Next year? And then the year after that and the year after that, with Europe to look forward to next, before London. Her lovers would be carefully chosen and discreetly met, and she would change them if she grew tired of them or if they showed signs of becoming too intense. No doubt her grandmother would advise her! And soon she would be armored against emotion or weakness and would not even feel the emptiness inside herself. .
“Alexa? My dear, are you dressed warmly enough? You shivered just now as if you’d felt a cold draught on you. You’re not sickening for something, are you?”
Alexa gave one of her new, brittle laughs. “Someone must have walked over my grave just then. Isn’t that what the superstitious say?”
That night over dinner Lord Embry said casually: “The weather is expected to clear by tomorrow, according to one old farmer I encountered today. Perhaps you ladies might want to take one of the carriages and make some calls? Our closest neighbors are the local squire and his wife, and Mrs. Eden is quite young and would be glad of company of someone her age, I’m sure. She’s also quite an excellent horsewoman, and has a friendly, vivacious personality.”
Since Alexa had just taken a taste of her game pie and could hardly answer him yet, Harriet said, “Then we should certainly make that the first of our calls, since Alexa too has always loved to ride and is quite a horsewoman herself—although I’m sure you know that already.”
“Did you ever watch me when I used to ride in the Row almost every day, Embry? Why, at first they could not decide if I was one of the pretty horsebreakers or not, and then everyone began taking wagers on who was the better rider, your friend ‘Skittles’ or I!”
For just an instant Alexa thought she saw some tiny spark of amusement in his eyes, and then he raised his napkin to his lips before saying indifferently: “Really? In that case, my dear, I must hope that you came off the winner. You’ll find, though, that riding in Rotten Row is very different from riding about in the countryside, especially if you don’t know your way about. And you should be sure that the hack you choose is not easily startled. Perhaps Mary Eden might be able to give you some advice and show you which paths and bridle trails are safest for riding.”
They’re dueling now, Harriet thought with a sense of foreboding. And after that cut she waited for Alexa’s temper to show. But surprisingly the explosion she dreaded did not come, and instead Alexa said with surprising calmness: “It is always wisest to know one’s way about in a strange place, of course, and even more pleasant to have such an obliging and knowledgeable neighbor as this Mrs. Mary Eden. But do tell me something about her husband to prepare me. Does he ride too?”
Her answer was delivered shortly. “Squire Eden used to be Master of the Hunt some years back, until he took a bad fall and injured his spine in some way. He’s confined to a chair or his bed now.”
“Oh, how very sad for him. And for his wife, of course, but at least she can still go riding, so I suppose she must count herself fortunate to have such an understanding husband who does not tie her to his side.”
Intervening quickly, Harriet put in, “But under the circumstances, do you think it might be too much of a strain or even an embarrassment for the poor gentleman to have to receive callers who are strangers to him?”
“They both enjoy company tremendously, I assure you, and your visit would be very welcome if you’d care to go?”
“I’ll send a letter over tomorrow to inquire when it would be convenient for the Edens to receive us, of course. Since we have not met before it would hardly be proper to show up unannounced, I’m sure, unless people in this part of the country are more informal. Or were you planning to escort us and perform introductions?”
“As a matter of fact, I visited Eden Manor earlier today to look at a thoroughbred yearling they’ve decided to sell,” Nicholas said deliberately. “So they are halfway expecting you—unless you’d prefer not to go, or feel you might be bored by people who prefer the country to London and are down to earth and quite simple, in their way, I suppose. No, the Edens are too natural and honest to stand on ceremony or insist upon formalities, I’m afraid, if that is what you expect. And more often than not they do not even bother to get dressed for dinner. They have three or four courses at the most, and Mary Eden enjoys cooking a meal herself sometimes. If you wish to seek their acquaintance you’ll find that what they appear to be is what they are and that they accept other people in the same way.” Suddenly, as if he had realized he’d said too much, he shrugged and added carelessly: “But you must do as you please, of course. I’ll say no more on the subject.”
Glancing at Alexa, Harriet thought she looked as if she’d been struck, her eyes like dark pools in her pale face until she shielded them by looking down at her plate to make a pretense of eating. When she looked up again she had composed her features into a mask that gave nothing away, like the sound of her voice as she said, “My goodness! All I asked you, after all, was whether you planned to go with us if we visit your friends tomorrow. I had no idea...”
“I beg your pardon.” By now he too was composed. “I should have mentioned it earlier, I suppose, but I have made plans to visit a horse fair at a small village close to Basingstoke with one of the grooms who was born there. I shall probably be away until some time tomorrow, or perhaps the day after if I do not find any horses worth buying and decide to go up to London for a day.”
“My dear,” Harriet said when the ladies had retired, “is that what is making you so unhappy? The thought that there might be another woman involved?”
If she let herself laugh as she almost felt tempted to, Alexa thought, then she would not be able to stop and would end up in hysterics, which would never do. “Another Woman”—the way poor Harriet had said it! Mary Eden, whose company he sought out instead of hers and whose praises he’d just sung? He’d cut himself off from all feeling, he’d told her, but had he omitted to tell her that he had only cut himself off from feeling anything for her? Why couldn’t she do the same thing?
“Alexa!” Harriet said sharply to hide her alarm when instead of answering her the young woman had merely stared at her with dilated, empty eyes, her hands going up to push against her temples in an almost mindless gesture.
“Now listen to me, my girl, I won’t allow you to fall to pieces, d’you hear? It’s not going to do you any good. Where’s that stubbornly resolute fighting spirit you used to possess? And have you forgotten how to use your mind and the intelligence God gave you! I don’t care if you don’t want to tell me what’s at the root of all this, but all I can say is that you’d be better off using your energy on some kind of positive action instead of wasting it on fluttering—like a silly little moth against a lampshade! What happened to your backbone, for heaven’s sake? You ought to have learned by now that the sooner you face facts and look them squarely in the eye instead of trying to run away from them, the better off you’ll be.” Leaning forward in her chair to transfix Alexa with her most quelling look, Harriet added, “And that is why I suggest that while your husband is off at his horse fair tomorrow, you and I should make a point of calling on the Edens; even if it’s only out of curiosity and nothing else.”
Idle curiosity. What else? It was only being cooped up indoors for three long, boring days that had unhinged her slightly, Alexa told herself later while Bridget was helping her undress for bed. She certainly wasn’t jealous of this Mary Eden, who was such a paragon of all the simple virtues, according to her husband—who was certainly more familiar with vices than virtues to judge from her experiences with him! Still, it would do no harm to go out of the house for a change and to find out for herself why he sought them out while he took pains to avoid her. Or was it only Mary Eden’s company that he sought?
Bridget had taken to country hours already and was trying to cover her yawns when Alexa dismissed her impatiently. Only ten o’clock—not quite that—and everyone was in bed. She found it impossible to fall asleep so early and usually read for a while; but tonight, upon
picking up the book on her night stand, Alexa was reminded that she had finished reading it last night and had forgotten to bring up another book from the library before she came upstairs. For some moments she hesitated, undecided; and then, not wanting to lie awake in her bed with only her thoughts for company, she snatched up the quilted satin robe that matched her peach-colored nightgown from the back of the chair where Bridget had left it and went resolutely downstairs, with a candlestick to light her way. One of Miss Austen’s novels would suit her mood tonight, if she could find one that she had not read yet. Or perhaps what she needed tonight was to read some philosopher who would put things in perspective for her before he put her to sleep.
There was still a lighted fire in the book-lined room to keep it warm—but surely the efficient Mr. Bowles should have made sure that the wood brought in was not wet? The room was full of smoke, and it was only after a few seconds that Alexa recognized that the particularly sweetish-acrid odor was familiar and felt herself freeze in the center of the room at about the same time his voice drawled, “For God’s sake, don’t drop it or you’re likely to start a fire! And what in hell are you doing down here so long past your bedtime?”
The unpleasant note in his voice stiffened her spine as Alexa turned around slowly to discover him sprawled negligently in one of the wing chairs that were placed on either side of the fireplace, long legs extended before him.
“I suppose I could ask you the same question, but since I’ve already guessed the answer I’ll let it pass. And if your Lordship has no objections I will try to find the book I was looking for as soon as possible and make haste to leave you to escape into your pipe dreams once more.” Almost blinded by a mixture of emotions she had no time to try and analyze, Alexa reached upwards and pulled out the first book her groping fingers discovered, and had already reached the door when she swung about to face the red glow of the pipe as he drew on it; and because her hands had begun to shake she first set down her candlestick on a table that stood there before she said in a voice that shook with the force of all that was inside her: “How dare you call others hypocrites and cowards when you are the worst of all? How glad I am that I came here tonight to realize for myself what you really are! This has become your reality, has it not? You find it easier to hide behind your puffs of smoke than to deal with feelings or emotions or anything that might pull you off your lofty perch of detachment from humanity, don’t you? Well then, stay hidden safely in your selfish little world of you and yourself with your dream pipe for a lover! And you need not go to all the trouble of trying to avoid me in the future, I assure you, my lord, because...because I intend taking pains to stay out of your way as much as possible! Good night to you—and enjoy your dreams!”
He could not know, of course, that once she was back in her bedroom she had thrown the book she carried against the wall as hard as she could before flinging herself across her bed to pound on her pillows in a paroxysm of sheer frustration before the tears came like a flood and brought her the release she needed, until worn out, she fell asleep still sobbing like a lost child. And once asleep, Alexa slept so soundly that she did not hear her door being opened or feel the gentle, almost tentative touch of fingers against her damp cheek; brushing back the unruly strands of hair that seemed to have become pasted against it.
Lying there with most of her face burrowed into her pillow and her arms wrapped around it as if for solace, she looked childish and vulnerable. His poor little tear drenched mermaid who should have stayed an innocent child of nature in her fairy kingdom. Had it really been he who had made the first breach in the walls and tempted her outside? Remembering the first time he had seen her weep without wanting to, Nicholas swore softly under his breath and pulled the covers over her curled-up body, half glad and half-sorry that he had found her sleeping so soundly. He had not meant to enter her room at all, nor even to pause outside her closed door instead of passing it without a glance as he usually did. But tonight it was as if her scathing little speech had pricked at him and irritated him just enough to let loose a demon of perversity that prompted him to try her door to find out if she had really meant everything she’d said. And then, when the handle had turned easily he had walked in without thinking or wondering why he did so. Probably just as well it had turned out this way. She seemed to have adapted herself very well to her new environment, which was probably what she had always wanted. The best thing he could do for her was probably to let things be as they were—and to let her be. When the door closed softly behind him, Alexa stirred slightly but did not wake, although for a little while she did dream.
Perhaps it was those half-remembered dreams and what they had evoked in her that made Alexa so silent and so pensive for most of the day. Dreams—or regrets, maybe. For what had been and for what was and for everything yearned for that could never be attained.
Harriet thought Alexa was coming down with a cold and suggested, regretfully, that they should not think of venturing out in that case. “I’m not getting a cold; it was just that I had some horribly depressing dream and woke up crying, although afterwards I could not even remember what it was about,” Alexa improvised glibly. She did not tell Harriet that she had burst into tears again a short time before when she had discovered that short of suffocating to death and in spite of all Bridget’s efforts her corset could not be laced up tightly enough to allow her to wear one of her favorite gowns. Nor did she mention to Harriet the frightening possibility that had suddenly entered her mind, especially after she had caught Bridget’s unhappy and commiserating look. What would be the point of burdening Harriet with yet another of her problems at this particular moment? It was something she should have thought of herself and would have to deal with herself, even though she longed to have someone she could confide in who would truly understand the predicament she suddenly found herself in—or even a strong shoulder to lean against and a pair of strong arms to hold her tightly without any words needing to be said.
It was sheer weakness to allow herself to indulge in such pointless fantasies, Alexa reminded herself sternly after a while, suggesting brightly to Harriet that they might just as well “take advantage of the break in the weather while they could and pay a call on Squire Eden and his wife Mary.
Chapter 53
“Well, my dear,” Harriet said later that night, “I certainly don’t think that you have anything to worry about in that direction. She’s a pretty enough woman with a passable figure, I’ll admit, but not the flighty type, by any means. And I don’t think her devotion to her husband is put on; nor his for her. I sensed that they’re very happy together. What did you think?”
“Mary Eden and I are going riding tomorrow if the rain holds off again,” Alexa said without answering directly. “I thought they seemed quite comfortable and contented in the world they’ve made for themselves, but it’ll be easier to tell for certain when she and I have had time alone, I think. Anyhow, I did find that I liked her; and she does know a great deal about horses, I must admit. Good night, Aunt Harry.” She went up to bed, leaving Harriet staring thoughtfully after her.
Once, when Alexa had been about ten years old, a genial visitor with a red face and fearsome mustache had taught her card tricks. Simple ones, of course. But the one that had taken the most concentration for her, because of her impatience, was trying to lean one card up against another very carefully until the whole deck of cards became a snake—and if you touched just the one card you’d begun with it was enough to make everything collapse and leave the snake no more than a tired skin. You could do it with dominoes too, she had learned much later; but she never forgot the cards and how easy it was to demolish the result of all that careful concentration with no more than the lightest flick of her little finger. And once it was started there was nothing you could do to stop it—nothing. Until the whole had collapsed and you sat staring at it dolefully, wondering if you had enough energy and concentration and patience to build it all up again—just to see the same thing happen all over aga
in. That was how the next day seemed in retrospect, although when she woke that morning and saw that it was not raining and there were breaks in the grey clouds that still hung overhead, Alexa felt quite lighthearted at the prospect of being able to ride again after what seemed an age.
“I don’t think we should stay out too long today,” Mary Eden said before they started out. “Guy made me promise I’d get back home before the rain, and you should too. It can be awfully treacherous in some spots when it’s so wet and you can’t see your way too well. So please forgive me if I cut our ride short, won’t you? I know we’re going to have a few more nice days soon before the winter really sets its teeth in.”
Alexa had had her heart set on riding the black stallion at least once, just to show him, but Mr. Grubb, the head groom, was old and crusty and quite adamant that Nero was not to be ridden by anyone save the master himself— and that was that. It did not help Alexa’s rising sense of frustration when Mary Eden murmured apologetically at her side: “I hate to seem as if I am taking sides, you know, but he is right. Nero can be dangerous and even vicious at times; and he’d be impossible to manage in weather like this, I promise you, even if you were the best horsewoman in the world. Please do take one of the other hacks instead. They’re all such beauties, and all spirited and a joy to ride.”
In the end Alexa picked a beautifully marked bay mare with more than a touch of Arab in her and was immediately informed by Mr. Grubb that she was not only descended from the famous thoroughbred “Eclipse” but tended to be frisky and a mite headstrong as well—like some women were. And if he had been asked his opinion he would have suggested one of the hunters who was a good jumper as well, knowing the countryside hereabouts as well as he happened to, having been brought up here from boyhood!
“Oh Mr. Grubb, I am quite sure Lady Embry knows exactly what kind of mount she wants, and of course she’s not going to try and jump her. In any case, I only mean to show Lady Embry the shortcut to the Manor so that she can visit us whenever she cares to.”
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