Lady Perry nodded sympathetically. “All because of Edgerton, I’m afraid. The man is such a tyrant.”
“I’ve been thinking I might talk to him by myself. But the very thought of facing him makes me fearful, too.” Lucinda let out a deprecating little laugh. “I’m as bad as the rest.”
“Save yourself the trouble. As I recall, Edgerton was a sly little boy, most unpleasant. He always reminded me of a weasel with those beady little eyes. Besides which, he’s always been completely intractable. All Napoleon’s army would never get him to change.”
Lucinda remembered Sarah’s words. “Do you think Edgerton told the whole truth about that day?”
Lady Perry took a moment to arrange her thoughts. “I shall be perfectly honest with you. I don’t know how, I don’t why, but I’ve always had the feeling that more happened on that day than we were told. I’ve never said this to a living soul, but I am convinced Edgerton lied and that he holds the key to Marianne’s disappearance. Many times I have wished that some miracle would occur—don’t ask me what, I have no idea—and we could discover what really happened that day. If we could, I’m almost positive we’d find that Edgerton was somehow responsible.” She regarded Lucinda thoughtfully. “The only real cure to all these problems is to find out the truth. Are you our miracle, Lucinda? You, with your sharpness and your tenaciousness, and, yes, your bravery, perhaps you’re the one who can find the truth.”
“Do you think...?” Lucinda began, then changed her mind. “Oh, I don’t know.” Frustration overwhelmed her. “Right now all I can think of is that poor little boy. It’s so unfair.”
Lady Perry looked thoughtful. “It’s unfair because you’re a woman and no one listens to what a woman has to say.”
“Edgerton treats me as if I didn’t have a brain in my head.” Lucinda set her cup down with a clatter, incensed at all the injustice in her life.
“I am reminded of Mary Wollstonecraft,” mused Lady Perry. “She said, and quite aptly I’m afraid, that women are the toys of men—his rattle, so to speak, ‘and it must jingle in his ears whenever, dismissing reason, he chooses to be amused.’”
“Infuriating but true, I’m afraid,” replied Lucinda, vividly remembering that lustful look in Edgerton’s eyes.
“So very true.” Lady Perry answered sadly. Men want women to be pleasing and that’s what they get—women incapable of anything else. That’s why women act as they do, and that includes your poor, cowering cousins. It’s simply that women are ill-equipped to deal with anything beyond their own home, totally incapable of facing life on their own. Thus, this fearful, humbling dependency on men.”
Lucinda smiled ruefully at her friend. “At least you’re not dependent.”
“That’s only because I never married and have an independent income of my own.”
“An excellent reason for remaining single.”
Their eyes locked in a moment of sisterly understanding before Lady Perry continued, “But you see how difficult it is to assert yourself in a man’s world, most especially when you live in a house ruled by a tyrant like Edgerton.”
“Difficult enough for me, but impossible for Jane and Sarah, and even his own mother. Edgerton’s word is like God’s.”
“You could go home to Essex, you know. Forget all this unpleasantness.”
Lucinda considered a moment. “Since I’ve been at Southfield, I’ve grown to appreciate my family more than I ever did in my life. I can’t tell you how much I would love to go home right now. I won’t, though. Despite everything, I still might find some way to help Charles”—she raised a mischievous eyebrow—”despite my inferior, powerless position in life.”
Lady Perry acknowledged the humor with a swift smile. “It is indeed a woman’s lot in life to serve and keep her mouth shut. I, myself, feel fortunate because I am one of the lucky few who has avoided domination by a male. Not that it was my intention. If only Gregory had lived! If he had, he would never have been the tyrant Edgerton is.”
Lucinda nodded firmly in agreement. “More and more I think I’ll stay single, too. I would hate to think of marrying someone who might turn into another Edgerton.”
“But what a shame if you remain single—a lovely girl like you. Is there no one?”
Lucinda started to say no, but hesitated, struck by the image of Douglas that sprang into her head. “I...I’m not sure.” She caught herself. What was she thinking of? What with worrying over Charles, she had not thought of Douglas since this morning. Indeed, a miracle. Now, despite herself, her heart swelled with excitement at the thought of their kiss. She had just discovered, much to her surprise and dismay, that she wanted very much to see Lord Belington again, even though he was a forceful, aggressive, audacious male, not in the least like her father—well, except for the fact that he did read books, which, she had to admit, had impressed her that day in Hatchards.
The visit with Felicia had raised her spirits immensely, Lucinda thought on the way home. Just being in the presence of a confident, courageous woman, instead of those namby-pambies at Southfield was rewarding enough, let alone the enlightened conversation she had so enjoyed.
Nothing was solved, though. Felicia was right about Edgerton. The truth of the tragedy held the key to all that was wrong at Southfield, and Ravensbrook as well. In her mind, Lucinda ran over the many different versions of the story. She couldn’t think what, but somewhere in there, something wasn’t right.
For no apparent reason, thoughts of Alethea popped into her head. Her cousin had not been looking well lately and she hoped everything was all right
Chapter 12
For the past several weeks, Alethea’s despair deepened with every passing day. Oh, it couldn’t be, but it was! Despite her despairing prayers, the deliverance she’d so desperately hoped for had not appeared. This morning she finally forced herself to face the truth.
She was with child.
She could not eat or sleep. Over and over she cursed herself for that one moment of weakness in the woods that day when she succumbed to Alex and his charms, and he to hers. In truth, she could not put the blame totally on Alex. She was honest enough to admit half the blame was hers. That she loved him was no excuse. Since then, suffering her just punishment, she lived in a constant agony of fear, first worrying that she might be with child, and now, knowing the awful truth, torturing herself with the knowledge that she brought this calamity upon herself.
Sheer black fright swept through her whenever she pictured Papa’s reaction when he found out. And he would find out. Oh, she could not bear the thought!
At least there was one way out of her dilemma—she could always kill herself. In those dark, ill-omened, pit-of-the-night hours when she lay sleepless, all hope gone, she deliberated on how she would go about doing the dreadful deed. Would she hang herself? Slash her wrists? Shoot herself with one of Papa’s shotguns? But deep down she knew she would do none of those things. She loved life. No matter what agonies she faced, she would never leave this earth of her own accord.
She had kept everything to herself, fearful that if she told Mama or Grandmama they might somehow slip and reveal her shame to Papa. Naturally she hadn’t told Aunt Sarah, who would no doubt rush straight to Papa, fast as her skinny legs could carry her, to denounce his only daughter for the wanton creature she supposedly was.
She had almost confided in Lucinda. As it was, she suspected her perceptive cousin already knew something was wrong. But up to now she hadn’t wanted to admit the awful truth, even to herself. Now all hope was gone and soon—oh, what a ghastly, horrible thought!—she would be “showing,” as the ladies so delicately put it, and all the world would see that she had committed an abominable, unforgivable sin.
But from that sin...
Despite her anguished fears, there was a part of her that thrilled to think that deep within herself she carried Alex’s baby. A baby! Her heart leaped at the thought, despite her agony.
This morning she made up her mind. There was only one
path she could follow. She had stayed away from Alex since that day, but now she must meet with him and tell him the truth. If he still loved her, he would offer to take her to Gretna Green where they could be married. But how could she run away? The very thought wrenched her heart. She loved Alex. It would be wonderful to marry him, spend the rest of her life together, but could she bear to pay the price? She knew her father. Without question, he would proclaim she must never see Mama again, or Grandmother Pernelia, or little Charles. Oh, life could be so cruel!
She had sent a note to Alex via her lady’s maid. Dangerous, for no one knew which servants could be trusted, and which could not, but she was so desperate she had to take that chance. Now, as she waited in the woods for Alex to appear, she realized she must look a fright with her face strained and pale, her eyes red from crying. Would Alex still care about her? After all, she had deliberately stayed away from him after that day in the woods. Perhaps he had found someone else by now and had even forgotten her name. She squared her shoulders, smoothed her simple gray muslin gown, and bit her lips to make them red.
Alex appeared, emerging from the heavily wooded path. “Alethea,” he exclaimed, his voice tender as he called her name. Arms outstretched, he came swiftly toward her and swept her into his arms. “How I have missed you,” he murmured in her ear as he gently rocked her back and forth. “I detest meeting this way, secretly in the woods, as if we were outlaws. Where have you been? Why didn’t I hear from you?”
“Oh, my love, I have missed you dreadfully,” she murmured, snug against his chest. He still cared for her! Such a relief! “It’s just...certain things have happened.”
He pulled his head back and regarded her squarely. “So why did you want to see me?” His gaze swept her up and down. A look of consternation crossed his face, almost as if he knew. “Has anything happened?”
She steadied herself and took the plunge. “I fear the unthinkable has happened and I do not know what to do. I am so afraid of Papa!”
Alex gripped her shoulders. “The unthinkable? Does that mean—?”
“Of a certainty.” She looked searchingly into Alex’s face. He had turned pale. “Is it all right?”
He smiled. “I am filled with joy.”
Such relief! “I, too, yet how can I be happy when I’m filled with dread? Papa will kill me.” Overcome, she turned to a nearby tree trunk, rested her arm on it, and buried her face against her arm. “He will kill us both.”
Alex stood behind her and tenderly wrapped his arms around her sobbing form. “A baby...how wonderful, Alethea.” He gripped her shoulders, turned her around and made her look at him through her tears. “It’s going to be all right. We shall be married immediately. I shall go to your father and—”
“No, no!” She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror.
“But it’s the only way.”
Alethea clutched the lapels of his jacket, frantic with fear. “You cannot talk to Papa! He will kill you—he will kill me. You can’t. Please, please, promise.”
Alex held her close and stroked her hair. “The baby is a cause for joy, not fear, and I refuse to be intimidated. However, since you feel so strongly, we’ll not tell your father. We shall leave for Gretna Green tonight.”
“But I cannot,” she cried. “Papa would disown me. I would never see my family again.”
Alex bit his lip in chagrin. “But if you won’t let me talk to your father, and you won’t let me take you away, then what would you have me do?”
She gazed at him in despair. “I own, I don’t know...unless...if anyone should talk to Papa, I should.”
“No, I should. I am not afraid of him.”
“I know you’re not, but given his hatred toward the Belingtons, t’would be better if I spoke to him alone. Given all the circumstances, he would have to say yes, wouldn’t he? Then I could have you, our baby, and my family, too.”
“The best of all worlds,” he said, smiling indulgently. “But have you the courage to confront your father?”
“To be sure, my knees will be shaking, but I shall just have to make myself brave. And perhaps, who knows? a miracle might occur and he’ll forgive me.”
A half smile crossed Alex’s face. “I fear I don’t share your optimism. Edgerton will never change. Hatred of the Belingtons has warped his soul.”
“Still, I can but try.”
“You’re sure you won’t run away with me to Gretna Green? It’s by far the best solution.”
“Positive.”
“All right, give it a try, but be careful. I’ll not rest a moment until you let me know the outcome.”
Hope fluttered in Alethea’s heart. Surely she could persuade Papa to let her marry Alex, especially if he knew about the baby. It seemed incredible, but after these past weeks of pure torment, perhaps, just perhaps, everything would be all right.
* * *
Lucinda, knees weak from the shock of her cousin’s news, sank to her bed and gazed at Alethea, attempting not to look too aghast. “A baby? Are you sure?”
“I am positive,” answered Alethea.
“But how did it happen? No, forget I asked that. I know how it happened, but I’m just...just...”
“Appalled?” supplied Alethea. She was huddled, downcast and miserable, on the settee in Lucinda’s bed chamber. “If you are appalled, just think how Papa will react.”
“Appalled is not the word, Alethea, I’m just...I must get used to the idea.” Lucinda felt as if her breath had been cut off, just thinking about what Cousin Edgerton’s reaction would be to Alethea’s news. She was tempted to ask, “How could you have been so foolish?” but seeing her cousin so forlorn and distraught, she curbed her words.
An expression of horror combined with dread covered Alethea’s face. “I must face my father, Lucinda. At first, I thought I could do it without a qualm, but the more I think about it, the more petrified I become. But I’ve got to tell him...oh, I’d almost rather die than face him!” She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands.
Lucinda moved next to her cousin on the settee and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. She asked gently, “Have you talked to Alex?”
Her face still buried, Alethea nodded vigorously. “He wants to marry me—take me off to Greta Green.”
“Then you should forget about talking to Edgerton. Just go. You love Alex, don’t you?”
Alethea gazed up, displaying her pale, strained face and tortured eyes. “Yes, but that’s not the point. If I run off, Papa will completely disown me. I can just hear him demanding that my name never be spoken in his presence again. He would never let me see Mama, or Charles, or Grandmama. I love my family. I cannot bear the thought of never seeing them again.”
Lucinda thought of her own family. “I can readily understand how you feel.”
“And then there’s Charles.” Alethea’s shoulders slumped with the weight of a long festering concern. “I can hardly stand to think of that poor little boy up there in that cold, lonely room. He’s such a bright little boy, so caring and full of fun—or he was. When he was smaller, he never seemed to mind how strict Papa was and how harshly Papa talked to him. Lately, though...well, you’ve seen how withdrawn he has become. It’s never been like him to sulk and be so unfriendly with everyone.” She sighed. “If only Papa would ease up, not criticize so much. It’s terrible, the things he says to Charles.”
“I can but agree.”
“Of course, no family is perfect.”
Mine is, Lucinda thought but had the good sense not to say. She had to constrain herself. Her impulse was not only to whole-heartily agree but to pour out her real feelings: that she could hardly stand it when Edgerton, in his mean, cruel manner castigated his son with no reason. “So what will you do?” she asked.
Alethea drew her frail shoulders back bravely. “I shall go to Papa. I won’t tell him about the baby, not at first. But I shall tell him about Alex and me and how we love each other and want to be married. I shall point out to him
that this feud between our families is ridiculous and that it’s time it came to an end.”
“And you think he will agree?” Lucinda was hard-put to hide her skepticism. Knowing Edgerton, she was convinced there was not a chance in the world this insufferable martinet could put aside his all-engulfing hatred of the Belingtons.
“I fear he won’t agree,” Alethea answered, “but I can try.” Her eyes lit. “Think how wonderful it would be if he did. Then Alex and I could marry and the baby might come a little early, but no one would ever know of a certainty.”
Lucinda almost smiled at her cousin’s blissful, but totally naive expectation. What a shame that life was not always filled with happy endings. But the sad, inexorable truth was, the chances of Edgerton’s changing his mind were the same as the sun not rising tomorrow. Alethea must be made aware of the truth. “What if your father does not agree?”
“Then I shall tell him about the baby.”
After saying those words, Alethea turned even paler, leaned back, and shut her eyes. “Oh, the very thought of it,” she said in an agonized whisper. “I told Alex I could do it, but now the prospect of telling Papa is so frightening I feel faint.”
Concerned, Lucinda put her arm around her cousin’s shoulders. “Come lie down. You look as if you really are about to faint.” When Alethea nodded weakly, Lucinda helped her to the bed where she fell on her side and drew up her knees, looking for all the world like a new-born in the fetal position. “I can’t, I can’t,” she whispered, “oh, what am I to do?”
Lucinda went to get a cool cloth to place on Alethea’s forehead. Sitting beside the bed, she applied the cloth, wondering what would happen if she had to go to her own father and confess all. How horrifying! It would be the most dreadful moment of her life. Loving and kind though Papa was, she could hardly bear to think of the humiliation and embarrassment she would feel, let alone having to witness the shock and dismay of both her parents, knowing she had caused the greatest grief they had ever known. But Edgerton? Telling him would be ten—a hundred times—worse. Poor Alethea, how could she possibly face that cruel, despotic excuse for a father?
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