Lady Barbara's Dilemma

by Marjorie Farrell

  “She is in the second set of the dance, Grandfather. The tall blond lassie who is stuck with the undersized and over-bellied guardsman.”

  “Alec!” chided his mother.

  “Ah, well, Mother, but we danced so well together the other night that it fair makes me want to weep.”

  “Are you never serious, Alec?” asked his father.

  “I promise you, I am very serious about this young woman.”

  When the music stopped, Alec was quick to approach Barbara and bring her over to his family.

  “Lady Barbara Stanley, my grandfather, the Duke of Strathyre. My father, the Marquess of Doune. And Lady Doune.”

  “I am delighted to meet you all. You are not down for the Season often?”

  Alec’s mother smiled. “Not if we can help it. My father-in-law is in London frequently for political business, but we prefer to go only as far as Edinburgh.”

  The duke said nothing beyond his first greeting, but as others joined their little group, Barbara was always conscious of his presence. For a small man, he exuded an almost palpable sense of power. She glanced over occasionally, but could see nothing revealed on his face. She marveled that someone as open as Alec was a part of this family, but it became clear, during the next quarter hour, that he had inherited his mother’s warmth and sense of humor.

  “They are striking up a waltz, Lady Barbara. May I have the honor?” asked Alec.

  “Why, yes, I believe I am free,” answered Barbara, barely glancing at her dance card. To tell the truth, she did not care whether she had already promised the dance. She wanted to feel Alec’s arm around her again.

  They were silent for the first few measures, enjoying their compatibility once again. When Alec finally spoke, Barbara almost regretted his breaking the spell.

  “What did you think of the MacLeod family, lassie?”

  “I think your grandfather must be a formidable opponent, political or otherwise. Indeed, despite the fact that he and I are of a height, I felt he was looking down on me. I admire you for challenging him.”

  Alec chuckled. “Yes, I learned a long time ago that my size gave me no advantage over either my father or the duke. In fact, when I was younger, it worked against me. I ever felt the clumsy oaf as an adolescent. It took me years to learn how to deal with them.”

  “And how is that?”

  “With charm and guile, lassie. How else?”

  “Not a thing to brag about,” replied Barbara with tart humor, as the music came to an end and he guided her off the dance floor and over to the refreshment table.

  “Ach, I learned a long time ago that you cannot go head to head with unbending power. You must flow over and around it. Like water over a rock.”

  “Or like quicksilver.”

  Alec smiled down at her. “Not quite so slippery as that, my lady. I am a very concentrated fellow when going after what I want.”

  “Yes, your success as a busker certainly proves that,” admitted Barbara. “You wanted your music and you got it.”

  “And is there anything you want?” asked Alec.

  “Oh, once I would have envied you your freedom to choose, but I think I am finally content with music’s place in my life.”

  “Our lot is not all that different. I am not as constrained as a woman, but I am by rank. I am confined to composition rather than performance, as I have told you already. Although I have held onto the old plaid in case I get restless!” he added, his eyes twinkling. “But is there nothing else you want in life? You were betrothed last year. I do not mean to pry, but did you not lose something you wanted then?”

  Barbara looked up in surprise and then quickly down, embarrassed by the concern in Alec’s eyes. “I thought I wanted to be Wardour’s wife. But then I came to know him better and decided we would not suit.”

  “He seemed a very kind and serious man to me.”

  “He was—is—a kind man. But there was an area of disagreement we discovered which made it impossible for me to marry him.”

  “It must have been something important to make you give up someone you loved,” Alec said gently. He knew he was going beyond politeness, but he wanted to find out if she had any lingering regrets.

  “Well, I am not at all sure now if I loved him. I suppose I didn’t, if love is defined as giving up a piece of oneself.”

  “Was it your music, lass?”

  “In part. He saw it as something analogous to sketching or embroidery, appropriate for a woman when not taken too seriously.” Barbara hesitated and then decided to tell Alec the whole. “The heart of our disagreement was over whom I could choose as friends. He wished me to end my acquaintance with David Treves,” said Barbara. “I found I could not do so.”

  Alec had known months ago that he wanted Barbara. That he was in love with her. But until now he had not known her except through music. He thought of the courage it had taken to give up an ideal marriage for a private moral conviction, and knew that he was lucky indeed to have fallen in love with a woman he could share more than music with. He had found someone he could also love.

  Alec’s silence worried Barbara.

  “You think I was foolish, I suppose.”

  “Ah, lassie, would that the world had more fools like you,” he said, and his hand caressed her cheek so quickly and so lightly that she could almost doubt he had touched her at all.

  “David knows nothing of this and I do not wish him to,” she said. “I did not do it for him, but for myself. Do you understand the difference?”

  “I do, lass, I do. As a Scot, I have sometimes been on the receiving end of liberal gestures that humiliate more than offer friendship.”

  “Thank you for understanding. You are one of the few people who does.”

  Alec broke the tension of the moment by asking her what she thought of his “wee mither” and she laughed delightedly at the thought of Lady Doune, who was an inch taller than herself, being referred to as “wee.”

  * * * *

  They danced once more that evening, but their conversation returned to its light and humorous level. When they bade each other good-night, it was with the promise of seeing one another at David and Deborah’s wedding.

  After Barbara returned home and had said her good-nights to Robin and Diana, she found herself unable to sleep. She realized that she had felt understood by Alec in the way she felt understood by Judith and David. What was different, however, was that with Alec, on her side at least, the potential for combining friendship with passion was a reality.

  Was there anything she wanted? he had asked. Had he been there with her at this moment she knew what she would have answered: she wanted Alec MacLeod. She wanted to experience again and again, not only the union that they shared as musicians, but the feeling of being seen and heard and understood, which had happened tonight. What their conversation had revealed to her was that here was a man with whom she could indeed have what Simon and Judith had found: passion and friendship. But did Alec find the same in her?

  Chapter 44

  Although part of what had drawn him to Deborah was her pride in being a Jewish woman, David was relieved that they were being married from her home and not a synagogue. His great-grandfather had attended the synagogue of Bevis Marks regularly, his grandfather on high holy days, but he and his father only on rare occasions. It was hard enough for his father to accept his marriage to a penniless woman who would only hinder his social progress. He was glad that the ceremony, although religious, would be in somewhat neutral territory.

  He was also relieved that Deborah’s father had not forced on them the traditional full year’s betrothal. He could not have waited that long, and he suspected that she was as eager as he to wed. Their embraces had become more and more passionate, and the closer they got to their wedding, the more eager David became.

  He was grateful for his valet as he dressed that morning, for he found his hands were shaking in nervousness and anticipation. As his man smoothed the shoulders of his pearl-gray sup
erfine and handed him his gloves and hat, he was almost paralyzed with fear, and it was only the memory of Deborah’s candlelit face from that first Sabbath meal that energized him, and he was suddenly out the door before his man knew it.

  The wedding was small, but even so, Mitre Street had eyes at every window as the Stanley carriage and the earl’s coach pulled up. Robin lifted Diana down and was about to offer his hand to Barbara when he noticed Alec MacLeod at his side. So the wind lies that way, thought Robin, as he yielded to the other man and escorted his wife in.

  Barbara, who had been adjusting her shawl, was expecting her brother, and the shock of surprise and pleasure at seeing Alec went right through her.

  “May I escort you in, Lady Barbara?”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Barbara had time for only a quick glance around, but her eyes grew wide at the drabness of the neighborhood.

  “Have you ever been to a Jewish wedding, my lord? I am not quite sure what to expect.”

  “I have not. I have heard, however, that it is a moving ceremony, followed by feasting and celebration.”

  And so it was. Perhaps because it was so different from the society weddings she had attended, Barbara found herself immeasurably moved when David walked into the room accompanied by his father and Mr. Cohen. Deborah was attended by Mrs. Treves and by Sarah.

  Deborah stepped under the chuppah, the traditional canopy, where David was waiting and after the blessings and welcome, all turned to Sarah, waiting for the ring. She held out her hand, closed so tightly in a fist that her knuckles were white, and slowly opened her fingers, revealing the gold circle.

  David placed the ring on Deborah’s right hand, repeating after the rabbi: “Haray aht m’kudeshet li b’tabba’at zu k’dat moshe v’yisrael.” (“Be you consecrated unto me by this ring in accordance with the laws of Moses and Israel.”)

  Barbara, who had smiled at the evidence of Sarah’s concentration, felt tears welling up as the rabbi concluded his benediction. She was shaken out of her reverie, however, when David’s foot smashed the glass, to remind everyone of the sorrow in life as well as the joy, and the Cohens’ friends shouted “Mazel tov!”

  Alec had disappeared from her side at some point, and when she heard the sound of the recessional, she realized why. The tune he was playing was unfamiliar to her and had a Spanish sound to it. Somehow, she felt he was playing it just for her, that he was speaking to her through his music, calling for her to celebrate love and life. Not just this particular love of David and Deborah, but all unions. It amazed her that Alec could move her that powerfully, and she had to remind herself that she was overly sensitive to music, after all.

  But what music and celebration followed! Even Diana was shaken out of her reserve and joined the dancing, holding onto the corner of Robin’s handkerchief and turning and turning with the music. Barbara danced with David and Mr. Cohen, but Alec was too busy playing to partner anyone. He played Ladino airs; he joined a neighborhood group of musicians for a few Polish tunes. And then he played a set of hornpipes and reels which had the guests improvising steps and whirling about in mock Highland flings.

  It was, the exhausted Stanleys agreed, the most enjoyable wedding they had ever attended. Even Diana had to agree, as they rode slowly home, Robin sprawled out, his wife leaning against his arm, and Barbara on the seat opposite, her feet disgracefully resting on the carriage seat.

  “Lord Alexander is responsible for this,” grumbled Robin. “The man is inexhaustible. It is a pity there was no one there to match him, so we could have had him dancing his feet off.”

  Barbara felt herself blushing, and was grateful for the darkness of the carriage. Although he had not been near her, had never partnered her, she felt, irrationally, that she had been dancing with Alec all evening.

  Chapter 45

  Alec himself was exhausted after the wedding. Even the well-worn calluses on his fingers had become sore from the constant playing. But he couldn’t have helped himself. Something in the occasion, perhaps the wonderful juxtaposition of solemnity and celebration had called out to this mercurial nature, and it was as though he was being driven to play by something deep inside him. As Deborah’s father had said in his toast, “L’Chaim.” Alec had wanted to continue the toast, not just to life, but to love, to the newlyweds, and to the loveliest woman in the room, the love of his life, Barbara Stanley. Since he could hardly do that, he played every song for her, letting what he felt flow through and out of him, on the music. Of course, she could not have known, he thought, laughing at his own Celtic romanticism. But he didn’t know if he had the patience to subject himself to a long wooing.

  By the time he called on Barbara a few days after the wedding, however, he thought he had himself well in hand.

  He was shown into the morning room, where Barbara and Diana were sipping tea.

  “Come, my lord, and join us in a cup before we start our practice.”

  “Have you recovered from your playing?” Diana asked.

  “Almost, although I do confess that my fingertips must now have calluses on their calluses. But it was a wild and wonderful wedding.”

  “Yes, I was just telling Barbara that it made me think quite differently about Jewish people. I have never known any, really, except Sir David, and him only socially. I was very impressed by the ceremony.”

  “And Mr. Cohen was a wonderful dancer,” teased Barbara. “He danced with Diana three times,” she added in an aside to Alec.

  “Disgraceful!”

  “Actually,” admitted Diana, “it was wonderful to be able to be carefree and not worry about what is done or not done. I very much enjoyed myself and Mr. Cohen is truly a wonderful dancer. Better than Robin.”

  “Diana, I am shocked!”

  “Now, don’t tease, Barbara, but it is often true that one’s spouse is not always one’s favorite dance partner. Sometimes with another man, one feels an instant rapport. On the dance floor, my dear. On the dance floor only,” continued Diana repressively as Barbara started to laugh at the thought of the balding, stout Mr. Cohen and Lady Diana developing instant rapport. And yet they had, for everyone had commented upon the gracefulness of their dancing.

  “We had better get busy, my lord,” Barbara said to Alec. Perhaps we will be able to play the whole sonata today.”

  “Aye, that is what I had hoped.”

  “Well, don’t be shy, you two,” said Diana, letting them go.

  * * * *

  As Alec watched Barbara walk down the hall in front of him, he could not help thinking that he and Barbara might always be each other’s best partner, on and off the dance floor. The question was, how soon might he be able to convince her of this?

  Barbara felt Alec’s eyes on her and was quite unaccountably warm by the time she reached the music room. She sat down quickly at the pianoforte. Instead of handing her the music, Alec leaned over her to place it in front of her.

  This time, as Alec breathed near her cheek, Barbara turned toward him. His nose brushed hers, and their lips met lightly for a few seconds before Alec started to pull away.

  “Don’t stop,” whispered Barbara, without thinking.

  “Dinna fash yerself, lass,” said Alec as he sat down beside her on the pianoforte bench. “I am juist getting a wee bit more comfortable.” Barbara opened her eyes and reached her hand up to touch his face.

  “Oh, lassie,” said Alec, falling even deeper into his Scottish lilt, “I dinna think I can wait any longer.”

  “For what?” she whispered.

  “For this,” he replied, and putting his arms around her, kissed her passionately and deeply.

  As she began to respond, she waited for him to draw back, the way Wardour always had. Instead, as she hungrily nibbled at his lips, he only groaned and began to tease hers open.

  “You are not going to stop?” she asked wonderingly.

  “Stop? Not unless you want me to.”

  Instead of answering, Barbara drew his head down to hers and felt, parado
xically, that he was both satisfying every longing and, at the same time, making her want more, years more of him.

  When at last they pulled away from each other, it was only to take a breath and be drawn like magnets into another embrace.

  Alec pulled away first, and gave a long sigh.

  Was he regretting it? thought Barbara. Did he think her shameless?

  “You didn’t enjoy that, my lord?” she asked, shocking herself by her boldness.

  “Oh, lass, enjoy isna the word. It is only that I had not planned to do this.”

  “Well, neither had I, I assure you,” she replied tartly. “We can forget it ever happened. I am no seventeen-year-old, you know.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Yes, I suppose you can be thankful,” said Barbara, hurt more than she had ever dreamed possible. “You don’t have to worry that I will call ‘compromise.’ ”

  “Well, if you won’t lass, then I will have to.”

  Alec stood up as though he were indeed going to open the music-room door and shout the word down the corridor.

  “Alec,” she said, grabbing his arm, “what had you not planned to do?”

  “I had not planned to woo you like a bloody Celtic wild man, but in a dignified, slow Sassenach way. And I’ve blown it all to hell.”

  “Woo me?” asked Barbara.

  “Yes, now that I can honestly, as myself. I could hardly have done it as Alec Gower. Especially with you betrothed to another man.”

  “I am almost twenty-seven, you know, quite on the shelf.”

  “And what would I want with a seventeen-year-old, I would like to know? I want you.”

  “Why?”

  “All these questions, lass. Don’t you believe me?”

  “Oh, yes, I do,” said Barbara softly. “But I wanted to help you to a more dignified wooing, my lord,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.

  “The reasons why I want you. This could take days, you know,” said Alec.

  “Then you had better get started, my lord.”