The Selfless Sister

by Shirley Kennedy

  “Althea, are you sure you cannot just run off with Alex?”

  “No,” the young girl cried, “I would rather die than never see my family again.”

  That left only one thing to do. Alethea could not possibly face her father in this condition. Therefore ...Lucinda hated the thought but might as well face it...she would have to speak to Edgerton myself. Alethea was at the breaking point. There was nothing to be gained from her going to her father and confessing all. In fact, in the state she was in, she would probably make a worse mess of it, if that was possible. So I shall do it all myself, Lucinda thought with dismay. There was no one else she could turn to. Pernelia was too vague, Jane too weak, Sarah...no need even to consider a woman whose main interest in life was her embroidery.

  Lucinda patted her cousin’s arm. “Stop worrying. I shall go to your father myself.”

  Round-eyed, Alethea gazed up at her with beseeching eyes. “You will? You would do that for me?” She clutched Lucinda’s hand. “Thank you! How brave of you!”

  “Better I than you,” Lucinda answered, trying to sound light-hearted but not succeeding very well. “Now let me see, you want me first to tell him that you and Alex are in love and wish to marry, is that right?” Alethea nodded. “You want his approval, but then, if he says no, I am to remind him that the tragedy happened twenty-five years ago and it’s time to bury old hostilities.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Then tell him about the baby.”

  “Then duck and wait for the explosion,” Lucinda answered with an ironic smile.

  Alethea weakly shook her head. “There won’t be an explosion. The angrier Papa becomes, the quieter. If there’s dead silence, you will know I am doomed. But whatever happens, I shall be grateful to you ‘til the day I die.”

  “It’s nothing. I don’t mind one bit.” Those lies said, Lucinda felt a wave of fear wash over her. How she dreaded facing Edgerton! But she had given her word. Honor alone would keep her from changing her mind.

  Later, after Alethea had gone, Lucinda again imagined herself in Alethea’s situation. But she knew of a certainty she would never allow such a dreadful circumstance to happen. Not that she would ever dream of condemning her cousin, but never would she be so careless, or lose control in such a wanton way. She recalled her own various beaus, none of whom she’d ever truly loved. Of course, there had been occasions when there had been a furtive holding of hands, and a few stolen kisses, generally in someone’s garden, or a vacant library. The kisses had been pleasant enough but certainly nothing earth-shaking. Nor will they ever be, she thought with resignation. There was only one exception, which she had deliberately not brought to mind, but despite herself, she found herself thinking of Lord Belington and that kiss he gave her in the woods the other day. It was the first time in all her twenty-six years she had known anything close to real passion. Before that moment, she could not even imagine how a man could arouse a woman to such heights she would throw away her reputation, as well as everything else she held dear in her life. Now she saw how easily it could happen. But it won’t ever let that happen to me, she thought grimly. Never would she allow herself to get swept away like poor, weak Alethea.

  All the same, despite her cousin’s impending disgrace, deep inside, hardly admitting it to herself, Lucinda felt a wave of envy.

  * * *

  Lucinda planned to speak to Cousin Edgerton after dinner that night. Because he was a man of precise habits whose schedule never varied, she knew she would find him in his study going over his accounts. Edgerton was so unlike her father, she mused, as she walked down the hallway toward the study. Papa never held to a rigid schedule in all his life.

  She was angry with herself as she prepared to knock on Edgerton’s study door. Why was it that her mind could tell her to stay perfectly calm, but her body acted otherwise? She commanded her heart not to pound, yet it was hammering in her chest. She willed her palms not to moisten, yet here she was, wiping the dampness on her skirt. And although she’d commanded herself to stay serene and brave, her stomach clenched with fear. He’s only one man, she told herself, insensitive—churlish—but unfortunately for all, in this house he held the power.

  She took a breath and knocked.

  “Come!” Edgerton called in his usual curt fashion.

  When she entered, she saw he was seated at his desk, frowning over his accounts, just as she expected. Be bold. “Good evening, Cousin Edgerton.” Good. Despite all, her voice was steady as a rock.

  He looked up, his down-curved mouth rigid. “As you should know, I reserve this hour for my accounts, Cousin Lucinda. Was it something urgent?”

  “Yes.” She walked purposefully to the chair across from his desk and with determined confidence seated herself. “I wish to discuss a matter of the utmost importance.”

  That caught his attention. Edgerton set his quill pen down and settled back, steepling his fingers. “So commence.” He waited, his flat, hard, passionless eyes boring into her.

  “I...” A lump arose in her throat preventing her from speaking. But you must, she told herself, and knowing she must, she called upon a well of confidence she knew dwelled deep within herself and found her voice. “Cousin Edgerton, I know little of the old tragedy that seems to haunt this family, but I must speak of it because an event has occurred that is directly connected to...shall we say, the aftermath of the tragedy.”

  “Do go on.” Edgerton sat seemingly relaxed, yet she sensed his avid attention to her every word..

  Flat-out honesty was best. “Your daughter has fallen in love with Alex Wyndham.” She paused, waiting for Edgerton’s reaction. Despite what Alethea said, she expected him to erupt in some kind of fury. But no. Edgerton’s expression remained unmoved. She could not detect so much as a twitch.

  “And Alex is in love with her?” Edgerton carefully enunciated each word in a voice smooth as marble.

  “And he with her,” she affirmed. “They are madly in love, sir, and wish to marry, with your blessing, of course.”

  “So why can’t Alex speak for himself?”

  Her impulse was to reply, “Alex isn’t speaking for himself because of the distinct possibility you might shoot him dead if he so much as appeared at your door.” However, she stopped herself. Now she groped for words. “He very much wanted to speak for himself, but under the circumstances, Alethea thought it best that she speak to you herself. But then... she’s not feeling well, you see, so here I am, speaking for her.” And making a mess of it, she reflected bleakly, angry at herself. She must stop bumbling and stumbling. She must remember that Edgerton was not God, but only another human being—and a pitiful excuse for one at that.

  Edgerton lifted the corners of his lips in the semblance of a smile. “My dear Cousin Lucinda, you do realize that under no circumstances would I ever allow a daughter of mine to marry a Belington.” He picked up his quill pen. His gaze dropped to the accounting book on the desk in front of him. “So you may go inform Alethea of my decision.” After a moment, annoyed, he raised his eyes again. Lucinda could see the anger burning deep within. “You may also tell my daughter we will soon have a discussion concerning her utmost...” his chest heaved with anger “...stupidity in falling in love with a Belington. I warned her before. Rest assured, her ill-conceived actions will not go unpunished.”

  It was difficult, trying not to quail before Edgerton’s overwhelming rancor, but she would try once more before she had to—oh, how she dreaded it!—reveal Alethea’s delicate condition. “You do realize that Alex was only one year old when the tragedy occurred?”

  “I am aware of it.”

  “So he can hardly be held in any way responsible.”

  “He’s a Belington, is he not?” Edgerton inquired in a voice icy calm. Too calm.

  “But twenty-five years is a long time. Don’t you think—?”

  “Enough!” Edgerton retorted through gritted teeth. “One more word from you, and I’ll
send you packing—back to that lily-livered, mealy-mouthed father of yours.”

  Lucinda clenched her fists. She must not lose her temper, much as Edgerton goaded her. There were more important issues at stake here. But God’s blood! Now she’d have to tell all, and judging from Edgerton’s utterly inflexible attitude thus far, the delicate situation did not bode well. “There’s something else,” she began. With her heart pounding in her chest, she continued, “It appears that...it seems that...” Ah, so hard to say, but she’d best come right out and say it. “Alethea is with child.”

  In the ominous silence that followed, Lucinda could almost hear her heart beat as she waited, hanging onto her fragile control, as Edgerton sat motionless, his face a mask. Finally in a toneless voice he said, “Where is she?”

  “In her room.”

  “Send her to me.”

  “But she really doesn’t feel well. She—”

  “Enough. Hold your tongue.” Edgerton arose from his chair, his stony expression replaced by one of absolute fury. “You will send her to me now,” he said in a shaking voice.

  “Yes, Cousin Edgerton.”

  Heartsick, Lucinda left the room knowing she had failed miserably. What folly to think that Edgerton could be persuaded to bless Alethea’s marriage to a Belington! Now she must go tell Alethea—send her into the lion’s den. Never had she felt like such a failure. What would Edgerton do to his daughter? It would most likely be something awful, but there was no use in even guessing what.

  * * *

  It was worse than ever she expected. Sending a trembling Alethea to her father was bad enough, but now she was back, and had come to Lucinda’s bed chamber, her blue eyes, always so merry, now full of the tortured dullness of disbelief.

  “He’s sending me to Scotland,” Alethea announced in a choking voice. “To the castle of some distant relative I’ve never heard of.

  “Scotland?” A warning bell sounding in Lucinda’s head.

  Alethea continued, “You are aware, are you not, of the Scottish side of the family? Angus McNeill is my uncle—great-uncle, actually, and so he would be your uncle, too”

  “Not the miserly old Scotchman,” Lucinda exclaimed. She recalled the many times her father had threatened to send her or one of her sisters to “your skinflint Uncle,” who apparently led a miserly life on his “dank, dark estate” somewhere in Scotland. Papa had been joking, of course. Never had they taken him seriously. “I have heard of Uncle Angus. He does indeed live in Scotland, but from what I understand, in conditions that are most...well, adverse is what I’ve heard. Surely your father wouldn’t—”

  “He has,” Alethea stated grimly. “I have heard Uncle Angus’s home is quite remote, and primitive. I am to be sent there immediately.”

  “And the child?”

  “You think my father cares what happens to Alex’s child?” Alethea asked with a bitter laugh. “I am to stay with Uncle Angus until the baby is born. It will then be adopted out. My uncle must see to it the baby is placed with a suitable peasant family, and by suitable he means a family that’s dirt poor. It seems Papa wants the son of a Belington to grow up slopping pigs and plowing the rocky ground.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Lucinda said, shuddering inwardly at the bleak image that came of mind.

  “Oh, there’s more.” Alethea was beyond tears now. She looked numb. “I am never to return to Southfield.”

  “Where shall you go?”

  “To a convent, where I shall spend the rest of my life in prayer, begging forgiveness for my terrible sin.”

  Lucinda was appalled, almost at a loss for words. “I can hardly believe even Edgerton would say such things.”

  “Well, he did.” In a despairing voice, Alethea whispered, “I must go pack my things. I leave at the crack of dawn for Scotland, never to return. Oh, Lucinda, I shall never see Alex or my family again!”

  As Alethea collapsed on the bed, limp and sobbing, Lucinda fought her urge to rush to the study and berate Edgerton as he deserved. But what good would it do? Nothing on earth would make him change his mind.

  It was outrageous to think Alethea would be sent to Scotland. Such an injustice, all committed by a madman, was not to be endured. Therefore, something must be done, and, she thought with fearful clarity, there was only one thing to do. She grabbed Alethea’s shoulders as she sat slumped and sobbing on the bed and pulled her straight.

  “You are not going to Scotland.”

  “I’m not?” Alethea asked through her tears.

  “Indeed you are not. This very night, you are eloping to Gretna Green with Alex.”

  Alethea looked confused. “Now? Tonight?”

  “Yes, tonight, and we must be swift.”

  “But how—?”

  “You must pack a few things. Then we shall take a shortcut through the woods to Ravensbrook Manor. You said Alex wanted to marry you, did you not? Then marry you he shall.”

  Alethea stumbled to her feet. “But what of you? If Papa finds out...”

  “He won’t. I’ll be back well before dawn. With a little luck, your father will never know I helped you. Now, go to your bed chamber, pack your portmanteaus—two should suffice, you can’t take much—and I shall be with you in a minute.”

  “Oh, Lucinda!” Alethea cried, “I had thought the end of the world had come, but if this works I shall be the happiest girl on earth.”

  “Of course it will work. Why should you think it wouldn’t?”

  “Papa. He always finds out everything. Half the servants are his spies, I know they are.”

  Lucinda felt a stab of fear, just thinking about how Edgerton might apprehend them. It could be quite awful, but she must assure Alethea how safe her plan would be. “If we’re quiet—if you tell no one—we have a good chance, Alethea. Isn’t it worth a try, especially when you consider the alternative?”

  “You’re right. I shan’t be afraid!” A ray of hope gleaming in her eye, Alethea hastened from the room. Lucinda sank to the settee, taking a moment to consider the ramifications of what she was about to do. Unbidden, a whole load of dire possibilities swirled through her head. Of course, Edgerton would be furious with her if he found out. No question, he would send her home, and that would be horribly humiliating. Papa would be nice, of course, and Mama, too, but everyone would know she had failed. Then there was Aunt Pernelia, who needed her desperately. Before she had arrived, Lucinda was curious as to why Pernelia had need of a companion when there were three females in the house. Now she knew, and liked to think that with the love and attention she showered on her aunt, she had brought her back, if not to complete reality, then close. Perhaps Pernelia was still a little vague, but not nearly as bad as she used to be.

  All that effort would be wasted, though, if she had to leave.

  No time now. She would think about it later. Springing from the couch, she grabbed her kerseymere cloak and hurried to Alethea’s room where she found her cousin scurrying about, frantically packing.

  When Alethea finished, she announced in a quavering voice,” I’m ready, Lucinda.” She added with a touch of whimsy, “I do believe I shall elope with Alex tonight. So let us be off to Ravensbrook Manor.”

  It was then Lucinda was struck by the thought that she was actually going to the fairy-tale castle, that mysterious place where the tragedy had occurred and where dwelled—her heart jumped—Douglas, Lord Belington. Would he be there? And if he was, how would he act? And how would she act? The thought of seeing him again shot a warm glow through her. Then she admonished herself. How utterly self-centered to be thinking of herself at a time like this.

  Chapter 13

  In pitch blackness, Lucinda, followed by Alethea, made their way with difficulty along the rocky path. Stumbling, Lucinda reflected upon how easy it was to scramble over a slab of limestone rock when the sun was shining, and how difficult in the dead of night when the friendly path transformed itself into a dark trail full of perilous obstacles. She was well aware that the murky objects
hulking overhead were nothing more than the trees she hardly noticed in the daytime. But now, in the pitch black night, despite what her common sense told her, they loomed like shapeless, unnamed monsters, ready to pounce. Not even a friendly bird call. The birds that filled the day with joyful chirping had long since gone to sleep. Only the hooting of an owl pierced the stillness, along with the occasional eerie whispering of a breeze stirring the trees. For Alethea’s benefit, Lucinda tried her best to act confident as she walked ahead on the narrow path, carrying one of the two small portmanteaus Alethea had packed. She tripped on something—heaven knew what, and nearly fell.

  From behind her, Alethea whispered anxiously, “Are you all right?”

  “Just fine.” Lucinda was hard-put to keep the fright from her voice.

  “Please stop a minute. It’s so dark and I’m so scared.”

  Lucinda gratefully halted and dropped the portmanteau. She placed a comforting arm around her trembling cousin. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, but it won’t be much longer.”

  “You’re wonderful to do this for me,” cried Alethea. “If only we could have taken the carriage! Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

  “How could we have hitched up the curricle by ourselves?” At Alethea’s silence, Lucinda gently reminded her, “We couldn’t have asked the servants. You know very well one or another would surely have tattled to your father. We had no choice but to take the path.” Lucinda gripped her cousin’s quaking shoulders. “But don’t worry, only a few minutes more and we’ll be there.”