by Diana Brown
My throat constricted. I could not have spoken even if I had wished to. He would dismiss me forever as a lamentable hoyden. Philomena would never behave in such a wanton fashion. I wanted to jump down, to run away from him. I wished the earth would swallow me up.
"Speak to me, Alexandra. Are you hurt? Have they harmed you?"
"No, I'm all right." My voice was muffled, but he seemed relieved to hear it.
"It was a foolish thing to do. I hope you realize that. There's no telling what may happen at times like these. Tempers are aroused; sometimes they lose all self-control. It's dangerous, certainly no place for a young girl. That fracas just now, for instance—anything could have happened to you." He paused before adding in a softer voice, "Are you quite sure you're all right, Alexandra? Did they do anything—apart from frightening you?"
"No."
"Are you quite sure?" He reined the horses. "Look at
me."
But I turned away. "What does it matter. You don't care anything for me. I only wanted . . ."
"It is quite wrong to say I don't care anything for what happens to you, quite wrong. But you only wanted what?"
"To hear you speak." I was crying, and that made me feel more gauche than ever.
"Alex, oh, Alex! Please don't! Here."
He handed me his handkerchief and I blew my nose, determined to say nothing more. That resolve was quite forgotten when he said softly, "If anything had happened to you, I could never have forgiven myself. Can't you understand that?"
I looked at him at last and managed a smile.
"That's better," he said and sighed in relief. "Now, what did you think of it, after all?"
"Oh, Darius, you were magnificent. Really you were! You had everyone applauding you. Even those who were against you in the beginning came around. You are a powerful persuader."
He laughed. "It was a Whig meeting, don't forget. It is often difficult, even treacherous, for those of contrary opinions to go against the majority. Besides, most of those present my family has known for years."
"But it wasn't that kind of applause, Darius, it was acclaim. They heard their views expressed, expressed forcefully, expressed beautifully. I was there amongst them; I could hear their comments. It was you they acclaimed—you, not just Lord Bladen's son."
"It does help, though, you must admit."
"Of course it helps, but really, their praise was for you."
I couldn't see his face clearly, only the outline against the moonlit sky, yet I knew he was pleased.
"But the speech, what did you think of it? Is there anything that should be left unsaid, anything I omitted?"
I was eminently pleased at having my opinion asked.
"It was a good speech, Darius. There is nothing you said that should be omitted. However, you might put in a word for Queen Caroline."
"Why on earth . . ." he began.
"What I mean is, I heard a lot of discussion about it tonight, and they were on her side. The fact that the Prince Regent—I mean the King, I keep forgetting he's King now because he doesn't behave like one—the fact that he's trying to divorce her simply does not sit well with many people."
"I have little sympathy with the topic—or with the woman," he replied coldly.
"Perhaps not, but nevertheless the Pr—the King is using all his power, and he certainly has the power, to defame her."
"He may be saying nothing but the truth. I can assure you she has not lived a pure life in Europe these past years; that I know from my own stay there. Her antics were spoken of everywhere."
"And the King—what of his conduct? Has that been any better?"
"But that's-"
"If you're going to say that's different, please don't. You were, weren't you?"
"I suppose I was." I could feel his eyes on my face. "But how do you know of such things?"
"I read a great deal—your father's newspapers and magazines as well as his books. Little secret has been made of the King's conduct. He has enjoyed himself and he hasn't cared who knew of it until now, when he wishes to dispose of his wife for doing much the same thing."
"You are awfully young to speak with such disillusionment. At your age I thought girls were still imagining princes in shining armour."
"Perhaps I still do," I said quietly, but I doubt he heard, for he was reflecting on the matter I had raised.
"I am loath to raise the issue, but it is true that the King's ministers are promoting the divorce, and it is a matter of great embarrassment to them."
"Wiltshiremen—moonrakers—may be independent, yet they oppose infidelity, marital infidelity." I sounded like a prude, a hypocrite, too, I thought, feeling as I did for one married to another.
"That, I can assure you, is not the case in London."
"You support the King in this matter, then?"
"I support neither of them. I find them ideally suited to one another. They are both thoroughly disagreeable, disreputable, disgusting people, entirely deserving of one another." He paused before adding slowly, "But I cannot help but wonder whether the course of history might not have been altered if each had found different mates."
"I thought perhaps you supported the King on the assumption that the woman is always in the wrong. You were about to say it was different for a man before."
"I was, perhaps, yet if the woman is not always in the wrong, that does not mean that she is not sometimes totally in the wrong." He was silent momentarily, and then he laughed. "Thank goodness you have the sagacity to save frogs that might, after all, prove to be Lycean shepherds or even princes in disguise, and the prescience to vomit at weddings, which, as in the case you pointed out this evening, do not always signify happiness ever after."
The horses had grown restive at standing so long, and he set them to a walk and then a trot. We would soon be home, yet I wanted the evening never to end. Even as I thought this, the gates of my home loomed up before us.
"Do leave me here, Darius; don't come any further."
"But I want to see you safely back. How on earth did you get out of the house dressed like that?"
"I climbed down the tree outside my window."
"Then I must help you climb back up."
"No, please don't," I insisted. "I know the way. I have used it often. It's almost as good as a staircase by this time with all the footholds I have made in the trunk. Besides, the Ramseys are dining with us. Two people are more likely to attract attention than one."
"Are you sure you are quite all right after all that happened?"
"I am, except . . ."
"Except what?"
"Except I wonder if you are still annoyed with me for coming."
"Of course I'm not. I wasn't annoyed with you at all, but very concerned for your safety. In truth, I am thoroughly flattered. I'm sure that no one has ever gone to such lengths just to hear me speak."
"I'm glad. I would never want to do anything to incur your displeasure."
I was turning to go when I remembered something he had said. "Darius, can girls be moonrakers too?"
"Only if they're born and bred in Wiltshire," he replied seriously. "On that score you certainly qualify."
He took both my hands in his, and instinctively I stepped towards him.
"Thank you for coming tonight, little moonraker." He bent down and kissed me, swiftly, lightly. "Promise me, though, you won't do such a thing again."
His kiss drove everything from my mind. I could only nod, afraid to speak, afraid of what was in my heart. Breaking from him, I ran and did not look back until I reached the house. He was still at the gate, still watching me. I waved, and he waved back before turning towards Linbury.
As I climbed my plane tree, I considered it unlikely that Philomena had ever done anything so unladylike, but somehow it no longer mattered. Yet when I regained my room I realized it was the second time that evening that I had compared myself to Darius's wife.
VI
"It was suggested to me las
t night that a word in favour of Queen Caroline might be profitable," I heard Darius say to his father the next morning. "You know the government is very vulnerable over the issue of the King's divorce, and Harrington has supported him in other matters. If I come out for the Queen, he'll be forced to take the King's side, whether he favours it or not."
Lord Bladen eyed his son dubiously. "That awful woman. Do you think it wise? She's been in and out of so many beds all over Europe, and she's made no secret of her doings with Bergami or Pergami or whatever his name is, that Italian lover of hers, sleeping out on the deck and—" he broke off, looking in my direction, "I don't know. Did Sinclair suggest it?"
"No, it wasn't Sinclair. The suggestion came from another moonraker at last night's meeting." Darius cast a conspiratorial smile at me. I had never felt so proud. It was all I could do not to openly acknowledge it. "Brougham, you know, is undertaking the Queen's defense. I know he's not exactly a party stalwart, but he's a brilliant fellow, and it's my opinion he's going to win."
"I'm not sure he will. You know what they say—if Brougham knew a little of the law he'd know every-thing."
"He's a party radical, I know, and he's got enemies, but I'm willing to wager he'll give a good account of himself at the trial."
"Well, if you feel strongly for it, try it and see what response you get."
The first response that I heard was from Darius's opponent, Mr. Harrington, when he visited father later in the week.
"That young fool's come out for the Queen." He stood, fidgeting irascibly, moving from one foot to the other, with his back to the fire in our drawing room, his profusion of chins positively shaking with anger. "Now I'm going to be forced into the King's corner, when I would just as soon have avoided the issue altogether. The whole thing's an embarrassment, but some damn fool is bound to raise it. If it's not one of our own, he'll send one of his Whigs to start haranguing me. I've got them spotted, though. I get them flung out whenever I can."
"But surely you send hecklers to his meetings," father interposed.
"Of course I do, but that puppy is making inroads. The rascals he's sending are remarkably well-informed. They're asking some damned embarrassing questions." He looked towards the sofa, where Cassy and I sat at our needlework. "Excuse me, young ladies. I fear that politics has a way of making a gentleman forget his manners on occasion."
I smiled at him. "I quite understand, Mr. Harrington. Think nothing of it."
"It's a dirty business, best left to men." He bowed to us and turned back to father, who sat surveying his party's hope with a critical eye.
"I wish I could find something detrimental about him to spread abroad, but he seems clean as a new penny. You don't know anything, do you?" Mr. Harrington looked hopefully at father. "He is your neighbour."
"And that's just why I couldn't tell you if I did know anything. I'll support the Tories right down the line—you know how earnestly I want you to hold your seat—but I have to live with the Bladens, much as I dislike their politics, and I wouldn't want any stories about them laid at my door. Alexandra's been at Charteris a good deal, and Thomas was up at Oxford with Wentworth."
Mr. Harrington looked over at me pensively before crossing the room to examine my embroidery. "You work a very fine stitch, Miss Alexandra. Next time I come to visit your father, I must bring my son, Arthur, with me. You are much of an age and should get along exceedingly well now. He is as much an admirer of beauty as is his father."
I flushed at the heavy compliment and bent my head over my work; not before noticing father's awakened interest, however. Father was irked because George Ramsey had not yet come forth with an offer for Eugenia; I feared he saw in Mr. Harrington's remark a chance for another daughter, and I wanted none of that. I rose abruptly and made my excuses, saying I had to walk down to the village.
"I myself was just about to depart," Mr. Harrington proclaimed. "Allow me to accompany you as far as the gate." Much though I would, I could scarcely refuse his offer.
"So you are at Charteris a great deal, your father says," he began as we set off together. "You must know the family well."
I nodded and commented quickly on the fine weather we were having, but he was not to be put off.
"And Mr. Darius Wentworth, undoubtedly you see a great deal of him?" The question lingered on his protruding lips as though he savoured the words in anticipation of a fortuitous reply. What would he say, I wondered, if I told him I was desperately in love with his opponent, that I had attended a political rally, that he had brought me home, that he had kissed me. What political brouhaha would he make of that?
"I see him when he is there, but he comes only occasionally. He has lived in London since his marriage."
"Ah, yes. He is fortunate indeed, a lovely lady, quite the grande dame of London society, I understand—but how does the beautiful Mrs. Wentworth take to the idea of her husband's entry into the political arena?"
If Mr. Harrington thought to ingratiate himself with me for whatever reason, he could not have chosen a less desirable topic. "I really could not say. Mrs. Wentworth remains in London. She expects a child in the spring."
"Oh, I hadn't realized that." Mr. Harrington's face took on a deeper gloom, perhaps at the thought of the attraction that that blessing of his opponent's union might have upon Wiltshire's voting population, which was by no means universal since that privilege was confined to freeholders with an annual land revenue of at least forty shillings. "No doubt that gives Mr. Darius Wentworth much cause for jubilation."
"I am quite sure it does, but he says little. A first child can be a matter of some concern."
"To be sure; yet it will secure the title for another generation."
"Only if the child is a boy," I replied with some asperity.
"Quite naturally. Male heirs are essential. My own son, Arthur, is a source of continuing pride. He will, I know, be eager to solicit a dance with you at the election ball, and I hope you will so honour him."
"As I am not yet out, I doubt that I shall be there." My regret was sincere, though not for the reason Mr. Harrington presumed, for to attend Linbury's election ball would have provided an opportunity to dance with Darius.
"Then allow me to speak to your father on the matter, Miss Alexandra, for the occasion will not be a success without your lively smile." His obtrusive compliments, coupled as they were with his assessing look, were not at all to my liking. When I made no reply, he went on, "And how do you find Mr. Darius Wentworth?"
"Quite well."
"Does he have any—any, how shall I put it—any idiosyncrasies?"
"He took a first in the Greats at Oxford," I replied, deliberately misunderstanding him.
"No, no. I mean, have you observed any oddities about him?"
"Oddities?" I thought of Darius, of the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, those grey, expressive eyes, of the twitch of his mouth just when he was about to laugh, of the way he ran his hand through his hair when he wished to emphasize a point, of his manner of bending over his paper when writing as though ideas were coming so fast upon him he was afraid of losing them, of his habit of clasping his hands behind his back when walking, of—of—there were a million things I thought of when I thought of Darius.
"No oddities, exactly, although . . ."
"Although what?" Mr. Harrington prompted a trifle too hastily.
"Although he does tend to strive too hard when he means to attain something. He leaves no stone unturned, such as now, he studies so hard that I know it concerns his mother—"
Mr. Harrington's impatient snort did not allow me to complete my sentence. "Yes, yes, that is all very well. But I mean does he have any oddities, are there any peccadilloes of which you are aware? His affections, for instance, might they ever—ever—you know what I mean."
"You are possibly thinking about Belinda. I must say that she does rather lead him by the nose. It causes some comment."
"Belinda, yes, yes," Mr. Harrington ur
ged.
"He wants her to be there, and she is fickle. She runs around so much and is never willing to simply wait. She must be off after every attraction. She is not faithful, I fear."
"And why should she be there simply when he chooses?"
"That is exactly what she thinks, but I can assure you it annoys him. Is that the sort of oddity you wished to know?"
"Yes, yes. And where does this Belinda live?"
"Why, at Charteris, of course."
"At Charteris! Under his own roof!"
"Well, not exactly under his own roof. She lives in the stables."
"In the stables." Mr. Harrington's voice grew faint.
"Why yes, that is where all of the hunting dogs are kept," I replied evenly, watching the indignation rise in his eyes. "Belinda is his own dog, but she is always after rabbits when she should—"
"I must confess it surprises me that your father allows you to spend so much of your time in a Whig household," Mr. Harrington snorted.
"It is perhaps not important, since I have no vote—" Again he interrupted me in annoyance at my stupidity. "Members of the fair sex could never be publicly involved in such business. The government of the country must always be left in the hands of gentlemen. I need hardly point out to you that the hands of the ladies are fully occupied with government of the home." And, as if to make up for his sharpness, he patted my arm in a not entirely paternal manner. "But that does not mean that they cannot—indeed they should—always support their menfolk. For that reason your father's long association with the Tory party must make you a Tory in spirit, if not in fact. Therefore, since you have ready access to Charteris, should you hear of anything concerning Mr. Darius Wentworth, any—how should I put it—any misdoings, any imprudence, any inconstancy—and I do not refer to hunting dogs . . ."
I put my hand to my lips to smother a laugh which threatened to overcome me, a gesture which he took for one of agitation.
"I know, I know, it may seem distressing to a young lady, especially one of your tender years and family background, but as you get older you will realize that regrettable things do sometimes occur. Gentlemen do not always act as they should. Sometimes the vows of marriage are set aside, there are—eh— infidelities, that sort of thing."
