The Selfless Sister

by Shirley Kennedy

  “But I worry that—”

  “It’s the only way, Cousin,” Lucinda interrupted forcefully, filling her voice with confidence. “We just need to get out of the woods. Try not to worry about your family. I have every confidence you’ll see them all again.”

  “I don’t see how,” moaned Alethea. “But I did leave a note for Papa, asking him to forgive me. I told him this was all my own doing, by the way. Nobody helped me. I made that clear.”

  At the moment, Lucinda felt small comfort from Alethea’s gesture, but she replied, “That’s thoughtful of you, Alethea. Let’s just hope I’ll be able to sneak back inside without difficulty and Edgerton won’t suspect a thing.”

  “That would be wonderful. I must admit, after this awful night, I don’t see how much worse could happen.” Alethea’s voice suddenly brightened. “But, oh! Lucinda! my heart fills with joy at the very thought of seeing my dearest Alex.”

  Lucinda wanted very much to say that dearest Alex should have controlled himself in the woods that day, but wisely refrained. They started again and for endless minutes stumbled along the dark path until at last the lights of Ravensbrook Manor came into view. “Almost there, let’s not stop a moment,” said Lucinda. She was exhausted and she knew Alethea must be too, but without hesitation she hastened, Alethea in tow, across the rolling lawn and mounted the marble steps of the Corinthian-pillared portico.

  A tall, white-haired butler answered the door. Despite the lateness of the hour, his face was impassive as he observed the two young women standing on his doorstep. His gaze shifted to the driveway. No carriage? Lucinda caught his barely lifted eyebrow which raised again, ever so slightly, when he also observed the two young ladies were alone, no chaperone in sight.

  Lucinda spoke up firmly. “We should like to see Mister Alex Belington, as well as Lord Belington. I trust they are home?” Before the butler could even begin to answer, she stepped into the entry hall, pulling Alethea in behind.

  Nonplused, the butler cleared his throat before he stuffily murmured, “I shall see if Lord Belington is receiving.”

  The wait provided Lucinda with the opportunity to reflect that here she was at last, in the grand entry-way of the fairy-tale castle she had dreamed about. Or was it not so much the mansion but the man who dwelt here who haunted her dreams? She wasn’t sure if Douglas would be here, but her heart jumped at the thought.

  Alex burst into the entryway. “Alethea,” he exclaimed, his face beaming with joy, “but how wonderful to see you. Does this mean—?”

  “Oh, Alex, I...I...” Looking pale and drawn, Alethea swayed, unable to get the words out.

  Lucinda quickly said, “She must talk to you, Alex, alone.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. We shall go to the study.” Alex placed a supporting arm around Alethea’s waist and led her off.

  Lucinda felt a great relief upon the realization that obviously Alex cared about Alethea, and their daring flight from Southfield was not in vain. As she stood wondering where to go and what to do next, she felt a prickly feeling on her neck. She sensed someone’s gaze fixed upon her and turned. Douglas was standing in a doorway. He was regarding her in a mildly curious manner, as if she and her cousin had just properly dropped in for tea, not appeared on foot, anxious, unchaperoned, at near midnight.

  He said, “Do come into the salon and warm yourself by the fire. Did you walk all the way?” She nodded. “It’s cold out tonight. You must be thoroughly chilled.” She searched for that half-mocking quality she half expected to see in his eyes, but tonight she saw nothing but sympathy and concern.

  “You came through the woods?” he inquired in the salon as he poured her a small glass of brandy. When she nodded, he commented, “Surely not in the dark.”

  She seated herself in a chair on one side of the fireplace and confirmed, “In the dark. We could not bring a lantern for fear...”

  “Edgerton might see you?”

  She nodded, feeling more and more comfortable because of his sympathetic attitude.

  He settled into a chair on the other side of the fireplace. “Tell me exactly what has happened.”

  Those sympathetic eyes of his made her want to relate every detail of Alethea’s dilemma, including the baby. That would not do, of course. She had been taught since childhood that a well-mannered lady must deign never to discuss such intimate matters. Blunt though she had been with Douglas in the past, she was aware that any mention of Alethea’s condition was completely beyond the pale. “There are certain matters I cannot discuss,” she demurred.

  “That’s hogwash,” he declared. “I know Alethea is with child, so why not discuss it?”

  She tried not to show how startled she was that a man had spoken those forbidden words, but it was obvious her involuntary little gasp had given her away.

  He continued softly, “Alex and I are quite close, so naturally I knew of the possibility. Frankly I could never understand why our society frowns on discussing what is in actually a perfectly natural function. What could be more marvelous than the miracle of birth, yet you ladies are compelled, for reasons that are beyond me, to go to great lengths to conceal the fact.” He grinned at her. “Now, if I were pregnant, I’d be strutting down St. James Street, extremely proud of myself.”

  The picture he conjured in her mind caused her to burst into laughter in which Douglas joined. What a relief to laugh after this stressful day! Finally she sat back in her chair, feeling much more relaxed. “You are perfectly correct. Alethea is with child. As you can imagine, she’s been quite desperate. Alex has indicated he wants to take her off to Gretna Green and marry her, so that’s what we came here to see about.”

  “I take it you’ve spoken to her father.”

  She smiled with irony. “Cousin Edgerton was less than pleased.” She went on to describe the horrible confrontation with Edgerton...his cruel proposal to send Alethea to the remote house in Scotland...his plan to remove the child so it would raised by impoverished peasants...then his plan to send Alethea to a convent where she would remain in a state of repentance for the rest of her life.

  Douglas listened carefully. When she was done, he remarked, “At least Edgerton is consistent. He’s been a tyrant all his life, so I’m not in the least surprised at what he’s planned for Alethea. He won’t have his way this time, though. My brother is madly in love with Alethea. They’ll be setting off for Gretna Green before the sun rises.” He suddenly smiled. “What a delight to have you here, despite the circumstances. You had mentioned once you’d like to see the inside of Ravenswood.”

  “But not quite in this manner.”

  The door burst open. Alex and Alethea bustled in, both grinning. “We’re off to Gretna Green,” Alex announced. He made a slight bow toward his brother. “With your permission of course.”

  Smiling, Douglas arose from his chair. “You know you have my blessing.”

  Alethea frowned. “Lord Belington, does it bother you that I’m a Linley?”

  “Not in the least. Your father may hold a grudge, but I can assure you, it’s not reciprocated.”

  At mention of her father, a shadow cross Alethea’s face. “We’re not Romeo and Juliet. I don’t want us to be like the Montagues and Capulets. I can only wish...”

  “You will see your family again,” said Lucinda. Something will happen—I’m not sure what—but I’ve a feeling you’ll be back in the bosom of your family before you know it.”

  * * *

  Not an hour passed before Alex and Alethea were in the coach, ready to depart for Gretna Green, both glowing with anticipation. Alethea leaned her head out the coach window and admonished, “You must hasten home, Lucinda. Papa must never know you were in any way involved.”

  “He won’t,” Lucinda assured her cousin, “I shall return immediately.” Standing next to Douglas on the wide steps of the portico, she waved a goodbye to the joyful couple as the elegant coach, its door encrusted with the Belington crest, rolled down the driveway and into the night.
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br />   “I’m so thrilled for them,” Lucinda exclaimed after the coach had disappeared from sight. “I pray everything will be all right.”

  “It had better be,” Douglas replied in a baleful voice. It was clear he had not forgotten Edgerton.

  “I must go.”

  Douglas slanted a glance at her. “I trust you’re not proposing to take the path through the woods again.”

  “It’s the way I came.” She thought of Edgerton and a moment of panic swept through her. “I must make haste. When Edgerton finds out Alethea is gone, I hate to even think of his fury. And if suspects I’m involved—”

  “He won’t find out, not if you chose not to tell him. And by the way, you are not returning through the woods.” Douglas turned to the butler who hovered nearby. “Carter, tell Pitney to hitch the gig and bring it around. Then you had best get to bed.” He addressed Lucinda. “I know you must go, but a few minutes more won’t matter. Please, come inside. Carter, would you take her cloak?”

  Why, he’s just reminded me of Papa! Lucinda thought as she threw off her cloak and handed it to the butler. Douglas’s solicitude toward his servant brought back memories of her father’s unerring consideration for his serving staff. She had always assumed that all servants were treated with respect until she came to Southfield and saw how Edgerton kept his butler and valet up all night if it suited him, and without a qualm. “I had best not stay long,” she said without conviction. She realized she wanted to stay. Not only did she want to see more of Ravensbrook, she wanted to see more of Douglas.

  “Stop worrying,” said Douglas. “I shall make sure you get home in good time. Meanwhile, come with me.” She did not resist as he took her arm and led her into a huge, cavernous room with thick stone walls lined with suits of armor and hung with elaborate tapestries. ”This is the great chamber,” Douglas said, “built originally by Sir Thomas Edgecome who died in thirteen-hundred-something. We also have an exquisite early fourteenth century chapel with elaborate tracery that I’ll show you another time—and much more, actually. But this great chamber is the best. It’s the heart of the castle.”

  As she glanced around, she could not help but note the pride that was obvious in his voice. Here was a side of the man she had never seen before. It was obvious he cared more for his ancestral home than he cared to admit. “How lucky you were to grow up in a real castle.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, sounding a touch wistful. “A castle like this is the stuff dreams are made of, and, yes, a wonderful place for a child to play. My father took a different view, though. He called Ravensbrook, ‘an historic document of supreme value.’ He used to say it reminds us not only of the achievements of our medieval ancestors, but also, when you look upon the way it’s built—those battlements, those slits in the walls for arrows—you’re aware of the barbaric and brutal nature of the world in which they lived.”

  “There’s food for thought,” she replied, thinking, another surprise. The man she thought cared for nothing except an indolent life in London, except when he was out in the woods slaughtering birds, had just shown he was capable of deep, sensitive thought.

  “Come warm your hands,” he said, guiding her to the wonderfully sculpted heraldic stone fireplace.

  She thrust her hands as close to the flames as she could, welcoming their warmth. “I would love to see every inch of this castle some time when...” she remembered the reason she was here “...under better circumstances.”

  Douglas smiled. “I would be more than honored to show you. Did you know we even have a buttery?”

  “Where they made butter?”

  “Every house of any size had a buttery where ale and wine were kept, all under the supervision of a yeoman of the buttery.”

  “Ah, in other words, the butler?”

  He nodded and gestured toward a dais at the other end. “That’s where the lord of the manor used to sit in his stately chair and receive tribute from his tenants.” He laughed and continued, “Lords were much more lordly back then. If I tried that now, my tenants would think I’d gone daft. And privacy wasn’t an issue in the thirteen hundreds. Behind the dais there would have been no more than a leather curtain to divide off the lord’s sleeping area.” He glanced upward. “There used to be a vaulted roof with elaborate high-braced arches. It’s hidden from view now, thanks to one of my less-than-brilliant ancestors. He installed an attic. In so doing, he concealed the beautiful wood-carved arches with this low ceiling.”

  “Ah, the attic,” she said, remembering what Lady Perry had said. “Is there really a ghost?”

  “So you’ve heard of Sir Giles,” he said, laughing again. She noticed that his laugh produced charming dimples in his cheeks, a fact she’d not noticed before, or perhaps she had never seen him laugh like this before. He continued lightly, “Alas, I have never seen the ghost, nor has anyone in my family. It appears Sir Giles saves his ghostly apparitions for the servants.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Except for some sort of white, diaphanous murkiness, he’s invisible. According to the servants, he mainly makes his presence known by a series of moans and the clanking of chains, or some such rot. We used to keep the attic locked, but not anymore. It wasn’t necessary because the servants make a point to steer clear of it.” He drew closer and said softly, “As far as they’re concerned, it’s as if the devil himself lived over our heads.”

  His nearness was troublesome and becoming more so. She found his presence overwhelming as he stood there looking at her with that crooked grin on his face. Now, in the dimness of the great hall, in the light cast by flickering flames from the fireplace, she was so conscious of his so very masculine presence, she was finding it hard to breathe with any sense of normality.

  His gaze roved and lazily appraised her. “I know what’s going through your head.”

  “Do tell,” she said lightly, concealing her chagrin that anyone, especially Lord Belington, might know what she was thinking.

  “Tonight you find yourself a woman alone, in the home of a man who is nearly a stranger, and ”—there was a slight twinkle in his eye—”horror of horrors, completely unchaperoned.”

  “That’s society’s problem, not mine,” she countered. “You, yourself, said how silly we were not to acknowledge that women have babies. Well, I’ve always thought it totally silly that society decrees a young woman must be chaperoned twenty-four hours a day just because she’s single.” She sniffed indignantly. “If I don’t know how to take care of myself by now then I never shall.”

  He answered smoothly, “I admire your honesty.” He stepped closer. “Among other things.” The intimacy of his action caused her to drawn in a sharp, silent breath and her heart to beat faster. He went on, “Do you remember our kiss?” On what seemed to be a sudden impulse, he gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She noticed his breath was coming faster. “I have not forgotten. I keep thinking of it.”

  “So do I.” Now why had she said that? A girl was supposed to pretend indifference. With a jolt she remembered her appearance. Earlier, she’d been so concerned with sneaking Alethea out of Southfield, she’d had no time to run a comb through her hair or even look at herself in a mirror. And this plain blue muslin gown she was wearing was far from her best. How bedraggled she must look!

  His heart pounding, Douglas watched Lucinda reach to smooth her hair. “Don’t bother.” He took her hand. “You look beautiful. I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to see you again.” He wasn’t lying. Her unexpected presence had shaken him to the core, so much so he’d been hard-put to act the casual host. Now, as he looked into her large, expressive eyes and touched her velvety smooth hand, he knew he wanted her. No sense analyzing why he wanted her, he just did, and desperately. “Lucinda,” he whispered, and drew her close, placing his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes, savoring the sweet lavender of her scent.

  For a moment, she allowed herself to nestle in his arms. Then she pulled back and regarded him with an e
xpression so full of concern it wrenched his heart. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said. She pulled farther away. “We can’t do this.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because of Edgerton. Don’t you think one hasty elopement is enough? How much scandal can the countryside stand?”

  In frustration, he gripped her shoulders and shoved her to arms’ length. “That’s all you care about—the scandal?”

  “Of course not,” she cried, “but I worry about the effect all this will have on my family. Aside from Edgerton, I can only imagine how devastated Alethea’s mother will be when she hears Alethea has not only eloped, but with a Belington. His grandmother, too, will be devastated. How could I possibly add to their grief?”

  He was well aware she was only being reasonable, yet his customary predilection toward keen, sensible reasoning had vanished as he looked down at her and saw the gentle swell of her breasts beneath the folds of her blue gown. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that the meticulous caution he always applied to his dealings with women had just been cast aside with the utmost abandon. Damme, I don’t care, he thought, as he bent to possess the lips of the one woman in the world he should avoid like the plague.

  Feeling Douglas’s lips on hers, Lucinda wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer in complete surrender. She ached for his touch as she thought, he does care. She was not sure why she should feel so jubilant, considering Douglas was the last person on this earth she should be involved with, but just the same, she felt a vast gratification that she was again in his arms. She had no idea how long the kiss continued. All she knew was that she was growing increasingly warm all over and that never, in her entire skimpy history of kissing men, had she ever pressed against a man so tightly that she felt every hard inch of him. And reveled in the feel, she thought, as with a moan, he at last raised his lips and half lifting her, settled onto the settee in front of the fireplace, cradling her on his lap, holding her snugly in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him, knowing, not caring, that the glint of eager passion must surely be showing in her eyes. “How beautiful you are,” he whispered, voice husky with passion. “I know we shouldn’t, but—”