The Kent Heiress

by Roberta Gellis

  The post chaise came, and Sabrina stepped into it. Katy fussed around her, putting hot bricks at her feet and a rug over her knees. Sabrina thanked her and even discussed where the basket of delicacies and wine—a thoughtful touch on William’s part, which made Sabrina more uncomfortable—should best be placed. She hardly heard her own voice. She felt like one of those strange automata that made sounds without life. If only she could make up her mind what to do! She had been so sure when she parted with Perce. Being with him always seemed the only important goal. But she had had time to think on the voyage; there had been little else to do. Now her path did not seem so clear at all. Nothing really answered whether Perce was truly in love or just caught up in an infatuation caused by the circumstances.

  Sabrina did not doubt the genuineness of his sexual excitement when he seized her and kissed her. The desire had been real enough and hot enough, but that was common in men. And it had cooled very quickly. He had said he wanted her, but followed the statement with rather frequent reminders of the unpleasant consequences of a break with her husband. And he had been very quick to renounce the possibility of pursuing a love affair. That didn’t seem natural in a man.

  Not natural for a man like William, perhaps, but was it unnatural for Perce? Everything she remembered could easily be the result of real love, the kind that considered one’s partner’s needs before one’s own. But Sabrina had no personal experience with that kind of love. She had seen it. Roger and Leonie had it, and so did Meg and Philip. She suppressed a shudder. Whose fault was it? Was it because of what William was that she could not believe in that kind of love for herself, or was it because of what she was herself?

  Only Sabrina knew Perce responded to her emotions even when she tried to hide them. He had seen how she hated the fright Katy’s voice had given her. Katy! How could she be afraid of Katy? She knew Katy would lie for her, probably would die for her. It was because she was ashamed. She didn’t want even Katy to know that she considered being unfaithful to her husband. Considered being? She was unfaithful—her mind was, and her body would be gladly if it had a chance.

  Perce said it wasn’t the way. Because he didn’t really want to be committed? How could she know? Oh, nonsense! That first night at the ball, the words had just burst out of him. Accept that, Sabrina told herself. It’s stupid to pick Perce apart. It’s stupid to think he could be so idiotic, so cruel, as deliberately to continue a farce of love. Accept that he is as truly in love with you as you are with him. Does it make anything easier?

  In a sense it did. The problem reduced itself immediately to a single question. Which did Sabrina want more, the life to which she was accustomed, or Perce? And the answer to that was easy—Perce. Somehow he would make life interesting for her, even if they had to emigrate to find excitement.

  But the simplicity was deceptive. To get Perce, an annulment of her marriage would have to be obtained. To obtain an annulment one needed grounds, even false grounds. Roger would have to cook up the grounds since none of the common ones could be used. She was not barren; she had conceived and miscarried. Thus her husband had done his marital duty and could not be accused of denying her her natural rights. William would have to cooperate, too. Sabrina shuddered.

  That was a mistake. Katy began to fuss at once. Sabrina felt like screaming at her, but she bit back her irritability and agreed that the cold in England was different from that in Russia, less cold but more penetrating. Sabrina even knew why Katy was fussing, which was not normal for her. Obviously she sensed Sabrina’s misery. Why can’t I be like everyone else and accept my husband for what he is, Sabrina thought. She was going to make every single person who loved her utterly miserable.

  Even William! Sabrina restrained another shudder. The first whisper of an annulment would turn his full attention to her. He would woo and plead and show the world a totally devoted husband, bewildered and hurt. He would never agree. In his way, she supposed, William did love her. She was his safe harbor, the place to which he returned from his adventuring. He expected her to bear his children—and she had to admit he had been most understanding, not railing at her or blaming her when she lost the child—to act as his hostess, and to support his diplomatic activities. He did not ask love of her. Society would consider him a near ideal husband and her a fool for objecting to a little affair now and again.

  There really was no hope of an annulment, Sabrina feared, unless Roger could bring some violent pressure to bear on William. And how Roger would hate that! Although he would have preferred a more settled sort for Sabrina’s husband, essentially, Roger liked William as a man. What was worse, he would be devastated by knowing that Sabrina’s marriage was so unhappy that she would risk social ostracism to escape it. Leonie, too! Both would blame themselves for Sabrina’s unhappiness. And their distress would, be all the bitterer because to a certain degree it was their fault.

  No, Sabrina thought, I cannot, simply cannot do this to them. They love me too much. Do they deserve to be punished for that? I can bear remaining married to William. It will grow easier with time. I will have many, many pleasures. Her mind checked there, having received a sharp nudge from her body. She would not have Perce, and he would not have her…if he wanted her. Oh, no! Not again! She would not begin at the beginning all over again.

  Determinedly, Sabrina pushed all problems out of her mind and began to talk to Katy of the possibility that Leonie would be at Stour. They reminisced of other winters spent at the castle, of the various amusements available, whether they had missed Lady St. Eyre’s annual ball. Katy perked up visibly as Sabrina talked and smiled. Home would heal her, Katy hoped, pushing away the knowledge that home could not change her husband’s character or reduce Sabrina’s passion for another man.

  Although both suppositions were true, Sabrina did feel better as soon as the porter in the gatehouse had opened the park gates. He exclaimed in surprise, but gave Sabrina the welcome news that Leonie was in residence, and the horses started up the long, curving drive to Stour Castle. Sabrina could see that the “wilderness” Leonie had planted in the southeast was doing well. The entrance was a good half mile from it, but one could see the trees quite clearly. They had been too small to be seen from the entrance the last time Sabrina had been home. A renewed quiver of unhappiness passed through her. It was wrong to think of Stour as “home”. Elvan Manor should be “home”, but Sabrina had never developed any affection for that most elegant and commodious house.

  Warmth enveloped her as she thought of Stour’s wild mixture of architectural styles, its myriad confusing passageways, towers, nooks and crannies. It was so large that she had become really lost in the top-story warren of rooms while playing hide-and-seek with the boys. Of course, that was not long after she had come to Stour from the island. Warm comfort changed to a flash of passionate heat as she remembered how Perce had found her and held her close to him, kissing her to comfort her. She knew there was no more in those kisses than what he bestowed upon his sisters, but she wondered how she had been such a fool. No, she had simply been too young. There was no sense thinking about it.

  And there at the end of the long drive was the beautiful Inigo Jones front, graceful and plain with Corinthian pilasters. To either side were the older portions, Elizabethan wings with projecting mullioned windows, carved cornices and ornamental doorways. Each wing terminated in a strong octagonal tower, the walls immensely thick and the windows only thin slits. The rooms in the towers were used only when Stour was overfull. They had been places of refuge in case of attack, not meant for residence. However, there was plenty of room without them.

  When they pulled up at the portico Sabrina was too impatient to wait. She got out at once and was running up the steps as Cobworth, the butler, opened the door.

  “Lady Sabrina!” he exclaimed. “Oh, pardon me, Lady Elvan. How glad we all are to see you home.”

  “And I to be here, Cobworth. Where is Lady Leonie?”

  “In the small drawing room, ma
dam, unless she is back in the nursery again. Mr. Philip left little Master Roger with us while—”

  “Sabrina!” Leonie shrieked, rushing out of a doorway down the corridor. “Petite, petite, bienvenue, bienvenue.”

  Fortunately Sabrina had divested herself of her outerwear while Cobworth gave her the most essential family news. She was thus free to embrace and be embraced without having her arm half in and half out of her pelisse or having her bonnet knocked to the floor. There was no tame pecking of cheeks or squeezing of fingers in Leonie’s welcomes.

  “Ah,” Leonie sighed after hugging and being hugged, kissing and being kissed, “ Que je suis heureuse! How happy I am! I knew William was sent for, but I did not know whether you, too, would come. And Katy?”

  “She’s seeing to the luggage. You know she insists on doing things like that. I’m so sorry to hear that Meg and Philip aren’t here.”

  “No Meg’s poor papa, he leaves us at last. The good doctor, he wrote to ask Meg to come. Her papa has been asking for her, the doctor said. It cannot be much of a grief to her, but of course she would wish that he should be as easy as possible.

  “So you have Roggie all to yourself,” Sabrina teased. “How is he?”

  “Wicked! Oh, how could it be otherwise with that naughty Philip for a papa and that Meg with her red hair for a mama? Come up and see for yourself. No, better come and have a cup of tea. Dinner is early—six o’clock—but you must be cold.”

  “I am a little chilled,” Sabrina admitted, but can’t we have tea in the nursery? Do you have a tartar for a nurse?”

  “Not at all, but Roggie should be taking his afternoon nap, and Weeper—is not that a dreadful name for a nurse—good as she is, would be furious if we wake him. Nor would I blame her. He is cross as two sticks if he does not sleep.”

  She led Sabrina to the room in which she had been sitting, rang for tea, urged Sabrina to a chair by the fire, then stood back just to look at her. In a moment the expression of excited pleasure faded. “Ah, qu’as-tu?” Leonie cried. “ Ma petite, what is wrong?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “ Stupide! Bête! Like a fool I talk of the child, and—”

  “No!” Sabrina protested. “Leonie, for heaven’s sake, do you think I don’t love Roggie? I swear I’m not grieving over that miscarriage. It wasn’t ever real to me. I mean, I hadn’t thought of it as a child yet.”

  It was true. Oddly enough, she hadn’t known she was pregnant until about a week before she miscarried. Just about the time she missed her first flux, there had been a political crisis. When it was over, she had forgotten she had not menstruated. Then at the time she missed her second flux, she had realized that William was growing restless again. He had not quite fixed on a woman, but he was, quite obviously, looking. The miscarriage had checked him. Sabrina had to admit there was nothing mean about William. He had given her his full attention for several months, as if to prove he did not blame her.

  “Then what is wrong?” Leonie asked.

  Sabrina’s heart failed. She couldn’t, she simply couldn’t tell Leonie the truth and see the guilt and pain in her beautiful golden eyes. “How can you ask?’ she protested. “It was the most horrible passage, freezing cold and wet and not enough room for a mouse to turn. It was rough too, and the ship was so small. It pitched and rolled—”

  “Brina,” Leonie interrupted, “you have sailed with Philip and Perce in a—a cockleshell and loved every minute of it.”

  “Not in the middle of the winter or for weeks at a time,” Sabrina said reasonably, smiling.

  “Petite,” Leonie sighed, “it is not mal de mer in your eyes.” She shook her head. “There is only one thing I think, you should not wish to tell me, because it is my fault you suffer. It is William.” She covered her eyes for a moment.

  “It’s my fault, not yours,” Sabrina said quickly. “It’s not a fault to want someone you love to be happy.”

  “It is the duty of the elder to guide the younger. Do I give Roggie a sharp knife because he cries for the shiny thing? Oh, Brina, Brina… But it was not only giving in because I could not bear to see you cry. It was Roger who fooled me.”

  “Roger?” Sabrina knew Roger liked William in a general way, but he had never favored the marriage. He had opposed it more vigorously than Leonie at first, and had yielded less willingly.

  “Because Roger was a great one for women before we were married. Do you see? He was not happy with Solange, his first wife, and he sought out others, many others. And I believed William would be the same, that he had had enough of affaires. Oh, petite, we inquired and inquired, and never before had William looked seriously at a young girl. And in many ways, Brina, you were not like other young girls. We waited, thinking he would weary, or you would. But he was so steadfast and spoke so reasonably to Roger…”

  “I know. Don’t blame yourself, Leonie. You told me he had had many affairs. Roger told me. Even Philip told me. I talked to him about it myself. He swore to me that those days were over for him, that his love for me was true. Leonie, I don’t think he was lying. I think he believed I would be his last, true love.” Sabrina laughed bitterly. “Maybe he believes it each time.”

  Leonie blinked back tears. It would do no good to weep. “Eh bien, petite, then what do you wish to do? We will help you any way, vraiment.”

  “I don’t know. Leonie, don’t cry. You mustn’t think I’m suffering. At least, I’m not suffering the pangs of ‘despised’ love. I can stop William any time I want. I just…don’t care…not about him. I just suddenly realized…he isn’t worth the effort. That’s dreadful, isn’t it? That’s what’s really dreadful.”

  “Not about him!” Leonie picked out the significant part of the statement unerringly.

  Sabrina blushed painfully and shook her head. Before she could speak the door opened and Cobworth brought in a tea tray. He made a business of setting it on a table, which he carried to Leonie’s side, and of laying out cups, cakes, biscuits and thin sandwiches. By the time he left, Sabrina’s complexion had returned to normal, and she had decided what to say. She would not mention Perce. That would be unfair to him. If things did not work out between them, she did not want any awkwardness or coldness to rise toward him from her family. Sabrina got up and took a sandwich and the cup of tea Leonie had automatically poured for her.

  “I’m not having an affair myself, I promise you,” she said quietly. “And I want you to be sure that William and I are not quarreling. There is no bitterness. I can’t be bitter about someone who isn’t worth the effort of holding. Or, if I am bitter, it’s at myself for being such a fool. William is what he is—and he is never unkind. None of the affairs means anything once it is over.”

  There was a brief silence. Then Leonie asked bluntly, “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “Of course not,” Sabrina snapped. “Do you think I would take the leavings of another woman?”

  “But you said none of the affairs means anything—” Leonie began.

  “And neither do I anymore,” Sabrina interrupted stonily.

  “Petite, you cannot live in this way for long,” Leonie said.

  “Perhaps not,” Sabrina admitted, and hesitated.

  Should she mention the idea of an annulment? But it might take a long time, and once the action was started it would be out of the question for her to accompany William back to Russia. But Perce was in Russia!

  “I said I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and I don’t think this is the time to do anything anyway,” Sabrina went on. “That’s why I assured you that I am not unhappy. I can wait. It isn’t as if William were a monster who mistreats me. And I like the life. William and I work very well together on the diplomatic end. Considering the political situation in Russia, it would be best if I returned. I have friends, a certain circle of influence. Women wield a surprising amount of power in Russia.”

  Leonie looked and felt puzzled. She did not wish to push Sabrina into any action, but she was rather surprised at her
cousin’s willingness to let so emotional a matter hang in limbo. For all her ice-maiden appearance, Sabrina was both impetuous and warmhearted. Leonie’s own heart contracted painfully at the thought that bitter hurt and several years’ practice in misery could teach caution and patience.

  She had been studying Sabrina’s face all through the conversation, however, and her distress diminished. Leonie was a keen observer of expressions and involuntary movements owing to her own precarious background. Now, while Sabrina hungrily consumed her sandwiches and tea, Leonie recovered from her shock and was able to sort out her impressions more carefully. First she realized that she was not really shocked at all. Sabrina’s confession had merely confirmed her growing fear that all was not well with the girl’s marriage. Second, she recognized that whatever she had seen in Sabrina’s expression, it was not patient, grief-stricken resignation. Third, the eagerness with which Sabrina was eating struck Leonie. One does not eat with the speed and appetite of a coal-heaver when one is discussing something painful enough to close the throat and knot the stomach.

  Relaxing, Leonie nibbled on a cake and sipped her own tea. Sabrina grinned and helped herself to another sandwich. Although she bit and chewed in a most ladylike manner the rate of her consumption was remarkable. Between swallows she explained that the food aboard the naval sloop, even officers’ stores, had been close to inedible—and that was when the cookfires had not been swamped by high seas in the middle of preparation. At all other times it was completely inedible.

  “In any case nothing like this was served,” Sabrina concluded, reaching for a tea cake this time.