The Selfless Sister

by Shirley Kennedy

  “How terrible.”

  Lady Perry’s eyes moistened as she nodded. “Twenty-five years have gone by and I can still hardly bear to think of it. It was terrible for me, and, of course, for his parents. Lady Belington took to her bed and was not seen for months. Lord Belington was the one who called on me to impart the tragic news. Beyond his brave facade, I have never seen such grief. Poor man, he was shocked and devastated. Not only was he forced to endure the shame of the scandal, but then, to compound his grief he lost his son and heir.”

  “Are they both dead now?”

  Alas, yes. Neither Lord nor Lady Belington lived more than a few years after the tragedy. Marianne’s disappearance—Gregory’s running off and then his suicide–were simply too much to bear, especially since both of them were immediately ostracized. When Marianne disappeared, the entire countryside turned against them.”

  “But why?” Lucinda asked. “What had they done?”

  “Nothing, of course, but nonetheless, they were blamed because the hideous event occurred on their estate at their Christmas celebration. Mainly, though, they were shunned because Gregory was their son. To the very end they claimed his innocence, and people didn’t like that. I think that if they’d admitted his guilt, they would have been forgiven, or at least things might have gone easier for them.”

  “Didn’t Lord and Lady Belington even consider that Gregory might be guilty?”

  “Never. Oh, they believed that Gregory had taken Marianne into the woods. Edgerton, who was only a child then, had no reason to lie, nor did his little sister. And besides, later on, the pony was found, still saddled, wandering around outside the stable. The indications are the pony came back from the woods on its own after what happened. But still, Lord and Lady Belington never had a doubt their son was completely innocent.”

  After a moment of dreary silence, Lady Perry brightened. “I’ve said enough, haven’t I? Please forgive me for dwelling on such a depressing subject.” She lifted the teapot. “May I pour you some more tea?”

  “You have never married,” Lucinda mentioned after the tea was poured and she was stirring sugar into her cup.

  “I could never find another Gregory.” Lady Perry nodded brightly. “But I’ve led a satisfying life, regardless.” She made a sweeping gesture around the drawing room. “I have built my life around my home and quite frankly, lead a most happy existence. I embroider, write poetry, and I love to entertain. My life is full and happy, which only goes to show, Lucinda”—she leaned forward as if to impart a confidence—”one doesn’t necessarily need a man in order to be happy.”

  Lucinda burst out laughing. “Tell that to my parents! Also a particular sister of mine. I whole-heartedly agree with you. If I cannot find a man I truly love, I shall spend my life sketching birds and not regret a thing.”

  “Ah, yes, I’ve heard you go bird watching,” Lady Perry said. “I have heard that already you’ve found a few rare species of birds around York. On-dit has it you’ve even gotten our dear Alethea involved.”

  Lucinda beamed. “Alethea has become quite the bird watcher. She’s learned to identify many of them already. In fact, lately she’s been so eager she’s been going to the woods alone.”

  “Alone? In the woods?” A look of alarm crossed Lady Perry’s face. “Is that wise?”

  Lucinda hastened to answer, “We’ve not had a problem. From what I understand, the woods are safe enough, and, besides, we never stray too far from home.”

  “I see.” A look of distress crossed Lady Perry’s face. “I’m being silly. But you don’t suppose...? No. What I’m thinking cannot possibly be true.”

  Lucinda was baffled. What could Lady Perry possibly mean?

  * * *

  Deep in the woods, seated on the paisley shawl she had spread, Alethea smiled at Alex, who had just arrived. Eagerly he sank down next to her. She felt a tingling jolt in the pit of her stomach as he took her hand. “Oh, Alex, we shouldn’t be doing this,” she cried, while at the same time throwing herself into his arms. As if remembering herself, she pulled back. “I told Lucinda I was going bird watching. It’s so wrong and I feel terrible, lying to Lucinda like this. She thinks I’ve taken a liking to bird watching when, in reality—”

  “Come back here where you belong,” Alex ordered. He pulled her close again and ran his hand over her long, flowing hair. “My dearest, I know we shouldn’t, but how can I stay away from you?” His mouth hungrily covered hers. Throwing caution to the winds, she returned his kiss with reckless abandon. When at last they broke apart, he moaned and declared, “I love you, Alethea. I want you in the worst way. I can’t sleep at night for thinking about you.”

  “And I love you,” she cried, “but—”

  “Don’t talk.” His lips recaptured hers, more demanding the time. She felt such delicious sensations she wondered how she could ever let him go. When they broke apart again, she weakly protested, “But we mustn’t! Papa will—”

  “A pox on Edgerton Linley,” Alex murmured fervently as he left a trail of kisses across her cheek, down her neck, then up to nibble on her earlobe.

  “But I’m afraid Papa will find out,” she murmured back, not making the least effort to push Alex away. A shiver of delight shot through her as he continued doing that delicious thing to her ear. “He’ll kill me,” she declared.

  Alex pulled back. “Marry me, Alethea. We’ll run off to Gretna Green.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Once it’s done, it’s done. Eventually your father would have to forgive you.”

  Despairingly she shook her head. “Papa would burn in hell before he’d forgive me for marrying a Belington. At the very least, he would disown me and cast me out. I would not mind being disowned, but I can’t face the thought of never seeing my family again.”

  “Surely they would come and visit you.”

  “No, they would not. Mama—Grandmother—little Charles— Sarah—all live in fear of him. I know better than to think they could ever gather the courage to defy the all-powerful Edgerton Linley.” She sighed in defeat and resignation. “No. If I marry you, I shall be compelled to give up my family completely. I cannot tell you the pain I would suffer if I did.”

  “Good God!” Alex cried in frustration, “what do we do?”

  “I don’t know, my dearest love.”

  Her arms crept around him. She ran her fingers through his burnished gold hair. When her fingers touched the back of his neck, with a moan he seized her again. As they fell back onto the spread shawl, a hot ache grew in her throat. You must remember Papa, admonished a little voice within her. Yes, indeed, she must, but it was difficult, what with the giddy sense of pleasure that was surging through her veins as his lips demanded hers again.

  Oh, so very, very difficult.

  “What could be more heavenly than London when the sun is shining?” Lady Perry delightfully exclaimed.

  “I’m having such a wonderful time,” Lucinda blithely responded. So far, their tour of the London shops had gone perfectly. Lucinda’s spirits were uplifted, and no wonder. After having to deal with the weak-willed women at Southfield, she found Lady Perry—Felicia—to be a pillar of strength and a font of wisdom. Only her own mother could compare. They had already made the rounds of the shops on Bond Street, as well as Wedgewood’s in Grosvenor Square, and had stopped for an ice at Gunter’s in Berkeley Square. Now they were alighting from their carriage which had just come to a halt in front of one-ninety Piccadilly.

  Dressed in a walking gown of blue bombazine trimmed with swansdown, with a tucked-silk bonnet of matching blue perched atop her head, Lucinda, who loved books, thought Hatchards Book Shoppe was the best treat of all. “I shall browse to my heart’s content,” she declared.

  “I do believe it’s done you good to get away from Southfield for a time,” said Lady Perry thoughtfully. Her brows flew into a slight frown. “Although I must confess, I occasionally see a far-away look in your eyes.” She smiled teasingly. “Is it a beau you’r
e dreaming about? Or perhaps someone you wish were your beau?”

  Laughing, Lucinda replied, “I assure you, I have nothing but shopping on my mind. And now”—she glanced up at the Hatchards sign and grinned—”I plan to wallow in books, which to my mind will be the perfect end to a perfect day.”

  She had not exactly told a lie, Lucinda told herself as they entered the bookshop. But then, she had not told quite the truth, either. Since Lady Perry’s ball, she could not prevent herself from thinking about Lord Belington. He surely was not a beau, of course. Such an appellation simply did not suit a man as fiercely independent as Belington. She could not say what he was, only that he’d been disturbing her thoughts of late. She could absolutely not get those dark, brooding eyes out of her head—or prevent herself from seeing, over and over, that mocking little smile.

  Well, she had better get wise and forget about him. For one thing, she had promised Edgerton never to speak to his despised neighbor again. For another, Belington might be attractive, but still, he was not at all what she was looking for in a man, certainly not like Papa. She wished, though, she’d had a chance to speak to him one more time. If she had, she would have told him how she deeply regretted having to miss their tryst in the woods that day. That was horribly rude. She had many times regretted her unforgivable breach of etiquette, even though she had good reason. Of course, there was more to her feelings than simply regretting her bad manners, but she had shied away from delving into the real reason she felt so miserable over the affair.

  She wondered how long it would take before she could clear her mind completely of Lord Belington.

  Inside the shop, Lucinda spied a whole table of books from Minerva Press. She picked up Mrs. Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho, which she had already read, but perhaps Alethea might like to read it, too. She stepped back and bumped someone, then turned to apologize. “I am terribly sorry I—”

  Her heart leaped. It was Douglas, Lord Belington.

  She was so astounded she bumped back against the table and had to grip a hand underneath for support. Of all people! What was he doing in Hatchards, two books in his hands? She never thought of him as a reader, not like Papa.

  For a moment she stared, tongue-tied. Finally she collected herself enough to dip a brief curtsy and murmur, “Why, Lord Belington, what a surprise seeing you here.”

  Douglas, who was as astounded as she, swiftly placed a cavalier expression on his face and bowed in return. From the moment he became of aware of whom he had bumped into, his pulse had started to race. He was having a devil of a time taking pains to ensure his discomposure didn’t show. “Ah, the compassionate Miss Linley. Is it really such a surprise?” He thought of a fine riposte and quirked an eyebrow. “Or do you think of me as too predacious ever to actually read a book?”

  If he thought his remark might draw a smile, he was mistaken. Her straight, unyielding mouth—the uncertainty in her eyes—told him she was in no mood for humor.

  ”Compassionate?” she asked, frowning. “I’m afraid I do not grasp your meaning.”

  “I had in mind your compassion for the birds, Miss Linley. On the day we met, I could not help but note your deep concern for our little feathered friends.”

  Aha! He had caught a glint of humor in her eye, although he could see she was trying not to smile. She glanced at the books he was holding. He held them up and remarked, “Yes, amazing, though it may seem, Miss Linley, I actually do read—that is, when I’m not out slaughtering birds.”

  At last she smiled, and asked, “And what are your interests, Lord Belington?”

  “A number of things—poetry and essays, histories, social and historical novels by turn. These two I’ve selected are Fielding’s Tom Jones, and Goldsmith’s History of England.” He glanced at the book in her hand. “Ah, I see you have Mrs. Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho.”

  “I have already read it, but I thought to buy it for my cousin, Alethea, although it’s only a silly Gothic.”

  “But not at all!” Douglas protested. “Did you not find it to contain an implicit critique of women’s place in society? I found the heroine, Emily St Aubert to be an active and determined character. As a matter of fact, she reminds me of you, Miss Linley, in that she presents an assertive model for female behavior.”

  Lucinda had listened with growing astonishment as it became clear that Lord Belington had other interests beside slaughtering birds. “I must apologize,” she said abruptly.

  He looked puzzled. “Really? And for what reason?”

  “I am terribly sorry about...well, you know.”

  “No, I do not know.”

  “I was unable to meet you in the woods that day, as we had planned.”

  “Do tell,” he remarked, standing back, crossing his arms.

  She sucked in her breath. “You mean you didn’t know?”

  “Know what?” Good. That bewildered look on her face told him he had completely confounded her. Just what he’d wanted. Damned if he would describe his long, agonizing, fruitless wait. No need for her to know that on that dismal day he had acted like a love-sick school boy, heart pounding with the anticipation of seeing her again. Then, as time dragged by and she did not appear, he sank into an abyss of misery and self-pity, followed by anger which eventuated into disgust with himself for entertaining such feelings over a woman—any woman, and most particularly this...this willowy bit of blue fluff who now stood in front of him, all blushes and stammers, attempting to apologize. Ha! He needed no apology and most certainly intended to let her know.

  Now she looked even more unsure of herself and stammered, “Then I guess if you weren’t there, no harm done.”

  “I quite agree.” Perfect. He had managed to make her think he hadn’t been in the woods to meet her, when in truth he had said so such thing at all. Of course, he had implied it. Not the most ethical, high-minded response, perhaps, but by far the most gratifying. At least he’d saved his pride.

  She nodded at his acquiescence, attempting a faint half-smile. “Then I shall bid you good day, sir.”

  No! He didn’t want her to go. “You needn’t rush off.”

  As he watched, a flush started reddening her cheeks. It was obvious her confusion was turning to anger. He could almost read her thoughts: that all this time she had worried she had hurt his feelings, when all the time he, too, had missed their rendezvous, and for no apparent reason. Why, she must think him a cad! “See here, I...” What could he say? How could he explain himself? Perhaps he had better tell her the truth, after all. “Look, let me explain. I—”

  “I hardly think an explanation is necessary,” she snapped. “If you want the truth, I really don’t care to hear anything you might have to say.”

  He wondered if she had any idea how adorable she looked, standing there defying him, earbobs swinging, anger sparking in those big brown eyes. How utterly charming. What have I done? he wondered. And why did he have this tremendous urge to take her in his arms and cover that temptingly curved mouth—at the moment tight with anger—with his own?

  Not a good idea, though, he thought with irony. In fact a very bad one, especially in the middle of a crowded Hatchards, and most especially since, because of his own rudeness, the young lady looked about ready to whack The Mysteries of Udolpho over his head.

  Douglas, you fool. If only he’d told the complete truth to begin with and not allowed his pride to get in the way. Not only that, she might have told him why she hadn’t come to the woods that day. He had wanted—still wanted desperately to know. At least he’d kept his pride, for what that was worth, and managed to keep his usual opaque, disinterested look. She would be astounded to know the turmoil their chance meeting had caused within himself. A quick retreat would be in order. He needed to regroup because, if nothing else, he was confused by his own behavior.

  Best to get away—apologize with some semblance of dignity before his whole facade of indifference collapsed completely. “Good day, Miss Linley. It seems we are at odds.
If I have offended you, my deepest apologies.”

  Since she was already pressed against the table, she could not step backward, but she gave every indication of wishing to do so. “Good day sir,” she said with the warmth of a gale blowing in from the North Sea. “I see now I needn’t have worried about offending you.”

  “No apology necessary,” he replied, striving for a flippant tone. He bowed and moved away.

  Lucinda looked after him, her pulse still quickened by a combination of chagrin and...what? She had almost forgotten that powerful feeling of excitement she got every time she talked with him. When he had stood so close to her, she was acutely aware of him, and it most definitely wasn’t from her embarrassment over not keeping their tryst. But he hadn’t been there either! And to think she had actually felt guilty about not meeting him in the woods that day!

  How foolish could she get?

  Chapter 9

  With a satisfied sigh, Lady Perry dropped into a Louis XVI gilt chair, part of the plush furnishings of their beautifully appointed suite in the Clarendon. Beaming, she declared, “What a delightful day! We shall dine downstairs tonight. The Clarendon is the only hotel in London where you can find a genuine French dinner.”

  Only half listening, Lucinda settled into an identical chair across. “I have heard of their cook, Jacquiers,” she responded listlessly. Since Hatchards, her thoughts had been in a turmoil and she couldn’t concentrate on anything.

  “I’m sure he’ll outdo himself again,” replied Lady Perry. She picked up a satirical print by Gillray which she’d just purchased at Mrs. Humphrie’s Print Shop in St. James Street. It was of the Whig politician, Charles James Foxby, and she considered it a real find. “Isn’t this hilarious? Though I had best not hang it in any prominent spot at home.”

  Lucinda glanced at the caricature of a man in ragged French sansculottes whose face was unshaven and hairy and whose gaiety suggested drunkenness. “It surely is hilarious,” she answered without conviction.