by Eva Devon
With every turn of phrase Allegra felt more akin to these women than any she had since she and her sister, Juliana, were girls. For so long, she’d been utterly alone in her thoughts and wishes. It seemed impossible that she might achieve friends amidst ton ladies.
“Do forgive me Allegra, but it seems to me,” said Cordelia, “that you were running away for, no doubt, a good reason. You saw a prison before you. A long, drawn out, never-ending prison. But now? You are free.”
“I am married.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. These women were intimates of Nicholas or his friends. To say such a thing aloud was an insult to her husband, though she suspected that Nicholas knew she was wary of their new status still.
To her surprise, there were no looks of recrimination. If anything, Cordelia most of all, looked pleased.
“You are an intelligent creature,” Cordelia declared. “I admire it. I, too, thought my marriage a prison. I traveled from Africa to London to end it.”
This is what she had heard, yet it seemed impossible to believe that this strong woman would give up such a life so far away to be a London wife. “But you did not?”
“No,” Cordelia said without hesitation. “And I’ve found my marriage to be far more liberating than my single life.”
“I don’t believe it.” Once again, Allegra was furious with herself for speaking so honestly, but it seemed that with these women, like with Nicholas, she felt compelled to speak her mind.
The duchesses shared knowing glances.
“I was alone in my single life,” Cordelia explained. “Adrift. I had no partnership with a meaningful person. Oh, I suppose I could have taken lovers, but that’s not the same as having a man in your corner who will defend you to the last.”
“I don’t want to be defended,” Allegra scowled. I am not a damsel in a tower.”
Cordelia arched an irritated, blond brow. “Do I look such a fool? I, who have ridden with wild dervishes? I, who have been a captive of tribes and rescued myself? I, who have seen the great temples of the ancients? All without the help of a man.”
Allegra shrunk a bit in her chair, embarrassed now. Cordelia’s words did make her statement seem positively idiotic. “Forgive me, I meant no offense.”
“What you must understand,” said Kathryn, “is not that we ladies expect to be protected like porcelain in a cupboard. Oh, no. You see, we also defend our men. Our dukes. We would go tooth and nail to support them.”
“So, our relationships are reciprocal,” added Imogen.
“Under English law, how can they be? We are all property,” she pointed out.
“Not me!” put in Lady Gemma brandishing her champagne flute. “I am unshackled.”
“Which begs the question, how the Devil are you out and about?” Allegra sputtered. Her mother never would have let her out in the company of such open-minded, married ladies.
“My mother is a scandal and wants me to have a well-rounded education,” Gemma quipped.
“And I’ve taken her in hand,” Cordelia said. “Lest she ruin herself faster than a filly over a fence at the races.”
“And that,” Gemma agreed.
Allegra laughed despite herself. “What did Nicholas tell you about me?”
Imogen grew serious and said simply, “That you were in need of intelligent, independent, female friends who’d support you as you navigate the strange waters of the ton.”
Tears stung her eyes. Nicholas wanted her to have friends? It shouldn’t surprise her. Not at all. He was a very good man and yet, she could not shake the sick feeling that she might have the most beautiful cage in the world but she was still a bird locked within.
Just like these ladies, even if they refused to admit it.
“I thank you for your friendship,” she said softly.
Kathryn sighed. “I see you shall not be convinced by conversation. Only action shall show you that you are a formidable creature indeed, married or no.”
Allegra laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
Cordelia winked, seemingly appeased. “Like water, and I cannot help but like you for your stubbornness. Now, let’s plan your ball.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Imogen winked merrily. “The event in which you shall shatter London with your shocking marriage and even more shockingly liberal views. Let’s plan it!”
Liberal views. . . She was allowed to do such a thing. “Nicholas. . .”
“Doesn’t need to be consulted. He doesn’t want to be. He wants you to do this,” Imogen replied. “He wants you to understand that your party should be done your way.”
“With a little help from your friends, of course,” teased Kathryn.
“Now, let’s start another bottle,” suggested Imogen, eyeing the tray nearby. “We’ve three more left to finish after all!”
Allegra felt something she hadn’t felt in some time. Hope that all would be well. She knew it was a dangerous thing to contemplate. After all, in her experience, when one played with the ton, one had their wings summarily clipped.
Yet, here were four women, colorful birds all, soaring.
Chapter 18
It was preposterous that a carriage ride down a busy London street to Hatchard’s Book Shop could cause Allegra to have quite so many nerves. But there it was.
Cordelia had suggested to Nicholas that she could take Allegra out for an airing. Nowhere too popular or obvious.
Though concern had darkened Nicholas’ eyes for a moment, he’d simply said, “Whatever Allegra requires.”
The way in which Nicholas was giving way to her almost every desire was astonishing and somewhat horrifying. She felt incredibly perverse. Was he afraid to tell her no, lest she perceive him a dictator?
She bit down on her lower lip. This strange dance she and Nicholas had done since the night of their wedding had left her strangely exhausted, even if the days had been largely full of enjoyment.
How could she find peace in her marriage? How could they stop circling each other, waiting for one to do something the other might not be able to support?
Or was she a fool? Was she the only one uneasy in their marriage? It seemed difficult to fathom that Nicholas could be happy, being forced to make her his bride out of a sense of honor.
Still, she was grateful to Cordelia to be in her coach, bouncing along, even on well sprung wheels, maneuvering through the choked thoroughfare to the front entrance of Hatchard’s.
It had been the only place she wished to go.
And she wished to buy a certain book that her mother had never allowed her to read.
She followed Cordelia down onto the pavement and through the door into the shop. Books lined every shelf and there was an air of excitement and worship at once in the vicinity.
Cordelia gave her a little nod then headed off towards a section filled with thick tomes.
The only times she’d ever been on her own in her whole life had been on her journey to Nicholas’ estate and then in her initial work there. Before, she’d always had her mother or a chaperone by her side every moment she’d stepped out of the house.
It was true Cordelia was not far away but it was different. Cordelia wasn’t watching her, ensuring she neither be besmirched nor prevent her misbehavior. They were there as equal companions.
Allegra felt a sudden light-shouldered independence as she scanned the shelves decked with multihued, leather-bound books and headed towards the counter. Just the scent of the collection of works sent her lips tilting in a smile.
A young man with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose blinked rapidly as she neared. “Madam? May I assist you?”
“Yes, I’d like a copy of A Vindication of the Rights of Women.”
“Ah, a marvelous and somewhat radical text.” The young man nodded happily, his red hair falling over his forehead. “But one cannot help but admire the authoress. Can one not?”
It took her a moment to realize he was genuinely asking for her opinion.
Her smile deepened. “I admire Mary Wollstonecraft very much.”
“In my rather unimportant opinion, all educated women should. All women should! Indeed all men should, too!”
“Mr. Pierce, are you attempting to flatter me?” a strong voice said from behind a crowded bookshelf.
Allegra felt her whole body tense. It couldn’t be! Could it?
“Why Mrs. Wollstonecraft!” Mr. Pierce exclaimed. “I mean Mrs. Godwin. . . I mean . . .”
“Dear fellow, don’t give yourself an apoplexy. Both are my names and I can answer to either.”
The thrill of excitement that rushed through Allegra nearly sent her wits wandering. For years, she’d heard of Mrs. Wollstonecraft and her circle. Of Edmund Burke. Of Mr. Godwin. Of William Wilberforce. Of those extraordinary thinkers that wished to expand the rights of all humans, not just the aristocracy or men.
She’d snuck books by Burke and Godwin from her father’s extensive library but her father had been firm that his views did not allow for a liberated woman’s words to grace his shelves.
And so, for years, she had simply longed to know what such a woman might say about the world and women’s places in it.
Heart pounding, Allegra turned.
The lady she faced was not beautiful, but her features were strong and her hair floated about her face in dark clouds. Nor was she young. No, she was a woman in the full flush of her power. A woman that Allegra aspired to emulate.
The authoress peered from behind the bookshelf. “Are you purchasing my work?”
Allegra nodded, desperately gathering her thoughts. “I am.”
“Good,” the older lady said. “More women should.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to agree and nod like an acolyte before her God. She paused then replied instead, “Alas, many women are restricted from purchase either by financial reasons or familial constrictions.”
Mary Wollstonecraft stilled. She eyed Allegra with a new degree of interest. “You have clearly given the matter some thought.”
“I am the victim of such circumstance.”
The lady eyed her up and down. “Clearly not financial.”
It was a rather shocking but frank observation. If anything, Allegra felt bolstered by it. “Why make such an assumption? My male owner might not give me pin money. It is not required by any sort of law. I may have the costume of wealth but further, if my father or husband forbade such reading material, what good would coin do me? I might try to purchase it subversively, of course, but it might be at great risk. Subversion, I have recently discovered, can be fatal to a lady.”
“Have you, indeed?” Mary Wollstonecraft came from her place and joined Allegra in front of Mr. Pierce. “Did you escape your fatal brush? You must have if you are now here purchasing my book.”
“Indeed,” Allegra agreed but she felt herself warming to this discourse, “but one might make the argument that I have robbed Peter to pay Paul.”
“How so?”
“I have left my restrictive, though wealthy, father and married.”
Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s brows lifted. “Not like your restrictive father then, but a liberal, wealthy fellow?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Wollstonecraft beamed. “Why then young woman, if by chance you like your husband, you have won the lottery of life.”
“I do like him, but I am not sure I can wholeheartedly agree. . .”
“How old are you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mrs. Wollstonecraft eyed her again, only this time her gaze was more accessing. “If I were to guess, you are not yet one and twenty.”
“I am not,” Allegra admitted.
A kind smile gentled Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s face. “Then you are still an idealist which is not a bad thing. Idealists are essential to the forward movement of society.”
A shrug rippled Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s cape. “But I shall tell you that as we age, our intellect and emotions ripen. We come to understand that while we long for Utopia, we must live in the present world. And if we cannot find acceptance of it in some form, then we will die on the rack of misery.”
The declaration was a great deal to take in.
“I thought you fought for women’s rights,” Allegra sputtered.
“I do. I do! I will do so until the day I die and then hopefully my books shall continue my work after I am gone. At one time, I thought I should eschew all male company and live in an ideal circumstance with women only. What a world we’d create! How glorious! How perfect.”
Allegra frowned. “You forsook this.”
“Well, you heard Mr. Pierce. I’m Mrs. Godwin now. Clearly, I do not live in a world only peopled by women.”
“And you did this of your own will?” Allegra could scarcely countenance what was being said. “You became his property?”
Mr. Pierce’s head was bobbing back and forth on his thin neck as he witnessed the discourse.
“Yes, Mr. Pierce?” Mrs. Godwin said. “Do you have something to add?”
“Not at all. Not at all. Just honored to be witnessing such discourse.”
“Well then, we shall allow Mr. Pierce to be the witness to the discourse of educated females.” Mrs. Godwin folded her hands. “At present, the law of the land does make me Mr. Godwin’s property. . . It also allows for slaves, the virtual enslavement of children in factories in this country. Children are raised in poverty with no education. There is no help for the sick and destitute save workhouses. It is a cold, hard world we live in. Should we give up entirely? Should we not take what good we can get? For I can tell you this, Mr. Godwin and I have such an accord I cannot express it to you. We know the law and yet we do not let it destroy our lives. We are above such things. I do not fear this law because I don’t fear Mr. Godwin, and yet, I will fight every day of my life to end injustice.”
Mrs. Godwin leaned forward. “I can see the turmoil in your young face as I speak. Do not throw away your happiness for a mere principle. Work hard. Work daily to change this law you so abhor. But would you choose a life of misery and give up the man you love in the name of your scruples?”
“I could have just been his mistress. . . I could have. . .”
Mrs. Godwin laughed dryly. “Because a woman’s lot is so much better as a mistress. My dear young woman, every day a woman treads this earth, she will know turmoil whilst men rule it. Married or no, she has little recourse. And it seems to me that, quite possibly, you have far more recourse than most.”
“My husband is very powerful and doesn’t limit my interests,” she confessed.
“Ah. There, you see.” Mrs. Wollstonecraft took Allegra’s gloved hand in hers and gave it a small squeeze. “Give up your pedantic and meaningless loyalty to your principle and instead, use the power of your union to do something meaningful about your cause.”
Allegra bridled at Mrs. Godwin’s kind censure but then her anger dimmed as reason took hold. To insist on her loyalty to her vow that she never marry, that she live the life of independence Juliana had never known, was being petty and pedantic. As Nicholas’ wife, Duchess of Roth, she could do far more for women like Juliana than if she ran off to France and attended parties and lived a life of defiance.
“I should like to invite you to a ball,” Allegra said suddenly.
That seemed to finally flummox Mrs. Godwin. “A ball?”
“Yes. The Duke and Duchess of Roth’s ball.”
“My husband and I do not usually attend such—”
“My ball.”
Mr. Pierce let out a peep of shock. “Y-your Grace?”
She gave a small nod. “Though Mr. Pierce, your silence on my status, at least until after this ball, would be greatly appreciated. I am only here incognito, so to speak.”
“I will be silent as the grave,” Mr. Pierce said passionately. “To have such patronage!”
She smiled. “Yes, Mr. Pierce. I will be a duchess who buys books. Many, many books. So, please, keep this information to yourself
for now. I trust Mrs. Godwin that you will do the same.”
“Certainly,” the authoress returned easily. “And now, I must add that I have been giving guidance to someone who can do far more than I for women at present.”
“Do not say such a thing!” Allegra protested.
“I do not favor the aristocracy,” Mrs. Godwin said frankly. “But nor am I a fool. And as I said to you, I shall not allow a principle to interfere with practical matters. You, my young acquaintance, will have the ear of men who would spit upon my books before they were to lift the cover.”
“Please, come to my ball. Please.” And then an idea occurred to her. “I shall invite you and your husband, and as many of the political activists that I may. I shall fill the ballroom with the great minds of the day.”
“The lords will not know what to think.”
“Most of them do not think at all,” Allegra replied.
Mrs. Godwin chortled. “Then it is a sight I must see. I accept your invitation and look forward to seeing how you wield your influence.”
With that, Mrs. Godwin gave a small curtsy and headed out the door into the busy street.
Cordelia came back bearing several books. “Are you ready? Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes,” she said brightly. “I do believe I did.”
Chapter 19
From the surface, it seemed that Nicholas had found the perfect marriage. Every day since the wedding, he and Alfred had spent the hours together. Nights had been filled with passion, daylight hours, too. And yet. . .
He was fairly certain that Allegra was not content in their marriage.
Nicholas crossed into the private room reserved for the Dukes’ Club. He needed a brandy.
Aston boomed, “You’re back!”
“And it seems you’ve never left.”
“Not true. Not true, old boy.” Aston twirled his feathered hat, a massive thing of a bygone age, over his hand. Then he took a large drink from the bottle in his other hand. “I attended your wedding. I attended Blackburn’s wedding, too! Weddings galore!”
