The Dowager's Daughter

by Mona Prevel

  “Absolutely not. I consider it a barbaric and disgusting practice. I would rather die than submit to it”

  The doctor steepled his fingers. “I am unhappy to say that there may come a time, your ladyship, that such may be the case.”

  After he left, Celeste had Colette remove the bandages, take off the poultice, and rewrap her injured ankle in a dry bandage.

  “What on earth good will soggy bread wrapped in a rag do for anything? The man is a charlatan.”

  She then submitted to the inevitable and sat facing the window with her foot propped up on a footstool. When Althea dropped in to check on her condition, she found her gazing outside, an exasperated expression on her face.

  Althea hastened to her side and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, dear. You look absolutely miserable. Would you like something to ease the pain?”

  “Nonsense, darling. As long as I do not move my foot too much, it feels perfectly fine.”

  This statement was followed by a speculative look. Althea knew it did not—nay, could not—bode well for her.

  “There is something that you could do for me, darling. Heaven knows I hate to impose, but I must prevail upon you to perform a trifling little service for me. In fact, I must insist that you do it.”

  “What would that be, Mama?”

  “Marcus called on me yesterday while you were out delivering baskets to the old and infirm of the village.”

  “And he left you a letter to give to Mr. Soames.”

  “Yes. But how did you know that?”

  “Difficult to say. It just popped right into my head. It could have something to do with there being a full moon tonight For some reason, your rendezvous with Mr. Soames and the existence of a full moon seem to go hand in hand.”

  Celeste beamed, “Then you will deliver it for me, chérie?”

  Althea nodded, surprised that her usually astute mother did not catch the irony in her response. “When do you expect to meet him?”

  “About ten o’clock tonight. It should be dark enough by then.”

  “Yes, it should, but the servants will still be up. Uncle Jean-Claude will most likely not even have finished his after-dinner brandy and cigars.”

  Celeste huffed impatiently. “For goodness’ sake, Althea, pray do not make more of this than is necessary. Is not the lady of the house entitled to take a walk in the garden when she pleases? If you tippy-toe out, casting furtive glances right and left, of course you will be suspect. March through the front door as bold as you please and no one will give it a second thought”

  Althea had to admit that Celeste’s view on the subject had merit. “That is very clever of you, Mama.”

  Celeste waived the compliment. “Nonsense. It is merely common sense.”

  Clad in a warm coat made of a pale blue superfine and wearing a silk bonnet of the same color, Althea walked—nay, strode—through the front door, nodding at every servant she encountered along the way.

  From the moment she agreed to meet John Soames, a feeling of panic robbed her of all logical thought The memory of their last encounter was all too vivid. The slightest hint of a smile on his part had made her senses reel, and the sound of his voice had washed over her like a caress. She had thought her body had betrayed her in every way it could, but that was before he had taken her hand in his. …

  “Dear heavens,” she moaned, “do not let it happen again.”

  Even as she uttered the supplication, she peered into the looking glass to make sure that her bonnet was placed at a becoming angle and that she looked her prettiest She mulled over these contradictions as she made her way to the river, firmly convinced that she was quite mad.

  As she neared the bridle path, John came forward to meet her. “Lady Camberly,” he called out when they were but a few feet apart, “how pleasant it is to see you once mo—”

  He stood stock-still. “I seem to have my Lady Camberlys mixed up, but the greeting still applies.’’

  “How good of you,” Althea replied dryly.

  “How is the older Lady Camberly—not ill, I hope?”

  “Not exactly. She tripped over a tree root this morning and twisted her ankle. Nothing serious, but the doctor recommends that she stay off her foot for a while.”

  “I see.”

  John took a step nearer. Her bonnet shadowed her eyes, making it impossible for him to see her expression. He took another step. The moonlight gave her face a luminous quality that took his breath away. Steady, old chap. It mil not do to overstep the bounds.

  Not trusting his emotions, John came no farther and to his dismay, Althea came to him, holding out a package.

  “Mama asked me to give you this.”

  Her voice was high-pitched and strained. John concluded that Althea was uncomfortable with the idea of meeting a comparative stranger in the middle of the night without a chaperone, and rightly so. He made up his mind to be scrupulous in observing the conventions.

  He took the package and put it in his jacket pocket, telling himself that he would thank her and be on his way.

  To his dismay she tilted her face up to his and parted her lips as if to say something. Helpless to resist, he pulled her close and kissed her.

  At first, her body stiffened and her lips clamped shut; then, with a soft moan, she parted them and received his kiss. He claimed their softness with gentle probings and tiny nips, taking care not to frighten her, and to his infinite joy, he felt her arms slowly entwine his neck.

  Emboldened, he showered her face and throat with kisses; then, no longer able to contain his desire for her, his lips joined hers in an ever-deepening kiss. John had never felt so right about kissing a girl in his life. Although kissing Althea raised him to the heights of passion, it also filled him with a sense of belonging.

  At first he found this difficult to fathom; then he realized it was a sense of recognition. It was as if he had known her from the beginning of time and would continue to do so long after the stars grew cold.

  “Dear girl. You have no idea how long I have wanted to kiss you, and to hold you close like this.”

  He took her hand and held it to his chest. “Feel my heart—it is beating so rapidly it is liable to burst.”

  She pulled her hand away and he reclaimed it and kissed the back of it, then unfolded her fingers like the petals of a flower and kissed each fingertip.

  “We belong together. I have never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  Her reaction to his declaration was like a dash of cold water in his face. She freed herself from his embrace and pushed him away.

  “This cannot go further. I am sorry, Mr. Soames, but my life is not my own.”

  John drew back. “My name is John.” He fought to keep his voice from breaking. “You cannot kiss a man the way you kissed me, and then treat him like a stranger.”

  “John, then. But it doesn’t change the situation.” Her face crumpled with distress. “Oh dear, I cannot be a party to this. I am sorry, but I have to go.”

  Before John could say anything to stop her, she took flight down the path that led to Camberly Hall. As he watched her disappear into the shadows, he felt as if everything important to his existence had disappeared with her.

  It seemed to him that in her way, Althea Markham was no better than Belinda Vickery. Perhaps all women were alike. When it came right down to it, most marriages of the ton were based on wealth and rank rather than love.

  “I fear that love carries no significance for you, Lady Camberly—or could it be that it is not in your nature to love any man?”

  He turned to the river, realizing that it made no difference. No matter what qualities Althea Markham did, or did not, possess, he was doomed to love her until the day he died.

  Chapter 10

  Althea spent the winter months in a state of abject misery. She longed to search out John Soames and tell him she had made a terrible mistake and ask him to forgive her, but she knew that was
out of the question. Circumstances had not changed. She could not marry him. Besides, The Seafoam never returned to Camberly.

  In January, King George slipped deeper into insanity, and the Prince of Wales assumed the tide of Prince Regent. Despite the cold weather, the inhabitants of Camberly gathered together in groups along the esplanade for the next couple of weeks speculating how much money their Prince Regent planned to squander on remodeling his pavilion in Brighton.

  During February of 1811, an epidemic of the grippe swept through Camberly, leaving several deaths in its wake. Those who died were mostly very old, but two small children also succumbed, causing Althea to feel shame for having wallowed in self-pity since that night in October.

  One of the people who had died was a Mrs. John Underhill, the sister of the Countess of Fairfax and aunt to Marcus and John Ridley. She lived in a large house on a cliff overlooking the ocean, just beyond the boundaries of the village.

  The house was rectangular in design, built of large blocks of gray stone. An imposing-looking portico comprised of half a dozen Corinthian pillars relieved the austerity of its form.

  Althea had always admired the simplicity of its style. She saw in it a harmony lacking in the jumble of towers and crennelations of Camberly Hall. She felt it was a house that cried out to be filled with children, its sturdy walls promising a safe haven against the winter storms that roiled the ocean below.

  John Underhill had built the house in 1769, prior to his marriage to Gertrude Wilson, with every expectation of rearing a large family there. Unfortunately, children were not forthcoming.

  The Underhills were a reclusive couple, not given to socializing with their neighbors. Even in church, they would merely nod to the Markhams, then keep their eyes steadfastly fixed on the altar.

  Althea and Celeste had become better acquainted with Mrs. Underhill almost three years ago when, out of respect, they attended her husband’s funeral. The Earl and Countess of Fairfax had been there, along with their son, the Viscount Ridley. The younger son, John, did not attend because he was in Jamaica, seeing to the family sugar plantation.

  Lady Fairfax, it turned out, was Mrs. Underbill’s younger sister. Celeste thought it odd that Mrs. Underhill had not made use of such a lofty connection to secure her place in Society. She received the answer when Marcus asked her and Althea to befriend his aunt.

  “We would be delighted to do so,” Celeste replied, “but I doubt your aunt would welcome any attempt at friendship on our part. When my husband was alive, all invitations to attend our soirees were politely but firmly refused by the Underbills.”

  “Do not blame my aunt. Mr. Underhill was a kind, decent man but was terribly shy, and did not seek the society of others. It must not have been easy for Aunt Gertrude as the Wilsons are a jolly, fun-loving family.”

  Once, at a picnic Althea gave by the River Camber, she sat next to Mrs. Underhill and together they watched the Swann boys chasing a ball all over the meadow, a large, shaggy dog of indeterminate pedigree clashing among them, barking with sheer joy.

  After an interval Mrs. Underhill said, “I do not know how Mrs. Swann keeps up with such a brood. Mr. Underhill and I had hoped to raise a family, but fate decreed otherwise.”

  Althea touched her hand lightly. “How sad for you, Mrs. Underhill.”

  Mrs. Underhill looked away from the children and gave Althea a smile. “La, my dear Lady Camberly, I have come to the conclusion that as far as the little darlings are concerned, I have none to make me laugh and none to make me cry.” But even as she uttered the words, Althea had seen the hint in her eyes.

  On hearing of Mrs. Underbill’s demise, Althea recalled her words and was filled with profound sadness.

  Due to the fact that all four of them were suffering from one stage of the grippe or another, none of the residents of Camberly Hall were able to attend Mrs. Underbill’s funeral. Althea regretted this, and sent her condolences to Lord and Lady Fairfax and also to Marcus Ridley.

  In the middle of March, Celeste paid a visit to Hansford’s to purchase some thread and lace trimmings to refurbish some of her underclothes in readiness for the upcoming Season. Althea had declined to accompany her to the village, using the excuse that she had no intention of participating in the social round that year.

  “You must go to Town without me, Mama. I am of the opinion that four Seasons should be enough for any female to find a husband. If a young gentleman wishes to pay me court, he shall have to come to Camberly to do so.”

  “But Althea, this could prove to be a brilliant Season for you. You will have the cream of society’s eligibles at your feet, all dying to marry you.”

  “And also Society’s most dreadful bounders. Married persons hoping to seduce me into tossing my bonnet over the windmill. Thank you, but no, Mama. I would far rather stay at Camberly.”

  On her return from the village, Celeste sought Althea out to share the latest on dits circulating there.

  “Darling, whom do you think I encountered at Hansford’s?”

  “I would not venture a guess.”

  “Mary Swann.”

  “Oh, dear. How is she? I have been meaning to call on her, but what with catching the grippe last month …” Althea’s voice trailed off. It was a poor excuse. She had begun neglecting her social obligations from the time she had rejected John Soames’s offer of love.

  “She is in the very bloom of health and in the family way once more. Mary is one of those fortunate females who seem to thrive at such times.”

  “That is good news. Perhaps she will get the little girl she has always hoped for.”

  “That would be nice. She also told me that Mrs. Underhill bequeathed her entire fortune to her nephew, John Ridley.”

  “John Ridley? That would have to be Marcus’s younger brother. I find it most singular that after four years of being out in Society I have yet to encounter him. Have you, Mama?”

  “No, chérie, but it has been years since anyone has. I rather suspect that he is an eccentric.”

  “You mean he hides himself away like a hermit?”

  Celeste laughed. “Nothing quite so drastic. According to Marcus, he managed the family’s sugar interests in Jamaica for a while. While there, he also became engaged to a beautiful young woman who subsequently jilted him for someone with fuller pockets. Not long after, he left the island.”

  “She must have been a very shallow creature, do you not agree?”

  Celeste sighed. “Yes, darling, I do. But there are many in Society who would choose riches over love. Some manage to rub along quite well with their spouses, but there are others …” She did not finish the sentence.

  Althea wished she had not pursued the subject. Had not her mother entered into such an arrangement? Admittedly she had been under tremendous pressure to contract an advantageous union but had refused out of hand to marry the first two candidates presented to her.

  Not long after the earl died, Celeste had told Althea that she had consented to marry her father because he was the only decent man the marquis had presented to her.

  “There was not a grand passion between us. I am sure Papa experienced such in his youth, but what we shared was an affection that comes with mutual regard and consideration.”

  “What became of John Ridley?”

  “According to Marcus, he dashed off to India to explore ancient temples. Such an odd thing for a young man to do. Do you not agree?”

  “Foreign climes seem to hold a fascination for several gendtlemen of our acquaintance.”

  “Quite. But they are those more settled in life. The sort who seek to escape the monotony of a long-standing marriage. On the other hand, most twenty-three-year-old gendtlemen are more inclined to move among Society, gaming and cavorting with belles amies, while at the same time, halfheartedly searching for an heiress to marry who is not an out-and-out antidote. But, of course, that would not be the case here. The poor man is probably trying to mend a broken heart
”

  “Mama, I am so afraid it will happen to me.”

  “A broken heart?”

  “No. That someone will pretend to love me just for my fortune. It is all so odious. Mama, why is it that the families of the ton see nothing wrong in marrying their daughters off to such creatures, providing they have the right pedigrees?”

  Celeste looked wry. “La, child, whom should our kind choose for their daughters to marry? Poor but saintly creatures who will worship and adore them in squalid little hovels for the rest of their days? Is that the sort of life you would choose for yourself?”

  “Of course not Mama. Only I think it would be better if the ton raised their children to believe that they should cherish love and honor far above their pedigrees.”

  “But darling, young men defend their honor on the grass at dawn all the time.”

  Althea frowned. “Do not deliberately misunderstand me, Mama. Those silly little duels have more to do with fools drinking too much wine the previous evening than ever they have with honor.”

  “I quite agree,” Celeste said quietly. “Just as this conversation has very little to do with the marriage customs of Society. chérie, until you tell me what is making you so unhappy, there is nothing I can do to help.”

  Althea forced a smile. “You are mistaken, Mama. I am quite happy. I must admit that I am still a trifle weak from the grippe. But I am sure that when the weather improves, I shall feel better.”

  Celeste patted her cheek. “Of course you will. Just remember that you can come to me for any reason at any time, day or night.”

  Althea made no reply.

  On first learning that his niece was not planning on a season in London, the Marquis de Maligny seemed disappointed, and questioned the wisdom of such a step. Althea suspected that his objections were colored more by a fear that her absence from the social round would result in fewer invitations for him to participate in the Season’s festivities, rather than any concern for her welfare.