the company of those rough, simple men enough to spend so much time with them. What am I to do? she thought, watching the water run down from the eaves in long streams that reminded her of the heavy monsoon rains in Ceylon. I have everything I once thought I wanted, and nothing I want now.
“My dear, you really cannot go on making excuses to all your neighbors forever,” Harriet reminded her as they sat in the smaller drawing room waiting for dinner to be announced. “Even if you do plan to go away soon you should perhaps make their acquaintance at least; so that next year...”
Surrender to Love Page 60