The Forgotten Marriage

by Ellen Fitzgerald

  It seemed to her that Lucian, in fact, had been embarrassed by it, even though he had dismissed it as a prank. Did he know more about it than he had admitted? Had he, in effect, been trying to frighten her away and had he later repented that childish attempt? She wished that she did not still harbor these suspicions but they did seem an eminently reasonable explanation for the so-called unexplainable.

  “Milady.”

  Alicia started. She had been so deep in thought that she had actually forgotten Effie’s presence. The girl had come with her to search through the old trunks in the hopes of finding a bolt of the green brocade that had been used to cover the chairs in the drawing room. The fabric on two of these was sadly wom, but it was beautiful and, in addition to matching the sofa, it blended with walls of a mellow gold, a combination chosen by Lucian’s mother shortly after her marriage.

  Had every bride redecorated? Alicia wondered. She had not discussed the subject with Lucian. She had limited herself to a tentative suggestion concerning the two chairs and he had mentioned the attic. He had spoken disinterestedly, strengthening her suspicions that he cared little about surroundings not shared by the woman he had longed to call wife. With a sigh, she turned to Effie. “We will start with this one.” She pointed to a huge, steel-banded, nail-studded trunk in the comer. Producing a ring of trunk keys given her by the housekeeper, she slipped off several, adding, “You try these here, and I’ll try that trunk over there.”

  “Yes, milady,” Effie spoke with the suppressed excitement of an explorer on the edge of a new continent. “They are ever so big,” she breathed, and sneezed. “It be dusty up ’ere. Jacob says as ’ow no one’s been ’ere for ever so long.”

  Alicia concealed a smile. Effie had been quoting Jacob quite often these days. She said, “And does he also say ’tis haunted?”

  “No, milady ... not ’ere, but ’e’s sure that the cellars are.”

  “I hope that they will be setting traps for those ‘ghosts.’ ” Alicia laughed.

  “Traps, milady?”

  “With cheese,” Alicia amplified. She had been trying various keys in the lock of the trunk, and finding one that fitted, she turned it and found to her surprise that the lid would not budge. She must have locked it. Turning the key again, she pushed at the lid and it opened easily. In that same moment, Effie said, “I declare to goodness, milady, this 'ere trunk is open.”

  “And mine also.” Alicia shook her head. “Gracious, I wonder who was so careless.”

  “It must’ve been the last ’ousekeeper,” Effie said staunchly.

  Alicia smiled. “You like Mrs. Gibbs, Well, so do I. We’ll not mention the oversight. But I wonder what we’ll find?”

  They found gowns carelessly packed or, rather, piled haphazardly in the trunks along with shoes and even bonnets, a few badly crushed. Alicia, shaking her head over the lack of order, suddenly remembered Lucian’s disparaging reference to his father’s involvement with Madame Violetta. He had had room in his heart for two loves, or had it been only one: the opera dancer he had not been able to marry? And did his son have something in common with him? He was presently tied to a woman he had married and in love with a woman he could not marry. She tried to shrug that most unwelcome comparison away, but if anything were to happen to her, would her garments be unceremoniously tossed into an attic trunk? No, that was most unlikely. Barbara would probably bum them!

  “Oooh, milady, look ’ere,” Effie cried.

  Alicia turned and found Effie holding up a gown with wide

  skirts with matching paniers. It was fashioned from pale-pink silk and embroidered with tiny roses. Fine lace adorned sleeves that must have ended at the elbow. More lace edged the paniers and the skirt. The neck was square-cut and also edged with a narrow border of lace. “Oh, that is beautiful,” Alicia exclaimed. “And it must be at least thirty-seven or -eight years old.”

  “Aye, ’tis. I’ve seen pictures o’ ladies dressed like this,” Effie said. “An’ they ’ad their ’air dressed ’igh’n tricked out wi’ ’orse’air an’ they slept on wooden blocks wi’ grooves in ’em for their necks’n never took down their ’eaddresses till the rats nested in ’em.”

  Alicia laughed. “I think that is a bit of an exaggeration,

  Effie.”

  “No, ’tis the God’s truth.” Effie looked toward the ceiling. “My ma told me about it. She were a ladies’ maid, too.”

  “It seems to me that my father once said that his mother wore such a headdress and topped it with a ship in full sail.” Alicia moved to Effie’s side. “Are there any more such garments in there?”

  Effie bent down and rummaged through the trunk. “Oooh, ’ere's one.” She pulled out a gown of shimmering gold brocade. Similar in cut to the pink one, its neck and the edge of the skirt were trimmed with gold lace.

  “Ah, this is exquisite,” Alicia said, taking it from her and holding it up. “It does not look as if it has been worn very often either.”

  “It don’t, an’ ’tis your color, milady.”

  Alicia laughed. “But ’tis not precisely my style.”

  “There’s a lot of material in that skirt . . . enough for two gowns,” Effie persisted.

  “We are not here to dress me; we’re to garb the chairs, remember? And do you see anything that looks like a bolt or even a length of green brocade in there. I have found only odds and ends in mine.”

  “I will look again, milady.” Effie bent over the trunk, thrusting both hands inside. “Oooooh,” she exclaimed again, and held up two necklaces. One was gold set with stones that resembled diamonds and a pink jewel Alicia had never seen before. The other was a gold filigree with delicate sapphire and ruby drops framed in diamonds. “Ain’t they beautiful, milady?” She handed them to Alicia.

  “They are indeed!” Alicia looked at them in surprise. “They look almost real, but of course they could not be, else they’d not be tossed in here. They are paste, but they are certainly cleverly done. ’Twould be hard to tell them from the genuine, they must be of French design.” Moving closer to the windows, she held them up. “Yes, I am sure they are French. They have a genius for fashioning ornaments of paste.” Alicia added musingly, “I think I might take these . . . I’ve not many jewels.”

  “You must, milady,” Effie urged. She added with a frown, “ ’Tis a great pity ’is Lordship 'asn’t all 'is senses. ’E ought to be loadin’ you wi’ jewels’n would if he knew where ’e was at.”

  “Effie, dear,” Alicia protested, “we must not discuss that.”

  “Yer pardon, milady,” Effie said, but added mutinously, “but it be a great shame ’n it’s lucky for ’im, ’e ain’t wed to ’er . . . not from wot I’ve ’eard about ’er.”

  Alicia regarded her in some surprise. “What you have heard about whom?” she could not keep herself from demanding.

  “Er, wot was goin’ to marry ’is Lordship. Er, girl Jane wot I met when she come to yer ’otel told me on the sly as ’ow ’er mistress ’ad dismissed ’is Lordship outa ‘and the minute Pryde cast an eye in ’er direction. ’Is Lordship were that angry’n called ’er a female Judas ’e did’n said as ’ow she’d betrayed ’im’n sold ’erself to the ’ighest bidder’n that ’e never wanted to look on ’er face again!”

  “Oh, God!” Alicia gasped.”Is this the truth, then, Effie?”

  “As I be standin’ ’ere, it is, milady. Jane ’eard ’em an’ said as ’ow ’er mistress started snivilin’ an’ said ’e were cruel’n ’eartless’n ’e slammed out wi’out another word. ’Twasn’t nobody more surprised’n Jane when ’e sent for ’er mistress after ’e come back from the wars—but o’ course ’e were all wrong in ’is ’ead an’ she gave Jane two crowns so’s she wouldn’t tell nobody nothin’.”

  “Effie,” Alicia exclaimed, “why did you not let me know this before?”

  “I—I gave my promise to Jane that I wouldn’t breathe a word o’ it, cross my ’eart’n point to ’eaven, an’ ’sides ’e stayed wi’ you, but tha
t were the way o’ it’n I’m not sorry I told, so there!” Effie spoke defiantly and inadvertently glanced upward, almost as if she were anticipating heavenly punishment.

  “Oh, Effie,” Alicia cried joyfully, “he did want to marry me—I mean in Brussels!”

  “You couldn’t be a-doubtin’ that, milady.”

  “ ’Tis difficult not to have doubts now,” Alicia sighed. “Once ’e remembers—” Effie began.

  “There’s no saying that he ever will.”

  “An’ there’s no sayin’ that ’e won’t,” Effie returned stubbornly. “An’ now that I let the cat outa the bag, as ’twere, maybe I could tell ’is Lordship a thing or two?”

  “No,” Alicia said quickly. “He’d not believe you. Oh, God, I wish ...” Into her mind drifted an old nursery rhyme. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” She sank down amid the welter of garments on the floor, feeling frustrated and defeated. Even armed with Effie’s surprising confidence, she could do nothing with it. Lucian would not believe her nor Effie even if the girl were to swear to it on a stack of bibles. This Lucian would believe only what he wanted to believe, and he would be positive that Effie had invented the whole of it to aid her mistress. He might even

  suspect that she, Alicia, had put her up to it. She sighed and shrugged. “Effie, we are here for a reason. We must try to see if we can find that material.” She dropped the jewelry into the trunk.

  “You’ll not be keepin’ ’em, milady?”

  Alicia shook her head. “They are paste, Effie, paste ornaments for an imitation bride.”

  The girl stared at her openmouthed in amazement. “But,” she said finally, “I’ve just told ye wot Jane said.”

  “Lucian does not know the truth, Effie, and until he does, I would just as soon wear nothing at all when it comes to jewelry ... at least these ornate pieces. If he sees me decked out in imitation baubles, he will believe that I am, in essence, asking that he provide me with others that are real. I would prefer not to create such a false impression. Now, come, let us continue with what we are doing while still we have the sunshine.”

  Effie returned to the trunk and held up a third necklace. “ ’Ere be another one an’ it be all diamonds. My, ’ow they do catch the light.”

  “Put it back,” Alicia said firmly. It occurred to her that it might have been better if Effie had not broken her promise to Jane. The confidence had thrilled her for the moment but it had also served to increase her frustration. Would he ever know the truth? Dr. Hepworth’s story came back to her and now it did not seem quite as comforting as it had before. After all, it had been seven years before the highland chief had regained his memory. Could she endure seven more years of Lucian’s doubt and distrust? She was not at all sure of that!

  “But you are here! I was delighted to see you and Lucian come in!” Lady Hewes, looking very smart in a long golden- brown coat trimmed with a dark-brown fur and a turban to match, confronted Alicia, whom she had waylaid as the sermon ended and even before she and Lucian had come out of the family pew. Without waiting for a response, she cocked an eye at Lucian. “And how are you, dear?” she inquired. “You look a bit peaked, but I am delighted that the horrid war did not spoil your appearance.” Her glance slipped back to Alicia. “And talking about appearance, yours has definitely improved, but though I much prefer gray to the black you are wearing the first time we met, I do feel you should wear blues or browns or greens. After all, you are not a widow, praise be. Yes”—she surveyed Alicia from head to toe—"you are looking much more the thing. I think it must be the country air. You, Lucian, were quite right to bring your beautiful bride here, the rigors of the town, you know. Have you seen Hewes? No? He is, no doubt, outside speaking with the vicar. Do join him! He is avidly interested in mangel-wurzels for cattle and is sure you must know something about it. Go and relieve his mind, I pray you.”

  Lucian, looking a bit battered by Lady Hewes’ rapidly fired phrases, managed a smile. “I cannot believe that Christopher, unless he is greatly changed from when we last met, could be interested in cattle fodder.”

  “Would that what you have just said ’twere true. None would be happier than I, the partner of his bosom. But, alas, Lucian, you are wrong and I am right. Mangel-wurzels fill his mind and dominate his conversation. I have them for dinner and supper as well. I lay abed too long to breakfast with him, else I should hear about them over chocolate and rolls. Go and listen. I know you will agree with me, and besides, I want to be private with your bride.” She gave him a little push, and Lucian, looking rather discomfited, went on out.

  “There,” Lady Hewes said triumphantly. “He has at last taken the hint. I must say Lucian is looking much better than I expected. And ’tis a pleasure to see him in civilian dress at last. Such a leg as he has, and shows it to perfection in those narrow black pantaloons. His coat is nearly a match for his eyes, too. I expect that Jacob is responsible for his cravat. Hewes will not let Horace, his man, do anything half so complicated. He says it scratches his chin and gives him a stiff neck besides. Fashion means nothing to him, but never mind that. By the way I was perfectly serious about your gray gown. You must wear colors. And I’ve not had a chance to ask you what you think of our church. Is it not unusual with shops built into its sides and trade carried on in the aisles?”

  “I did find it rather disconcerting,” Alicia confessed.

  “I find it delightful myself.” Lady Hewes grinned. “It gives me something to watch during the vicar’s interminable sermons. He is dull. But why did you not come last Sunday?” She did not wait for an answer but motioned to a pew. “Do sit down here. None will disturb us. They are all outside busily discussing you. I assume you were aware of the attention you were receiving even though you had your eyes glued to your hymnal?”

  “I,” Alicia began, “did not—”

  “But,” her irrepressible companion spoke over her tentative response, “you must not mind them. Some, of course, will have been primed by my cousin and believe you an adventuress and they will have helped her spread the word to the others, but I have words to counteract their words and I must say that your deportment is perfect and . . .” She lowered her voice. “Did I see you nodding at Dr. Hepworth? Do you know him?”

  “He came to tend Lucian last week,” Alicia said. “He—”

  “He is a very good doctor, is he not? Such a sad story, and yet romantic. Imagine it has blighted his whole life, not that it did not benefit those about here who need a skilled physician, but he was due to go to London. He had been offered a position at the palace, no less! He is well-connected, the younger son of Sir William Hepworth, who has . . . or rather his elder son, Frederic, has an estate some distance from here. Dr. Hepworth has a nice house himself—small, of course—and his father was going to buy him another in

  London when it happened. Sir William is dead now, but Frederic would be equally obliging. James, however—that is, Dr. Hepworth—prefers to remain here. I wonder if he ever will recover from the shock? ’Twas a great tragedy. I shall tell you about it quickly and then we must join the others. I am giving a ball, by the way, and you will be invited. I want everyone to meet you! Lucian is walking more easily. Will he be able to dance? No, matter, you will not want for partners. You really are looking so very much better. I expect you are more rested and less anxious. At least Lucian is not dead and he does not seem as disturbed as I anticipated, though, of course, none of the Morleys wear their hearts on their sleeves, but they are known to have tempers. The Spanish blood, you understand, way back but there. It has made Lucian quite divinely handsome and so delightfully un-English-appearing. I could never understand Barbara casting out lures for Pryde, especially when she ought to have guessed that she did not stand a chance with his mama . . . Oh, yes, I was talking about Dr. Hepworth, was I not? He was just out of medical school and she . . . Her name was Juliet, Juliet Cotterel. I do not expect Lucian has told you anything about this—or has he?—but I do not expect he knows. It happened so
me two years back. Has he said anything?”

  “No, nothing,” Alicia returned, trying to conceal a combination of curiosity and sympathy. She well recalled the aura of melancholy that had permeated the doctor’s manner.

  “No, I am sure he would know nothing about it. He was away when it happened. I expect Barbara would have heard, but she’d not believe it interesting enough to repeat. Nothing that does not concern my dear cousin is interesting to her, I can assure you. She is entirely self-centered, and certainly she would never have liked poor Juliet, if she knew her at all. I had only the most cursory acquaintance with the girl. She was, by the way, much on your coloring, but her hair was even lighter—a strange shade, almost silvery. She wore it in braids, very unfashionable, but one heard that when it was unbound she could sit on it. For the rest, she was very lovely, slender, sylphlike, and small, like you, poor child. She was just eighteen when it happened.”

  “What happened?” Alicia shot the question at Lady Hewes and then flushed, aware that her impatience must be very evident.

  “Well, to make a long story short, Juliet and James Hepworth were very much in love. They had met at an assembly in Richmond. I was in London at the time, but I understand that it was love at first sight. Their families were in favor of the match. He is the younger son of Sir William Hepworth—but I told you that, did I not? She is a cousin of the de Courcys, and being engaged to young James, he obtained permission to take her to an assembly in Richmond again. She should have had a chaperone, but her Aunt Mildred, Lady Rande, who usually accompanied her, was ill with a quinsy and so they went alone, which was just as well, for dear Mildred at least. Juliet lived with her aunt—some distance from town, a fine old house, to be sure, but a bit out of the way, a long stretch of lonely road before the turnoff to the main highway.