Alicia (17 page)

Alicia accompanied her to the door. Before Lady Gorham descended the stairs she turned and asked slyly, “Did Stronbert kill Tackar?”

Astonished, Alicia mumbled, “How could you possibly know they would duel?”

“How could they not?”

“Well, they did, but Tackar will live.”

“More’s the pity,”
Lady Gorham murmured angrily.

“How can you take it so lightly? Can you not see that Lord Stronbert might have been killed himself?”

The anguish in Alicia’s voice drew Lady Gorham’s sharp attention. “You are fond of Lord Stronbert?”

A blush stained Alicia’s cheeks. “Well, yes, of course I am. He has been very kind to Felicia and me,”
she hurried to say. “What position we have in Tetterton is due solely to him, you see.”

“Yes,”
Lady Gorham replied as she allowed the footman to assist her into the waiting carriage, “I believe I do see.”

Stronbert rode back to the Court preoccupied. As he had said, there was no one to ask him where he had spent the night, though he would not put it past his mother to do so. The prospect did not daunt him, however, for as much as he loved her he had no intention of allowing her to meddle in his life at his age. Nevertheless he entered the Court through a back door in an attempt to avoid the rest of the household. Before he could ascend to his room he was accosted by Miss Carnworth.

“Lady Gorham has not returned as yet,”
she informed him.

“She will be here presently.”

“They are all right, are they? Lady Coombs and her daughter?”
she asked anxiously.

“Quite all right,”
he informed her lazily, then, noting her very real concern, he added, “I have no doubt you shall see them tomorrow at dinner.”

“I am so glad,”
she responded, her face strangely puckered. “Thank you for helping them.”

Stronbert eyed her closely, wondering if she had any idea what had really happened. Then he said gently, “I shall always do what I can for them, Miss Susan. I think you know that.”

“Yes, yes. But they will not always accept your help. If that should ever be the case and you are at a stand, I hope you will allow me...that you will tell me so that I can do my possible,”
she said firmly.

Stronbert pressed her hand comfortingly. “You are very wise, Miss Susan. Be sure that I shall call on you when...and if...the time comes.”

Miss Carnworth nodded unsmiling and disappeared into the west wing. Stronbert realized that she felt a kinship with the two women in Tetterton, and was especially attached to Felicia. He continued to his room and found James there ready to assist him out of his depressingly dark outfit. After he had washed he sent James away, so that he might lie down for a while and sleep.

There was a light tap on the door which awoke him, but he did not respond. Then he heard his nephew’s voice through the heavy panels, “Uncle Nigel? Are you there?”

“Yes, come in.”

Rowland entered hesitantly, surprised to find his uncle stretched full-length on the bed in his drawers. “Would you rather I came another time?”

“No, sit down. I want to talk to you a moment.”

“Is Felicia all right? I heard she had a riding accident,”
Rowland asked gravely, not taking his uncle’s advice to seat himself.

“She is fine now. But she did not have a riding accident.”

Rowland looked at him inquiringly. His uncle had donned a dressing gown and seated himself on the edge of the bed. He obeyed this time when his uncle waved him to a chair. “What happened to her?”

Stronbert considered how he might best put the matter and found no easy solution. “What I tell you now is for your ears alone. Not for your sister or anyone else. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I tell you only because I think you need to know so that you will not distress the girl in all ignorance. I do not want her to know that I have told you. If you feel you cannot manage that, I shall not tell you.”

“I can manage,”
Rowland responded hotly.

Stronbert said only, “I hope you can. I shall depend on you to do so. Felicia was abducted yesterday.”
Rowland’s face paled and his annoyance of a moment before dissipated. “By whom? What happened?”

“I shall not tell you by whom. I do not think you need to know. Suffice it that I have handled the matter.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, he will live. Now listen carefully, Rowland. Felicia was not harmed. That is to say, she remains a virgin. However, she was handled grossly and knew the fear of being raped. It is no small fear with a woman. I do not think a man can ever have such a similar fear. It is more than being insulted, more than being assaulted, though it is both of them. There is a shame and a helplessness involved which may not perhaps be duplicated in any other action between human beings. You have, no doubt, a concept of how you would feel if something of the nature happened to Dorothy. But you can never know just how shattering such an experience is, nor can I.”
He frowned sadly as he remembered the anguished cries Felicia had uttered when he had held her.

“But she was not raped?”
Rowland asked timidly.

“No, I found her before anything happened. But the fear will be there for a long time. It will not be easy to overcome. She will not feel the same toward men for some time. Even the most casual touch might upset her—being lifted onto her horse, dancing, placing her hand on your arm.”
He was not altogether thinking of Felicia, of course, but the same could apply to either of the women. “I do not say that these things are necessarily true. She is a young woman and may be flexible enough to shrug the whole incident away. I doubt it, though.”

“What do you suggest I do?”
Rowland asked, his voice shaking.

“Be gentle with her. Do not let her know that you are aware of the incident, for she would then be embarrassed with you.
Ask
her each time if you can help her onto her horse or if she would like to take your arm. Do not take some of those things for granted any longer. And give her time, as much time as she needs.”

Rowland sat very still for a long while. “I am extremely fond of her.”

“Yes, I thought so. But she is only sixteen and has seen nothing of the world.”

“You mean nothing of other men,”
Rowland surmised sadly.

“In part. Where the proper degree of attachment exists it will last,”
Stronbert said gently. “I am your uncle, Rowland, and not your father, so I may be out of line in what I am about to say, but I feel the circumstance warrants it.”

He observed his nephew give an encouraging sign. “Some men treat a woman’s body as their right when they marry—and even when they do not. There is never any excuse for such an attitude. Our society is premised on a family, land handed down from father to son. Sometimes men, out of passion or out of an excess of determination to beget heirs, treat their wives as objects for this purpose alone. And they treat them roughly. A woman’s body is to be respected, no less sacred to you than your own body. It is a fragile thing, more so than your own, and yet it can bear children which yours never can. Because of the constant chaperonage and the lack of discussion, women often come to marriage with little concept of the way their bodies will be used.”
Stronbert stopped as his nephew flushed. “Would you rather I did not discuss this?”
he asked calmly.

“No, sir. That is, I pray you will continue.”

“Many women are sold into marriage to all intents and purposes and their husbands treat them as any other item they might buy. They use them for their own pleasure with the end sometimes, sometimes not, of begetting heirs. It would be cheaper and more humane to go to a prostitute who understands what is expected of her, and who is often well paid for the service she provides. On the other hand, even men who are sincerely attached to their wives often treat them roughly, simply out of lack of knowledge. If one day you should marry Felicia you would no doubt find her timid of your advances because of the experience she has gone through. She will require patience and love and gentleness even more than another woman might. But every woman does, Rowland, and it is your responsibility as a man to learn to give those things, or you should not marry. You should learn how to treat a woman’s body so that you give and not only take pleasure. Many women do not even know that their bodies can experience pleasure,”
he said somewhat sadly, “and they are ashamed of themselves for feeling it if they do. Poppycock! A woman
can
receive pleasure and should not deny it to herself. But you will have to teach her that because she is not like to learn it elsewhere. That’s all I have to say. Do you have any questions?”

Rowland contemplated his uncle wonderingly. “Yes,”
he said. “Just how am I to learn all that?”

Stronbert let out a roar of laughter. “A good question, Rowland. There is no simple way of gaining the experience, for you cannot come by some woman who will allow you to practice on her. Forgive me, I should not laugh about it. Have you never had a woman? No, I have no right to ask you such a question. Ignore it.”

But Rowland had no intention of ignoring the question. “I have, you know, in London. Twice. Jimmy Drew introduced me to them.”

Stronbert admirably controlled the smile he felt surfacing and said, “And did they teach you anything?”

“Teach
me?”
Rowland asked incredulously.

“I can see that they did not. You had best choose more carefully in future.”

“Well,”
Rowland protested, “they were not expensive and they were willing.”

“That is not enough. With an inexperienced man a woman of experience has a lot to offer. She can teach you how to be gentle and how to give her pleasure. And when you give her pleasure,”
he said, with a smile which mocked himself, “you will be repaid in kind, I assure you. I could have Colette recommend someone for you. It would not be inexpensive, but if your allowance did not run to it, I would see you had sufficient funds.”

“I am sure I can manage,”
Rowland said stiffly.

Stronbert stood abruptly and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “It is not only you I am thinking of, Rowland. It could be important for your Felicia. I did not mean to insult you. Perhaps you would rather we dropped the whole idea.”

“No,”
Rowland said slowly, imitating his uncle’s usual method of speech, “the idea intrigues me.”

Stronbert laughed. “Run along, rascal. I shall see what I can arrange.”

* * * *

The celebration for Lord Stronbert’s servants and tenants began early in the afternoon with bowling on the green, quoits, and a cricket match in which Stronbert participated. The general organized the various activities; he had assumed this task when he arrived at the Court seven years previously and guarded his domain with jealous vigor.

Agatha Trimble in turn had assumed the responsibility for the feast when she arrived two years after the general, and the two activities were kept entirely separate. A meal was served at four o’clock which consisted of thirty-one pigeon pies, twenty-four sirloins of beef, six collars of beef sliced, ten cold hams sliced, two hundred forty-four chickens, six dozen tongues sliced, ten buttocks of beef, eleven edgebones of the same, thirteen quarters of veal, forty-four house lambs, fifty-six pounds of cheese, eight pounds of chocolate, five pounds of coffee, twenty dozen bottles of strong beer, ten hogsheads of the same, three hogsheads of wine, and two of punch. In addition there were three dozen each of mince pies, apple pies, tarts, jellies, boiled puddings, cheesecakes, and custards. No one was able to keep count of the bread and fruit consumed. For some reason Agatha Trimble had found over the years that the vegetables were largely ignored and she now only had set out a dozen large salads, which were not always finished.

Alicia and her daughter arrived at six as requested, both in gowns, made especially for the occasion, which they had been working on for a week. Felicia had convinced her mother that a burgundy velvet fabric in the shop would be most becoming; Felicia had chosen a navy blue satin and at the last moment had made it more demure than she had originally intended. Her mother sympathized with the change and made no mention of it.

The Coombs were shown into the lavender parlor where the rest of the party, consisting entirely of the residents of the court, were assembled, with the lone exception of the dowager marchioness. Lord Stronbert greeted them himself and introduced Alicia to his various relations. Miss Carnworth whispered, quite loud enough for the marquis to hear, that Cousin Evelyn had been a bit recalcitrant but was expected to appear momentarily. Stronbert’s eyes danced as he heard this, but he gave no other indication of his amusement.

Felicia was welcomed by the young people, and since none of them seemed to know of her terrifying adventure but inquired instead as to her recovery from the riding accident, she soon relaxed. They explained that Lord Stronbert had suggested that they not call for a few days to give her a chance to recover completely, but they were hoping that she would feel up to riding with them the next day. Felicia gladly accepted, but her eyes on Rowland were wary enough that he readily accepted his uncle’s advice about treating her carefully. It was difficult for him not to blurt out his outrage and his concern for her, but the effort was worthwhile, for later Felicia timidly placed her hand on his arm for him to take her into the dining parlor.

The dowager marchioness made a grand entrance. Since only Miss Carnworth and the marquis himself knew of the gown, the others were astonished to see Lady Stronbert arrive in an extremely attractive, fashionable French brocade. The general was heard to exclaim, “Egad! Who would have known she was such a handsome woman?”
The others settled for complimenting her, while Felicia’s eyes shone with pride and she shared a speaking look with her mother across the room.

Stronbert crossed to her and murmured, “Thank you, Mother. I have never seen you looking better.”

The dowager marchioness eyed him sternly and tapped his sleeve with an ivory fan. “I know Cousin Susan sewed it, but you will never convince me that she designed it. Was it the girl—Miss Coombs?”