by Locke, Laura
His hand slid from the soft fabric of her dress. He raised a brow, as if he hadn't really meant to do it, and leaned back.
“It should be an interesting concert,” he said, looking out of the window. Cornelia relaxed somewhat.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I believe we have a new conductor. Famous fellow. Did a lot abroad before moving to London: one never knows with foreign sorts. But then, Haydn himself was foreign, was he not?”
Cornelia laughed. “True. So the conductor may well know things we do not.”
“My thought exactly.”
As they talked about music, Cornelia felt herself relax. She decided perhaps she had imagined the inappropriate touch, the strange manner. He was affable, knowledgeable and cultured. He wouldn't lay hands on her, would he?
“Ah.” He raised a hand as the carriage slowed. “Here we are.”
Cornelia let him hand her out of the coach and they walked together up the steps of the theater. Cornelia felt her whole body fill with excitement as they entered the place, breathing in the mix of perfumes and candle-wax, noticing the elegant ladies in their dresses of white and ocher and green and red and pink, the gentlemen all in black. She smoothed a hand down her skirt and looked around. A few heads turned as they entered and she felt a sense of pride.
We must make quite a striking pair, I'll admit.
It was a good feeling. She scanned the room, hoping Alexandra had seen them. She could feel Richmond beside her, his hand on her arm. She looked for his sister. At length, she spotted her.
“Cornelia!” Alexandra came to join them. As she always did, she looked so elegant, with her dress chestnut brown and a plume in her long, dark hair. She smiled at her brother, who leveled a look at her.
“Sister. Shall we go in?”
“Oh, yes. I've had my fill of the drinks and guests down here. Let's to our seats.”
Cornelia followed them in. They sat in a box – not one of the best ones, but one that nevertheless afforded a wonderful view of the performers below. Cornelia sat beside Richmond on the left, Alexandra on his right. He seemed quite proud to be with two such ladies, Cornelia fancied.
“You two must excuse me,” Alexandra said as they sat down. “I'm an awfully bad concert-goer. I tend to fall asleep.”
Cornelia stared at her and couldn't help a giggle. The thought of Alexandra dropping off in the middle of the concert seemed so at odds that it was really endearing – the only human foible she seemed to have. Besides envy, that was.
“We shall ignore it if you do, sister,” Richmond said smoothly. Cornelia protested.
“If you feel sleepy, do sleep,” she said quickly. “If aught important happens, we'll be sure to wake you.”
“Thank you, dear.” Alexandra gave her a smile. “Now, I shall settle down. If the theater catches fire, I trust Cornelia will wake me.”
“I will,” Cornelia giggled. She glanced sideways at Alexandra, as if she still didn't quite believe her, but, as the orchestra began to tune up she saw how Alexandra composed herself and closed her eyes.
“I love concerts,” Cornelia whispered to Richmond. Despite herself, she felt excited. I have not attended one for a long time. It's no wonder I can still be excited, despite the company I have.
“I find them a bit tedious, myself, “Richmond confessed, leaning over to whisper in Cornelia's ear. “The only good thing about them is those with whom you attend.” he smiled at her winningly. She tensed, feeling uncomfortable again. If Alexandra was supposed to chaperone me, she wasn't much use fast asleep!
Cornelia ignored her discomposure and watched the performance. The conductor took his position and the orchestra began the symphony.
“Isn't it lovely?” Cornelia whispered to Richmond, enraptured.
“It is lovely,” he whispered back. “Though not as lovely as you, m'dear.”
Cornelia tensed as his hand crept onto my knee again. She tensed, hating the way it probed through the cloth as if to feel her skin, his fingers stroking my thigh. Cornelia moved away, her body tense, somewhere between shock and a tentative response that shocked me.
“Richmond...” Cornelia whispered.
“Cornelia.” His mouth was at Cornelia's ear, and it moved a little lower, nibbling and then licking at the pale neck below. Cornelia stiffened in outrage. Why can I not speak? I should ask him not to do that. But my throat swallows the words and I can't even make myself breathe.
His mouth moved lower, nuzzling Cornelia's clavicle and then lower, as his hand moved up, stroking the bodice of the gown. Cornelia was rigid in shock. His fingers move on the skin of Cornelia's neck and she turned away, sharply.
He looked up, and seemed amused by my reaction. He withdrew his hand.
Cornelia sat, shocked and stunned, trying to relax. She smoothed her hands down her skirt, rearranging it, crossed her arms across her body and breathed deeply. What he did made me feel dirty. Shameful. I did not like it. I want to cut the dress he'd touched off my body, take a bath in hot water to wash his touch away.
Cornelia sighed. I would feel the revulsion of his hands creeping over me every time I thought about it, though. I could wash him off my body, but I could not forget or erase it from my mind.
Cornelia glanced sideways at him, but he was paying rapt attention to the orchestra. It was as if he was pretending indifference to her now. That made her confused, and angry. And she felt even worse.
Being trapped in this box with him is bad enough, without him first tormenting me and then pretending I imagined it!
Cornelia looked at Alexandra. She was seemingly-asleep. Her eyes were closed, the dark lashes standing out on the pale skin. She looked utterly at peace with the world. Cornelia found she was almost more angry with her than she even was with him. She was my friend! She was supposed to be here to care for me and she let that happen to me! How could she?
The symphony was not a long one, and soon there was an interval. Cornelia looked over to Alexandra, but she was fast asleep.
Richmond turned to her. “Shall we go?”
“Yes,” Cornelia said in a tight voice. I want to escape from this place and out into the hallway awhile.
“Very well. Go ahead.” He waved her forward and she slipped out of the velvety seat and into the box, heading for the curtained-off rear door.
Richmond was behind her. In the darkness of the entrance, he pressed Cornelia against the wall, pushing his body against her, his tongue probing into her mouth. She stiffened. His body pushed against her, pushing her breasts flat as he reached for her side with his hand, running it up to where her breasts strained against the fabric of my gown.
His tongue was inside her mouth, pushing into it and plundering it as his hands stroked her body. She felt attacked. She wanted to fight him, but what was the point? He would overpower her and any violence would make him be more violent in return. Already she could hardly breathe and his hand where he had taken her wrist in his fingers was tight and demanding.
At last he moved back. His eyes were closed and she turned her head away, wrenched to the side.
Cornelia reached the door and flung it open and stepped out into the hallway. Her lungs were heaving and her hair was tumbling from the elaborate style. She stayed there for an instant and then ran down the stairs.
In the hallway, Cornelia slipped through the crowds, heading for the door. She ran out onto the terrace and stood there, heaving in great gulps of night air. It was cold outside, and she shivered, wishing she had brought some sort of wrap. The days grew colder faster now, the season cooling.
I don't care how cold it is; I won't go back.
Her body tensed with a kind of horror at the thought of Richmond catching her. What would he do if she went back now? She'd run away from him. Lack of sleep and worry and the feeling of horror all combined to make her walk, quickly and soundlessly, down the steps.
“Milady! Light your way to the carriage?” An urchin with a torch appeared, his face fresh and harmless in the wa
rm light.
“Could you hail a coach for me?”
Cornelia prayed a Hansom would be traveling at this time and could take her to her accommodation. It was dangerous for a young woman to travel alone, but they were still in the more-salubrious part of town and it was not too far to her lodgings. And paying for the coach was fortunately not impossible, since she had her purse with her.
“Ahoy!” the boy shouted, waving his torch in some complex signal to the passing coaches. She was blessed with a Hansom within five minutes, but all that time Cornelia stood in the shadow, heart thumping, legs watery with terror.
He could come out and see me. What will he do if he sees me. I can't go back...
“Coach, milady!” the boy shouted cheerfully. Cornelia smiled at him.
“Thank you.” She passed him a coin and the vaulted up into the coach, missing his cries of “Ta! Thank 'ee, milady!” They were off.
Cornelia felt herself relax as the coach sped toward her accommodation. As they moved away from the theater, it seemed as if her body turned to water. The tension leaked out of her and she started to shake.
I did it. I got away. I'm safe, now.
She closed her eyes, weak with relief. The coach ride was brief and by the time they reached her home, she had just managed to summon the strength to alight.
“Thank you!” she called up to the coachman, paying him more than his due and then walking away, not looking back.
Inside, she rushed in past the steward and up the stairs as silently as possible. Lucas was there – a torch lit the parlor upstairs – but she walked past on tiptoe, heading for her room.
I don't want to speak to him or anyone.
She closed the door behind her and locked it. Collapsed onto the bed. Curled into a ball.
With her arms around herself, she lay there, too shocked even to cry.
I can't believe he did that. I don't understand why he did that. How could he think he could touch me like that?
Cornelia sat up after a long while, every part of her weary and aching. She pulled the bell and summoned Linton to help her undress.
As if she could sense that something was bothering her, Linton did not ask questions or even say much at all. She unpinned her hair, combed it out. Helped her out of the dress. Set out her nightdress and checked the fire was still low, then left.
“Goodnight, milady.”
“Goodnight, Linton.”
Cornelia, finally alone, curled up in the bed and, shivering with the shock tried to sleep. As it was, the relief from the tension of escape was still great and soon enough she slept.
Chapter 10
Cornelia woke the next morning feeling like every part of her body ached. She rolled over and sat up, feeling weary and bruised.
It is not my body that is bruised, but my spirit.
She looked out of the window, staring through the filmy curtains at the scene of rooftops and misty morning sky beyond. Swifts and swallows chased each other over the rooftops and the sound of a city, awake and jubilant, floated up to the room. Nothing about the scene touched her. Such joy was remote, a thing apart.
Cornelia turned away. She felt sick, remembering the previous night. How Richmond had pressed his lips to hers, his hands on her shoulders, his hard body pressed tight to her. She closed her eyes, feeling nauseous.
I will not think about it. I will forget. She shifted over. Slipped out of bed, feeling the soft carpet under her feet as she did so. She walked to the bell-rope and pulled it.
“My lady?”
“I wish to get dressed. Is Lord Lucas in?”
“He's just at breakfast, milady.”
“Oh.” Good. If Lucas was eating now, perhaps I could sneak in after he had left. She had no desire for company just then.
Cornelia sat while Linton brushed her hair, and thought about the day ahead. “I'll wear the cream day-dress, please, Linton. The one with the yellow flowers.”
“Very good, my lady.”
When I was dressed, with my hair styled – I had shown Linton the style Lady Alexandra had chosen for me and she had done her best to remake it – I headed to the breakfast room. Lucas was just leaving.
“Oh! Cousin! Should I stay? I thought you might sleep later this morning, so I started alone. I'm sorry...”
“No, don't worry about it, Lucas,” Cornelia replied, drawing out a chair. “I feel a little delicate this morning – time alone will do me good.”
Lucas shrugged. “As you will, cousin. Pleasant breakfast.”
“Thank you, Lucas. A pleasant day to you too.”
I helped myself to a little dry toast – all Cornelia felt she might keep down. As she poured and sipped her tea she planned a day that would be as untaxing as possible. Stay in the house until luncheon, practice the pianoforte. Mayhap a visit to Bridgewell's for some riband. I wanted to remake some of my bonnets in a more fashionable design.
The first half of the day proceeded as planned. It was when she was halfway through the pianoforte practice that Hudson arrived.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Cornelia. But a card just arrived for you.”
“Oh?” Cornelia looked up with what she hoped was a mildly inquiring frown. In truth, she was nervous. What might it be? Could it be word from Francis? Her heart thudded in her chest.
“I'll leave it here, my lady.” Hudson put it on the table near the door and bowed and quietly left.
Cornelia lifted it, hoping against hope it might be word from Francis. She recognized the coat of arms before she read it, and felt her palms grow wet with apprehension.
Lady Alexandra. She read the words scribbled on the address card. Do come for tea this afternoon. I have so much to say to you. Please say yes? Alexandra.
Cornelia held her hand to her chest, all the nerves and worries coagulating there in a feeling that was almost painful. Chief of those feelings was regret. She had been so short with Alexandra! It was not her fault, after all. She sounded so hurt and so contrite.
And perhaps she wants to offer some kind of explanation. That would be no bad thing. I wish I understood what was going on!
Cornelia sighed. Teatime was six hours away. She had plenty of time to make up her mind – the townhouse of Lady Alexandra's family was not too far away.
I'll send a reply when I have decided properly what to do.
She set the card aside on the table and resolved not to think about it until after luncheon. Resumed her practicing. Time passed slowly, but eventually it was half an hour past twelve and time for luncheon. By then, her nerves were frayed. Why had Richmond behaved as he had? What did Alexandra want to say? Would she offer some excuse for his behavior?
Cornelia shuddered. His possessive, persuasive way had scared her, a great deal. If Alexandra could come up with some convincing explanation for them she would be grateful.
“Hudson?” she called.
“Yes, my lady?” the steward appeared from just at the door of the small parlor, where she took her luncheon alone on a tray.
“Kindly take my card to this address, with an acceptance of the invitation?” She dabbed at her lips with a kerchief as she said it.
“Very good, my lady.” Hudson took the card and went off to find someone to deliver it. Cornelia sat where she was, feeling inexplicably nervous. She looked down at the tray with its array of cold ham and cheese, slices of bread, and felt sick.
“I should go and buy that riband.”
She stood and walked restlessly to the door, then summoned Linton to accompany her out. By tea-time, Cornelia felt like a wreck of nerves. She tied her bonnet under her chin and slipped out to the waiting carriage.
“To Northend place.”
“Good, milady.”
As they sped off across the cobbled roads, Cornelia felt less and less pleased with the notion of seeing Lady Alexandra again.
“My dear!” Alexandra was effusive as the butler showed her into the parlor briskly. “I am so very glad you accepted my invitation!”
&
nbsp; “It would have been wretched not to,” Cornelia murmured.
“Oh, my affectionate friend.” Alexandra embraced her, kissing her cheek. She was all in plum today, Cornelia noted absently, her dress a soft, floating fabric that complimented her lovely figure.
“You wished to tell me something?” Cornelia asked cautiously.
“I did indeed, my dear friend. But first, let us have some tea. We have simple teas here at Northend,” she added, waving a hand at a table that was slightly more sparsely-stocked than that at home, though, Cornelia did not doubt, with all the more fashionable things.
“Now,” Lady Alexandra said musingly, as Cornelia sat and sipped her tea, selecting a scone from the array of tea-things. “I suppose you wonder what it was I wished to talk about.”
“I do.” Cornelia nodded, swallowing a creamy mouthful of scone.
“Well, my intention was to offer an explanation, should it be necessary. Is it?”
“An explanation?” Cornelia stared. There were so many things she wished Lady Alexandra would explain. Her presence, so sudden and unpredictable, in Cornelia's own life. Her apparent friendship. Her need to criticize Cornelia while seeming to assist her. Her brother's actions.
“Oh. I see it is needed. Well, it should be obvious, should it not? My brother is in love with you.”
“What?” Cornelia stared at her, the scone she had been lifting dropping from nerveless fingers.
“Oh, Cornelia! Don't be so gauche. Of course he does – why else would he act the way he did?”
Cornelia swallowed. “I don't think that...”
“You don't think that seemed like love? Oh, my dear! It is obsession. I should not betray a brother's confidence, but my dear, he longs for you.”
Cornelia felt her cheeks burn. He did? Somehow, the thought of that did not fill her so much with excitement – as she was sure it should have done – but apprehension.
“You think so?”
Alexandra laughed. “Of course he does!” her smiled tensed and then faded. “Why would you doubt that, my dear?”
