The Rebellious Twin

by Shirley Kennedy

  “But I — “

  “It would appear there’s nothing more to say,” he said coldly, backing Sham away. “You will let me know any news of Sara Sophia despite our differences?”

  “Of course,” she replied, matching his coldness with her own.

  “Then good day, m’lady.” Stormont touched the reins to Sham and start away.

  With rising dismay Clarinda watched the man she loved urge Sham to a trot and disappear down the path toward Hollyridge. But I have not gone to visit Lady Lynbury for ages — long before Lord Stormont arrived. In a state of complete bewilderment she wondered how Lady Lynbury could have told such a lie. But the servants, too? They couldn’t all be lying. Perhaps they had just thought they had seen her. Or perhaps … ?

  There is something about the necklace…

  She recalled the day she had discovered hers and Rissa’s necklaces had been switched. Rissa had denied all knowledge of how it could have happened, other than it must have been a servant who had switched them. Clarinda had thought it strange at the time, but there was nothing more she could do. Suddenly the undeniable and dreadful fact struck her hard. Of course! There was only one way those necklaces could have been swapped. It was…

  Far down the path she saw clouds of dust fill the still morning air as a horse’s great hooves pounded against the earth. Stormont hove into view, approaching fast as light. When he reached her, he reined so hard Sham snorted, reared, pawed at the sky. In a twinkling, Stormont slid off. With powerful strides he approached her, a lethal calmness in his eyes.

  “It was Rissa,” he said.

  “I can’t believe it, yet who else could have done this but my own sister?” She looked down at him from atop Dublin, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Why didn’t you tell me? If only I had known!”

  “Because I was hurt. Because I was a fool.” Stormont leaned his palms against Dublin, one on either side of Clarinda as she sat upon her side saddle. He looked up at her, his face twisted with emotion. “This had to be deliberate. What a hellish thing for her to do.”

  “What exactly did she say?” asked Clarinda. She had to know.

  “I am loath to repeat it.”

  “Please do.”

  He smiled wryly. “She said, ‘I could never love a man like Lord Stormont. How I shall dread sharing his bed. He’s — ’”

  “But that’s not true!” she blurted, “why, I have often thought — ” Realizing what she’d just said, she felt herself turning red. “Just wait until I confront Rissa!”

  “Hush!” Stormont commanded. “We shall discuss Rissa later, but now…”

  With a joyous hoot, he wrapped his hard-muscled arms around her knees and drew her from the saddle, held her high, and whirled her around, not placing her on the ground. “So you’ve thought of going to bed with me,” he said lightly, gazing up at her.

  “Young ladies do not discuss such subjects,” she answered primly, but with a smile.

  “They don’t?” For a moment he buried his head in her skirt. She felt him tremble as he let her slide down an inch or two, close as hand in glove against him. Scandalously close. Mama would definitely not approve. His compelling eyes riveted up at her again, then glanced at Dublin, who was busy nibbling grass from the side of the path. “What do you think, Dublin?” he called. “Does the young lady need to be kissed again? Or — ” still holding her high, he joyously swung her clear around again ” — perhaps your mistress prefers to get back to embroidering her sampler, in which case, I shall not kiss her at all, especially if she’s thinking of the hero. What was his name? Hmm, I seem to have forgotten it.”

  Laughing, she gripped his shoulders. “Dublin,” she called, “he knows full well ‘twas Jeffrey.” She tried to think clearly, but it was difficult, what with Robert’s arms wrapping even tighter around her legs and his masculine scent of leather mixed with honey water wafting up at her. “But about Rissa — “

  “Forget Rissa. You and I have some making up to do.”

  “Put me down.”

  “In good time.”

  He allowed her to slide down his chest a trifle more, then tightened his grasp again. How solid and sinewy his body felt! I should not be doing this, she thought. Again, she felt her face flush. “We really shouldn’t,” she said, thinking how weak that sounded. She made a feeble attempt to wrench away, but stopped immediately, knowing she had no wish to escape his embrace.

  “We really should,” he said. Still holding tight, he let her slide all the way to the ground, with infinite slowness, planting kisses as he went, at her waist — her midriff — between her breasts — the hollow of her neck, her hair. When they were exactly eye level, he whispered, “Or would you really rather go home and embroider your sampler?”

  “No.” Her arms slid around his neck.

  He regarded her with burning intensity. “Or would you rather think about Jeffrey?”

  “No!”

  “Well, then.” His lips feather-touched hers with tantalizing persuasion, as if she needed any! A torrent of emotions flowed through her as he pressed his mouth hard to hers. He cared! He wanted her! The dismal, bleak winter months were gone, and with them the terrible hurt she’d felt that he had rejected her. Her emotions whirled and skidded with the wonderful shock of it all.

  Suddenly he broke off the kiss and put her away.

  “Why are you stopping?” she asked.

  “Because I’ll take you right here if we don’t stop,” he said through ragged breathing. He walked to Sham, who though not tethered had not wandered away. “Good boy,” he said, and patted the horse’s rump, quietly, for some moments, as if he were collecting his thoughts. When he looked back at Clarinda, he was in control again. “We have much to discuss.”

  She nodded. “There’s Rissa.”

  He bit his lip, in deep thought. “She’s a danger to you.”

  “Oh, I hardly think — “

  “She’s a danger,” he said in a voice that did not invite argument.

  She spread her palms. “But she’s my sister. I hardly know whether to confront her or not.”

  “Let’s think on it a few days, shall we?” Leading his horse, Stormont came back to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Meet me tomorrow at Hollyridge — the stables, early morning. I have things to discuss with you that have nothing to do with Rissa.” Gently he ran his hand across her cheek, through her hair until a shuddering sigh of wanting ran through him and he pulled his hand away. “Oh, God, you’re beautiful,” he said, almost in a moan, “and I — I — ” He regarded the sky, then backed away and mounted Sham. “Until tomorrow,” he said brusquely and rode away.

  Chapter 13

  What had happened to Clarinda?

  All day, Rissa’s suspicions grew. Clarinda had bounced in from her morning ride, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. During the day, the house rang with her infectious laughter, a sound no one had heard for months. She was smiling a lot, a far cry from the melancholy expression she had worn of late.

  Was it Stormont? Was Clarinda seeing him again? But that would be impossible, Rissa decided. Surely word of her visit to Lady Lynbury had long since reached Stormont’s ears. Still…

  Stormont is mine, Rissa thought with mounting indignation. She had fallen deeply in love with him. She wanted him and she would have him. Nobody on this earth would stand in her way, most especially her twin sister, who had always gotten the best of everything all their lives, but not this time. By all that was holy, Clarinda would not win Stormont, the ultimate prize.

  But first I must find out if what I suspect is true.

  *

  Early the next morning, in a light-hearted mood, Clarinda walked the distance from Graystone Hall to Hollyridge Manor. Robert was there when she arrived. He was saddling Sham. Donegal was already saddled. Pitney was there, too, along with a stable boy, so when Stormont gave her a formal bow and said, “Good morning, m’lady,” in a cool but courteous voice, she knew his formality was for the benefit of the stable h
ands.

  Continuing in the same vein, Stormont asked, “Would you care to accompany me today? I’m headed down the river path.”

  “I shouldn’t mind,” she said, as offhanded as he.

  They rode slowly, chatting of this and that, she, sedately correct on her side saddle, until they reached the very log beside the path where once he had kissed her. Stormont brought Sham to a halt. “You might remember this spot.” His mouth quirked with humor.

  “Somebody kissed me here,” she replied mischievously, “but I can’t remember who.”

  She expected him to laugh, but instead, with a look of determination on his face, he swung off Sham, gently lifted her down from her saddle and set her on the ground as if she were a delicate porcelain figurine.

  “You think I cannot dismount by myself?” she protested with a laugh. “I am not a fragile flower.”

  “We must talk,” he said, ignoring her protestations.

  He seemed so intent on his purpose that she said no more and allowed herself to be led to the log they had sat on before. Immediately he turned to face her, took her hand and cradled it in his own. “I love you, Clarinda,” he began. Joy shot through her. She tried to speak, but he continued, “No, don’t say anything more, not yet. “From the day we met — remember when you flew off your horse? I lost my heart when I looked at you, lying on the ground, the breath knocked out of you, your skirt — ” his eyes twinkled with remembrance ” — bunched up around those shapely limbs of yours. I never knew the meaning of the word smitten until that day. God knows, I tried to fight this attraction I have for you — ” he smiled ruefully ” — but I could not. I dream of you constantly.” He bit his lip and looked away, shaking his head in disbelief. “I never thought a woman could do this to me.” He turned back to look at her, a gleam of purpose in his eye, took both her hands and pressed them to his chest. “My dear Lady Clarinda, I am madly, passionately in love with you.” He had said the words lightly, but she could hear the dead seriousness that lay beneath. “I had vowed not to marry until I was forty, but that was before I knew of your existence. Will you marry me? I’m warning you, if you don’t, I am likely to pine away like Lucius.” He laughed, but she knew he meant his words.

  “I love you too,” she said. Words to describe her love welled within her, but when she tried to speak again, he silenced her. “No, don’t say anything. I don’t want your answer now. You must think on it. Much is involved here.” Stormont frowned. “I am aware of your current situation with your family. And then there’s Rissa.”

  “Rissa will not be pleased,” she said, thinking that was indeed an understatement.

  “I fear Rissa has misinterpreted my attentions to her, which, I can assure you, have been merely friendly at best. Her visit to Lady Lynbury, impersonating you, is appalling. We must make sure she won’t do us any further mischief, if mischief is the word.” Stormont gazed deep into her eyes. She saw love there, and compassion, and longing. “Think about it tonight. Tomorrow I shall pay you a proper visit and receive my answer.”

  “Of course.” And my answer will be yes, she wanted to cry, but if he wanted her to wait, she would. After all this time, where was the harm in waiting one more day?

  *

  Walking home, Clarinda felt a sense of wonderment at the turn her life was taking. She had been lost in darkness and despair for so long that the very idea she could be happy again was difficult to grasp. Stormont loved her! She felt like dancing down the path. He was worried about her family problems, but, really, they were minuscule. Papa would go along with whatever Mama said. Mama, of course, would protest that Rissa had some claim on Stormont, but in the end she would approve, once she knew whom Robert really loved. As for Rissa…

  Clarinda had told Stormont, “I don’t think Rissa will be a problem anymore.” She believed what she said. After all, what more harm could Rissa do?

  *

  Seething with a mixture of hurt, resentment, and jealousy, Rissa retreated to her bed chamber the moment she returned from her walk along the river path. It had been easy to follow Clarinda, and step out of sight when Clarinda and Stormont dismounted at the very same spot where they had embraced before. A handy spot for spying, Rissa thought with grim irony. She had managed to keep herself well hidden, yet close enough to hear each one of Lord Stormont’s perfidious words.

  She had been shocked beyond all measure. Robert had called at Graystone Hall several times, surely just to see her. He had not, in fact, shown the least regret that Clarinda had pleaded a headache and not come down to join them. What Rissa couldn’t understand was, how could he possibly love a girl like Clarinda? She was stubborn and rebellious. She was outspoken and freely expressed her own opinions. Men deplored such traits in a woman, which was why she, Rissa, had gone to such lengths to demonstrate her skills in music, water colors, and embroidery. Surely Stormont must have observed how she excelled at light conversation and the pouring of tea. Why would he not think she would make the perfect wife? She, who aside from being beautiful, was cheerful and obedient, with naught but frivolous thoughts in her head?

  He doesn’t love Clarinda, he only thinks he does, Rissa concluded. Given a little time, she was sure she could change his mind, but she had only until tomorrow when Stormont came to call. Clarinda would surely say yes, and when she did, he would go directly to Papa and ask for her hand. There could be no going back after that, they’d be good as married. Rissa pictured herself standing next to Clarinda at the wedding. Oh, the humiliation! How could she smile and act happy for her sister when underneath she would know that Clarinda had won again, just as she had done all their lives?

  Rissa raised a clenched fist and fervently vowed, “She won’t win, not this time!” There must still be a way to win Stormont. She must think of it and act quickly.

  Rissa flung herself on her bed and for a long time stared at the ceiling, hands behind her head. She considered countless schemes, discarding them all, until at last — ah! why had she not thought of this before? She had found the perfect plan.

  *

  Clarinda was in her bed chamber, staring out the window when Rissa knocked and entered. “Yes, Rissa?” she asked coolly. Despite her euphoria, she had not forgotten her sister’s trickery.

  “Come sit down,” Rissa replied, ignoring her sister’s hostility. “I must talk to you.”

  After Clarinda settled on the edge of the bed, Rissa on the settee, Rissa said, “I have a proposition for you.”

  “What kind of proposition?” Clarinda asked, full of suspicion.

  Rissa settled back, relaxed and sure of herself. “You’ve known Sara Sophia all your life, have you not?”

  “Of course. You know that.”

  “And you love Sara Sophia, don’t you, and consider her your dearest friend?”

  A lot more so than you, Clarinda thought. “Yes, she is my dearest friend, but what is this about?”

  Rissa peered at her thoughtfully. “I simply wanted to make sure that Sara Sophia means a great deal to you. Do you feel bad, now that she’s gone to work as a governess?”

  “Bad is hardly the word. Sara Sophia was happy and content with her life at Hollyridge. Now she’s working as a governess in a place where they treat her little better than a servant. Remember how she loved horses? Now they won’t even let her ride. Then, too, she had developed a great fondness for Lord Wentridge, and he for her. It’s hopeless, of course. My heart aches every time I think about what’s happened to her, but what can I do?”

  “There’s something you can do,” Rissa answered with a triumphant little smile, “something so magnificent, so totally astounding and incredible, that Sara Sophia’s life will be changed forever.”

  “But what?” cried Clarinda, astounded at Rissa’s words. “Tell me!”

  “All in good time.” As if trying to put her thoughts together, Rissa stood up and started pacing the floor. Nervously she pursed her lips and pressed her hands together as if in prayer, until finally she stopped and sai
d, “Listen to me,” and sat next to Clarinda on the bed. “Sara Sophia is not what she seems. I have written proof.”

  “Of what?” Clarinda was completely bewildered.

  “Sara Sophia is a countess, and wealthy besides. It’s a long story, but it’s true.”

  “But I don’t understand. How would you know — ?”

  “I just know,” Rissa answered petulantly, “and I can prove it, but I must ask you something first.”

  Clarinda fought to stay calm, not easy with this shocking news concerning her friend. “Then get on with it,” she demanded, none too politely.

  In characteristic fashion, Rissa made a little moue. “No need to get testy. Let’s say, for instance, you have a friend whom you have known all your life and love dearly, and this friend has fallen on bad times and needs help.”

  “All right, let’s say that.” Lord give me patience, Clarinda prayed silently.

  Rissa went on, “And let’s say, for instance, there is a certain man you have fallen in love with.” Rissa’s voice hardened. “Mind, he’s not just any man, he’s titled, rich, handsome and personable.” The inharmonious change in Rissa’s voice chilled Clarinda’s heart. She wondered what her twin could possibly be up to. Whatever it was, it boded ill. “And let’s say,” Rissa continued, “just for instance, that this man you have fallen in love with has asked you to marry him.”

  She knows, Clarinda thought with fearful clarity. She felt a shock run through her. There was only one way Rissa could know of Stormont’s proposal — she must have spied on them. Appalled, she slid from the bed and glared, hands on hips, at her sister. “You were on the path this morning, weren’t you? What a despicable thing to do. How low! Where were you — hiding behind a bush?”

  Rissa gave a disdainful shrug. “What if I was? Do you want to help Sara Sophia or not?”

  “Of course I want to help, but — ” Clarinda silenced herself and sank back down on the bed. However incensed she might feel about Rissa’s blatant spying, she realized Rissa had the upper hand. “Do go on,” she said, her voice tight.