Star Sapphire: Love and wild adventure in Regency England

by Janet Louise Roberts

  The journey seemed a very rough one to her. The large vessel swayed alarmingly from side to side, sending her baggage across the floor, only to have it slide back again, again, and again. She felt too ill and too weak to stand. Jacob brought her food, water and hot tea, and cared for her anxiously.

  The soldiers were in a worse way — crammed into the holds with only a few of their comrades and a doctor or surgeon to look after their wounds. Some died, quietly or with a protesting cry, and were buried at sea.

  The Atlantic pounded at them in one last futile effort to destroy them where the French had failed. The convoy groaned and pressed its way northwards, towards safety and the English shore.

  By the time they reached port, Sonia was practically unconscious. She was thin as a bird; her hands were so white that one could see the bones through the flesh. Jacob wrapped her in a blanket and carried her ashore to the nearest inn. There he sent a messenger to the small port where his carriage and his faithful coachman had waited these three months. It was almost the end of October.

  The coachman came with the carriage. Jacob conveyed her to London, and deposited her at her townhouse. Leah came running from the house, out into the foggy evening, with cries and sobs of dismay as Sonia was carried in by two sturdy footmen. Jacob was almost as exhausted. He did not even wait to speak to his father beyond a word of greeting.

  Leah got Sonia to bed, this woman who could not even open her eyes. Leah said, staring down at her sternly, “And where have you been these months? Your husband has been crazed with anxiety, and is after me at all times to learn what I know. I promised him I would send for him at once, and so I shall!”

  “Not — tonight — I beg — you —” murmured Sonia, and turned her head to the pillow.

  But Leah did send for Alastair, and he came at once, storming into the house. Leah hushed him, showing him Sonia, sleeping the sleep of complete exhaustion, white as her pillow.

  “My God, what happened to her?” he whispered, and would not leave her for a time, gazing down at the thin body, the wasted face and hands. “I cannot believe this. What could have happened?”

  “She is home at last,” said Leah, with some satisfaction. “ We will not let her leave again!”

  CHAPTER 16

  Alastair moved into Sonia’s townhouse. She was unconscious most of the time for the next few days. He hovered over her, worried about her, incredulous at the wasted form he saw. What could have happened to her?

  He longed to question Jacob, but her cousin was at his own home, closed in with his wife and baby son. He questioned Meyer Goldfine, who shrugged and said, “How could I know what has happened?”

  Alastair thought the uncle knew more than he was telling, but he knew also that Meyer could keep his silence. It would be easier to find out from Sonia when she had recovered.

  He had never known such fury, such frantic anxiety as in these past three months. Sonia gone, never a word from her, her maid as furious and anxious as himself… People asked after her, and all he could do was say brusquely, “She has gone to the country for a holiday,” and that was all.

  Edwina questioned him shyly, but quieted when he turned on them all angrily. “I do not know where she is! If I knew, I would go after her and haul her back, and whip her in the bargain! Defying me like this, shaming me — and gone without a word! I’ll be damned if she can play me such a trick!”

  So his brother and sisters shook their heads and told polite lies to Society. They had all returned from Fairley when it seemed evident that something unusual had happened.

  Alastair had gone to see Jacob’s wife, but Beryl seemed to know nothing. He was amazed to learn that Jacob was gone. Had he deserted his own wife and baby son? It seemed incredible.

  Alastair hated the opening of the season. All stared at him, or seemed to, when he went out. He stayed home more often, gazing vacantly at the walls, trying to read or occupy himself. He took more care of the books, brought accounts up to date, drove his secretary frantic with conflicting orders about his engagements.

  Maurice escorted Edwina and Henrietta about, Alastair being coldly uninterested in anything to do with Vauxhall, the opera, plays or balls. Henrietta shook her head over him. “If this is what happens in marriage, I think I shall be a spinster,” she told Edwina gravely. “Why, Alastair does not even wish to dance!”

  Edwina sighed. She took a graver view of the matter, worrying quietly about whether Alastair and Sonia had quarrelled. Sonia was so quiet, but she had a temper, and a determined will of her own, and such pride! As much pride as Alastair, if not more! Whatever could have happened?

  Then finally Sonia had returned, and Alastair hung over her. He waited anxiously for her to open her eyes, to speak. She finally did, on an early day in November, when she saw him there, at her bedside.

  “Why — Alastair,” she said, and her voice had a glad ring. “It is — you?”

  He squeezed her thin fingers carefully. “It is I. And who is this, my little thin bird?” he said caressingly. “Can it be my Sonia?”

  Her fingers were still hot and feverish, but her grey eyes were clear. She smiled weakly. “It is . I thought I would never… Oh, my, am I home at last?”

  “At your townhouse in London, my dear. But as soon as you can be moved, I shall take you to my house,” he said with firmness. “That is where you belong!”

  She sighed and went to sleep again, her fingers clinging to his. He worried over her, scowling at Leah as she moved about the room.

  “Where can she have been?” he asked abruptly.

  Leah said, “I do not know, but she is home, and that is all that matters!”

  It was not all, but he could do nothing about that now. He brooded over Sonia’s thin form, ordered broth and sops for her, and fed her himself whenever she wakened. Leah suggested strengthening cold puddings and milk custards. Sonia finally ate some of those also that week, seeming to gain strength each day.

  Finally the time came when she could sit up. The doctor came, a bearded man who felt her pulse and said, “Now, the fever is gone. That is good. You must be easy for a time, madam.”

  “I’ll take her home,” said Alastair.

  “To Fairley?” murmured Sonia.

  The doctor shook his head. “No long journeys for a while,” he said.

  Alastair followed the black-bearded doctor from the room. In the hallway he urged, “Where could my wife have picked up this fever, doctor?”

  The doctor gazed at him with half-closed eyes. “Anywhere that she travelled, my lord,” he said abruptly, then went on down the stairs.

  Damn it! Was everyone in some conspiracy to deceive him? He went back to Sonia’s room, scowling. She was propped up against the pillows, and had picked up a hand mirror. She studied herself with troubled eyes.

  “I look terrible!” she said as Alastair came in.

  He smiled, in spite of his worry. “Now you are recovering! How feminine you sound!” he teased. “Actually you look much better than you did. Such a thin wisp of a thing!”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, took away the mirror, and bent to kiss her. She responded with unexpected passion, her hands on his shoulders, and a pink coming up in her cheeks. He kissed her again.

  “Do you know how much I missed you?” he murmured into her ear, kissing it and then the bit of white throat below it.

  “How much?” she said, her grey eyes shining and sparkling. How animated she looked, now that the life in her had started to return! He had noted before how expressive her large grey eyes were, how they showed her moods. When she was happy, they shone with beautiful lights. When she was depressed, they seemed a dull grey. And when she felt insulted, he had seen her with eyes like cold grey marble.

  “I missed you bitterly. All life was dull for me — and I shouted at Maurice and the girls until they fled from me.”

  “Oh, Alastair!” she reproached.

  “Where did you go?” he asked abruptly, holding her so he could see her face. T
he dark curly lashes drooped over her eyes.

  “I cannot tell you,” she said simply.

  “Don’t you know?” A trace of harshness came into his voice. His fingers tightened on the frail shoulders.

  “Oh, Alastair, do not question me, I pray you. I cannot tell you anything. I — I went for a holiday —”

  “And came back looking as though you had been in a battle!” he said furiously.

  Her lashes opened wide, and she gazed at him for a startled moment. Then she laughed feebly. “That is a jest, indeed,” she said.

  “I’ll ask Jacob!”

  “He cannot tell you. I beg you, Alastair, do not ask us. We did nothing to be ashamed of,” she said quietly, a catch in her voice. “One day I may be able to tell you. But I cannot tell you now, I cannot.”

  With that she would say no more. Her obstinacy vied with his jealousy and curiosity. She was too weak to be pushed. He satisfied himself with bundling her up and taking her back to his townhouse.

  Edwina welcomed her with great relief, the others with delight and pleasure. “Oh, to see you again! But you are so thin and wan,” exclaimed Edwina compassionately.

  Edwina saw her up to her apartment, shooing Henrietta away when the younger girl would have chatted. Sonia was weary from the move, Alastair saw, and he ordered her left alone to recover.

  But the housekeeper would insist on going to Sonia for orders so soon after such a serious illness. Alastair was cross. “You managed with Edwina… keep on doing so!”

  “Oh, but my lord — my lady knows so much about matters,” said the difficult woman, bowing and leaving.

  Alastair smiled and sighed. In the few months she had been his wife, Sonia had managed to win their hearts, no matter what they had thought of her in the beginning. And she had impressed him with her wisdom and experience in household matters. She was a darling girl, and he had missed her so much. Now he felt happier and could relax, stretching out his feet to the fire. Even with her all the way upstairs in her own room he felt her presence in the house and was satisfied. Her long absence had been a horrible worry, a torment.

  At night, he slept with the doors opened between their apartments, fuming that another room was between them. He felt rather uneasy, for he had sent Leah to her own quarters and said he would take care of Sonia should she waken. The abigail had not liked that, but Alastair did not want someone always about.

  He wakened with a great start when he heard Sonia cry out in the night. Leah had said her mistress had been having nightmares, and that that was one reason she had not wanted to leave her alone. Alastair grabbed his robe and sped to her room. She was sitting up. He lit the candle at the bedside, and sat down beside her.

  Her eyes were shut, she was grabbing at empty space. “Oh, the faces — my God, the faces,” she was moaning. “No — no, you cannot come into the carriage. No, no! Go away or I will shoot! I warn you, I will shoot! Oh, the faces, the bloody faces! There is blood on my hands —”

  He was deeply alarmed. He took her shaking hands, and held them tenderly. They were chilled, the fingers stiff. He pressed them to his warm body. “Sonia,” he said quietly. “Sonia, you are home with me. My dearest Sonia, it is only a nightmare. Wake up!”

  She was moaning, saying words in another language. He did not know what it was, but it was soft and sibilant. He shook her slightly, and held her to him.

  “Alastair?” Her voice came muffled against his chest.

  “Yes, my dear. You were dreaming.”

  He brushed back her hair. Her forehead was damp with perspiration. She was shuddering deeply. “I dreamed — I was still back there… Oh, Alastair, am I home? In my dream I was going home, but I also dreamed of waking to the cruel reality —”

  He soothed her, tender and anxious. But he was the more deeply puzzled about her. It was certain she had gone on no holiday or romantic entanglement. No matter that Jacob had gone with her. Either something had gone badly wrong, or they had shared some desperate venture. What could it have been?

  She finally calmed and lay back. “I am awake. Forgive me, Alastair, I did not mean to waken you.”

  But her hands clung reluctantly to his sleeve. He smiled down at her, and took off his robe. “I am going to remain with you tonight, doctor or no doctor,” he said firmly. “I will hold you when you dream, and you will know you are safe.”

  Her eyes brightened. “But you — you might catch the fever —”

  “No matter.” He crawled into bed with her, blew out the candle and drew her into his arms. How slim and frail she seemed. He stroked his hand lightly over her bare arm. “There, now, love, my dove, sleep and be calm.”

  “Thank you, you are so good — to me — so good —” She turned and curled up against him like a child. But her body was not that of a child. He felt heat racing through his veins. He repressed all desire sternly, for she was not nearly strong enough for any passion. He held her closely to him and continued stroking her arm and shoulder, for it seemed to soothe and comfort her.

  He slept with her every night after that. She continued to have some nightmares, but he would waken as they began, for she would stir and moan and sometimes cry out. He could soothe her before they got a grip on her. She seemed better for his presence.

  Sonia continued to improve, and more rapidly now, and soon she could walk slowly downstairs and sit in the smaller drawing room for a time. Then the others clustered around. Edwina was eager to tell her about a new beau, Henrietta wanted advice about some dresses for the winter. Maurice came and went, flitting from one girl to another, but always in high spirits. And Alastair was happy to sit with Sonia, contentedly smoking his pipe with his feet stretched out to the fire, like a country bumpkin, as Maurice teased him.

  Alastair would not be drawn. “I have done all my running about,” he said. “I am an old married man now. Besides, Sonia will do too much if I don’t stop her!”

  So he remained with her much of the evenings. During the day he came and went, discharging the business of the estate at Fairley by post, or sometimes attending the sessions of Parliament, in which he had recently begun to take an interest. He did not speak of these to Sonia, as he was not sure she was interested. She never questioned where he went, and she did not seem to take much notice of what went on for a time.

  Finally, he saw her with her sketch pad, and realized she was drawing again, some jewellery designs. He was pleased, for it meant she was becoming herself once more.

  Edwina was urging her to go out with them. “You have not gone to anything this season, and truly it is a gay time,” she told Sonia one evening. “Do come with us to Sir Frederick Toland’s ball. It promises to be quite the thing! And you could wear your new silvery dress. Alastair, have you seen Sonia’s silver gown?”

  “No, I have not. When shall I see it, Sonia?” he asked lazily.

  She smiled shyly… He enjoyed watching that flash of animation come into her pale cheeks. “It is in the new Greek design, Alastair,” she said. “The gown is of silver, with a deeper silver Greek key design on the hem and sleeves, and the whole covered with chiffon. Edwina is delighted with it. She will have one of delphinium blue, and Henrietta one of rose.”

  “Charming,” said Alastair. “And when shall we go out again? Do you wish to attend Sir Frederick’s affair?”

  “Well — I do feel stronger,” she hesitated, her finger on her lip in her usual gesture of consideration.

  “Oh, do let us all go!” urged Henrietta, sitting up on her deep cushions before the fire. “Everyone has been asking about Sonia, and saying where is she, and how is she recovering. She must come out, and let people see her and how well she is.”

  Alastair sent out their promise to attend, and was amused at how eagerly the girls prepared. He decided to wear his blue velvet trimmed with silver to match Sonia’s silver, and his blue sapphire ring, of which he was now very fond. He went to see Sonia when she was dressed and her maid was doing her hair.

  “Exquisite,” he
breathed when he saw her before the mirror. She looked almost ethereal, as though a puff of wind would blow her away. There were silvery draperies about her, and the chiffon over the silk, and Leah was setting a silver tiara on her head with the loveliest of vivid blue sapphires on it in a delicate arrangement. “I am almost afraid to touch you, my dear! Are you sure you are real, or are you a fairy queen?”

  She laughed and blushed at his compliments. Leah gave him a pleasant look of approval and said, “Does she not look a very princess? And all designed by herself, if you will!”

  He raised Sonia’s wrist to study the delicate silver and sapphire bracelet, so fine it looked as though it could be crushed by a finger. She wore a ring of one sapphire and small earrings in her delicate ears. She gave a swift look at him, shyly, approving his blue and silver, and noting that he wore the star sapphire. He held out his hand, with a smile.

  “My lucky ring, my dear,” he said caressingly.

  “I am so glad that it pleases you,” she said simply.

  She stood up, and he caught his breath again. The silver silk clung to her slender body, showing the slim waist, the rounded soft breasts, the smooth hips, and the long legs. Beneath the silver chiffon overdress, the silver Greek key design of the hem and sleeves shone through in a dim glimmer. Such a dress a Titania might have worn, flitting through a green forest glade.

  He escorted her proudly down the stairs to the hallway.

  The girls were in good time, Edwina radiant in a blue velvet cloak, with a glimpse of her lighter blue chiffon and silk gown beneath. Henrietta wore her rose velvet cloak over a rose gown. Maurice ran down the stairs to stop and stare.

  “A bevy of goddesses,” he said so solemnly that they all had to laugh. That started them out in a gay happy mood, and the beaming butler aided them into their carriages.

  Alastair was proud as he took Sonia in on his arm. Everyone was turning to stare at her, to whisper and wonder at her ethereal beauty tonight. She was exquisitely gowned and coiffed, and her jewels outshone anyone else’s, he thought. They might wear their heavy diamonds and emeralds, but no one had such perfectly designed gems as his wife. And her gown — it moved with her, whispering about her delicate silver-shod feet.