When I got home my manservant told me that I had a visitor.
“The Earl of Summerville is here to see you, My Lady,” he said.
“The Earl of who?”
Of course he did not reply but took my cloak and turned away, while I stood and wondered what sort of man had been sent to meet me this time. I would not marry this one, no matter what the King said. I was supposed to consent to a marriage, that was the law, but what chance had I of refusing if the King ordered it? The punishment for disobeying would be great indeed.
While I stood I remembered the endless nights with Lord Connaught, my night with the King and the pain involved in both. I remembered my tenth birthday, and tears sprang to my eyes. I wanted desperately to turn and run from the house, but I had nowhere to go. I took a deep breath and steeled myself to walk into the chamber and meet this man, and discover what he wanted from me.
The man who quickly got to his feet when I appeared was not at all what I had been expecting. He was young for one thing, not much older than me, and pleasing to look upon with his dark hair and eyes.
He approached me and bowed over the hand I presented to him then he looked up quickly as I shrank away and immediately released me. He smiled then, and it was not a smile I had ever seen directed at me before, not a smile of lasciviousness nor of satisfaction, not even a smile of admiration. It was a smile of delighted pleasure, of real warmth.
“My Lady,” he said gently. “His Majesty has asked me to present myself to you as a possible escort to the celebrations for the Prince’s birth. I am told that you have no male relative to accompany you.”
“That is kind of you, My Lord,” I replied nervously.
“Not kind at all,” he insisted. “My wife is unable to attend and I am only too happy to assist a beautiful woman.”
I stiffened as the words ‘beautiful woman’ brought a cold scowl to my expression and I know that he noticed it.
“I trust it is nothing serious,” I said, “that is keeping Lady Summerville from attending herself.”
He studied me for a few moments before he replied.
“Not serious, no,” he said, “but likely incurable.”
I hardly knew what to say to that. How an illness could be incurable but not serious was beyond me, and I was not about to ask.
“Can I offer you some refreshments, My Lord?” I asked, changing the subject.
“That would be welcome,” he replied. “We can discuss the details for tomorrow night, assuming that my company will be acceptable to you.”
“Of course, My Lord,” I replied uncertainly. “I am grateful.”
There was really not much to discuss, as it happens, just times and when his carriage would arrive for me. It seemed that he wanted an excuse to stay, but for the first time in my life I did not feel threatened by his interest, nor did I feel the need to hurry the meeting.
He was young, handsome and married. Despite his odd statement about his wife, I imagined him to be quite happy with her and not in need of anything else. He could afford to give his time to talk to me.
The following hour was the first time in my life that a man, or anyone else for that matter apart from my mother, had actually talked to me. It seemed that this man was interested in me, me as a person not as a plaything or breeding vessel. Even when the King asked about me, I could tell that he was not really listening, that he just wanted to get on with the business of bedding me.
This Earl asked about my family, about my late husband, he asked about me, what things I liked to do. I could scarcely find the words to reply. I could hardly tell him about my late husband, since I barely even knew his name, nor about my tastes since I did not really have any.
“I spend a lot of time reading, My Lord,” I replied. “I am used to my own company.”
“Perhaps we can change your mind about that,” he said. “You are young. You should be enjoying life, not hiding away from it.”
“I have seen little to enjoy so far, My Lord,” I told him.
I wanted to say a lot more, to tell him that I did not feel safe outside the house, that each time I showed my face somebody thought they had the right to use me to their own ends, because I had no means of my own. It seemed to me that this man would understand, though I had no idea why I thought so. He was a complete stranger, after all.
The following evening he arrived in a huge black carriage bearing his family crest. I was very nervous, I have to admit. I had not set foot inside the palace since that disastrous night when I was ‘honoured’ to share the King’s bed and just being there brought up memories I would rather forget.
But my companion was as charming as he was handsome and we danced and ate and talked together like old friends. Not once was there a hint of anything untoward, no false flattery or unnecessary compliments which I did not trust, and I found to my surprise that I was actually enjoying myself. As usual there were many admiring glances that came my way, but there were an equal amount of women intensely interested in my companion.
It was the early hours of the morning when he delivered me back to my house and I was quite sad to see the evening end. Somehow he had instilled a confidence in me that I had never had before and I determined that things would change, that I would no longer listen at doors nor allow the servants to treat me like a child. Perhaps I could even choose one of them to be my special maid and companion as I had heard other ladies do.
“May I call on you again, My Lady?” The Earl was saying as he bid me goodnight by kissing my hand, an action that for the first time did not repel me.
I felt deflated by those words. Was this it then? Was he going to propose some sort of liaison like all the others, spoil the impression that I had formed about him?
“Why would you want to do that, My Lord?” I asked abruptly.
“Because I think you are in need of a friend,” he replied with a gentle smile. “And I would very much like to offer my services for that position.”
It was not what I expected to hear but I could not help but think there must be some ulterior motive behind his offer.
“Will Lady Summerville be accompanying you, My Lord?” I asked significantly, wanting him to know that I had not forgotten his married state.
He was thoughtful for a few moments before he finally replied with a heavy sigh.
“She will if you want her to,” he replied, but his expression had changed to one of concern. “I can bring her, but she will have nothing to say.”
“I do not understand you, Sir.”
“Suffice it to say,” he said, “that she does not enjoy my company.”
I spoke without thinking.
“I cannot believe that to be true,” I said then quickly regretted it. “Forgive me. That was forward and not my concern.”
“No matter.” He paused then and gazed at me thoughtfully for a moment. “If I do bring her here,” he went on, “would you think it an awful liberty if I asked you a favour?”
“What favour?”
“Would you talk to her? Try to find out why she is so afraid of me.” He looked a little embarrassed but he continued: “I have never hurt her; I never would. She will not tell me, and she will not tell my mother.”
“Your mother?” I replied, again without thinking. “I am not surprised. No woman would want to talk about intimate things to her husband’s mother.”
How I knew that I could not have said. I could only imagine if Lord Connaught had had a mother how it would have been to discuss his habits with her, or even the fact that he would not speak to me.
Lord Summerville seemed satisfied with my reply, but I could not help but feel sympathy for him. He seemed sad suddenly, as though mention of his wife had exposed him, kept him from hiding his hurt beneath his charm. I had been subjected to the most selfish and brutal behaviour by men and here was one of that gender actually concerned that his wife should be happy. I had no idea that such a creature existed.
“I shall take my leave and let you rest. Think abo
ut what I asked, please. I would consider it a great service and one more thing; please do not allow yourself to be hidden away.” He paused for a moment before he went on: “I realise that you do not wish to hear it, but you really are far too beautiful to hide yourself away.”
He left then while I watched him climb into his carriage and wave goodbye to me. I waved back, feeling somewhat disorientated. This had been a night of firsts for me. That was the first time anyone had told me I was beautiful without making me feel uncomfortable. The Earl had stated it as a fact, not in an admiring way but as he might have said the sky was blue or the grass was green. It was a strange feeling.
And I thought hard and long about his odd request. He had given me a lot in that one evening, far more than he could ever even suspect, and I felt I owed him something in return. Perhaps I could bring myself to speak to Lady Summerville, to befriend her and learn what troubled her. I had little experience of the normal world, but I could try to do it for him.
I was half afraid that my new found confidence might desert me after sleeping, but I still felt it when I awoke and I decided to do what I should have done months ago. I knew that one of my servants was robbing me, one of the senior ones at that who my late husband had placed in a position of trust. I determined to speak to her that morning, before my courage fled.
“I wish to know, Alice,” I said firmly when she brought my breakfast, “What you have done with my diamond bracelet.”
“My Lady? Have you lost another piece of jewellery?”
“I have not. Nor have I lost any others.” I found the anger then to carry on. I had been treated like a backward child long enough. “I know you have stolen from me. I do not want someone in my house whom I cannot trust with my possessions or my secrets.”
I thought she might at least lower her gaze, look ashamed, ask forgiveness. She would have had I been a man or a woman with more power. As it was, I was a helpless creature with no money and no male protection except an uncle who was not allowed to go to the same places as I, and who did not care for me anyway.
She shrugged and put down the tray.
“You mean like the handsome secret who brought his carriage for you last night, My Lady?” She asked impertinently.
“Lord Summerville is not a secret,” I replied angrily. “He was sent by the King himself to escort me to the ball.”
There was a definite smirk on her round face which made me angry enough to strike her, but I managed to keep myself under control.
“He may not be a secret yet,” she went on, “but give him time.”
No ‘My Lady’ that time. The woman was getting bolder and more insolent.
“What does that mean exactly,” I demanded.
“Let us just say that His Lordship has something of a reputation with the ladies,” she replied with that same smirk. “I mean, look at him! He would not give me a second glance but if he did, I would not be the one to refuse him.”
I was horrified, both by her implication and by her brazenness.
“You have a foul mind, mistress,” I replied quickly, “and I will thank you to remove it and yourself from my house and from my employment. You have one hour to get your things together and leave, and I mean your things, not mine!”
“You cannot do that,” she argued. “I am not employed by you. You do not pay my wages.”
“My late husband did not employ you to steal from me and accuse me of adultery.”
“Your late husband did not employ me at all! It is your uncle who pays for this house and the servants, your clothing and your sustenance.” She took a deep breath and looked satisfied that she had shocked me.
“My uncle?” I replied, shaking my head. “No. You are wrong. The Earl left this house and pension for me during my lifetime.”
“No, he left you nothing. He did not care if you starved on the streets. It is your uncle who bought the house at auction and keeps you.”
“Get out!” I screamed. “Get out now, and do not return!”
I must have screamed very loudly because at that moment Harry, one of the men servants opened the door without knocking and appeared with a look of real concern.
“My Lady,” he said quickly. “Is everything all right?”
“No, it is not. Can you make sure that this woman takes her belongings and leaves my house at once? Or do you have some objection to my making those decisions?”
“No, My Lady,” he replied quietly. “Whatever you say.”
“Good, because if you cannot do that, you may go with her and anyone else who feels they have the right to steal from me.”
He took her arm and guided her to the door but I stopped him before he left the room.
“Have the carriage brought round, please. I wish to visit my uncle.”
I could hardly believe what the woman had told me. How could my uncle have deceived me like this, and what was his motive? Why did he not want the credit for his good act? Did he suppose I might be too proud and want to move into his house instead? Just as if I could be too proud for anything.
He was busy writing when I was shown into his rooms. He looked up with an irritated frown, as though I had interrupted something much more interesting and important. I realised all at once that he still treated me as the poor little wretched child who first appeared on his doorstep seven years ago and my newly discovered confidence was not going to allow it to continue.
“I was told,” I began firmly, “that it is you who is responsible for my residence and for my upkeep, not the Earl of Connaught. I was told that he left me nothing, that the house was to be sold over my head. Is it true?”
He looked uncomfortable as though I had discovered a shameful secret.
“Yes, it is true,” he confirmed quietly.
“Why? And why did you not tell me?”
“Why?” He repeated. “Because it was my fault, that is why. He came here, the day he left you. He was very angry and he told me he was going to sell the house and your jewels and that I had better be prepared to take you back here."
"Oh, and you did not want that did you?"
"No, but that was not the only reason. It was my fault he had left you with nothing and I did not want you to know that. I was the one who deceived the Earl into marrying you. I knew his only reason for marrying was to procure an heir and I knew that you were likely to be barren, but I went ahead with the arrangement anyway. I was not likely to find another titled gentleman to wed you, was I? I was not likely to find anyone to wed you, knowing that you could never bear a child.” He paused and looked at me with a plea in his eyes. “I thought it was for the best at the time, but I was wrong. I thought he would be bound to fall in love with you, with your beauty and your modesty, and then the question of a son would be irrelevant. I did not understand how important those things are to the aristocracy.”
I was shaking my head, unable to find words with which to reply. I had been very angry and now I just felt deflated. Had he really believed it was for the best?
“I loved my wife, you see,” he went on. “It would not have mattered to me if the child had died, my baby son. It did matter that she died and I will never understand how a man can put his baby before his wife. I am not of the same world, Rachel. Forgive me.”
What else could I do but forgive him? Perhaps he did have the best intentions, even though I begged him not to force a marriage to anyone. If he loved his wife so much, I would have thought he might have more understanding, like my new friend who was so concerned for his wife’s happiness.
It was the following day that Lord Summerville returned with his Countess, a shy little thing who curtsied and kept her eyes cast down the whole time, even after we sat. This man had filled me with a lifetime’s worth of confidence in a few short hours and yet I did not know which one to pity more.
CHAPTER FIVE
So I had found friendship in the most unlikely place. The Earl was so charming and so good looking, women turned their heads as he passed, their eyes followed hi
m wherever he went. I do not believe I have ever seen that look in the eyes of a woman before, but his wife was strange, more like a child than a grown woman.
She sat and stared down at her own hands, not looking up for anything. I was the very last person to know how to engage someone in conversation, but I did my best. Every question I asked was met with a nod or a shake of the head and I looked over her head at the Earl in desperation. He merely shrugged, as though this scene was not new to him. The afternoon was dragging when His Lordship said he had an appointment.
“It will not take long, My Lady,” he said. “Perhaps my wife could stay here with you.” He turned to her then with a sigh, but also a gentle smile, like a kind uncle to a child. “Will that be acceptable, Rosemary?” He asked gently. “You would prefer to talk to Lady Rachel alone, would you not?”
She nodded but still did not raise her eyes, at least not until she heard her husband depart the house. Then she looked at me, and there was a discernible though silent sigh of relief. She was a lovely girl, dark auburn hair and beautiful green eyes, but she did not seem to ever smile. She was staring across the room at a porcelain doll I had rescued from my short lived childhood.
She got to her feet and walked over to the doll, then picked it up and held it against her as though it were a child. Then she came back to her seat, keeping the doll in her arms.
I asked her what sort of things she liked to do with herself and had to lean forward to hear her reply.
“I paint a little,” she said. “Not very well though.”
“I am sure your paintings are beautiful,” I tried to assure her, but she only shook her head.
“How long have you been married?” I persevered, wondering what I would say next once that question was answered.
“Two years I think, My Lady,” she said quietly.
Think? Did she not know?
“And children? Do you have children?”
Suddenly her eyes widened and she looked alarmed.
“I do not think I would like that,” she said quickly. “It is not nice.”
The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) Page 4
