Once Again a Bride

Nine



Exactly how, Alec wondered, had he ended up at the theater in this box full of females, about to be subjected to an evening of Edmund Kean? He vastly preferred comedies; he despised Kean and the set who raved over his stage frenzies. A year ago, or the year before that, he would have been engaged in some wholly different, much more… palatable form of amusement. With a very different sort of female.

Had it been Lizzy, dying to see a play? No, it was Anne, he remembered. He’d overheard her wistful comment about reading dramas but never actually seeing one performed. It was simply assumed, when he mentioned purchasing tickets, that Lizzy and Frances, and Charlotte, would come. Lizzy had been so excited; impossible to disappoint her. Even Frances had been pleased, and Charlotte… He’d been avoiding Charlotte, yet here she was beside him, stunning in a dark velvet gown. She’d undergone a transformation since he’d last looked, moving from winsomely pretty to riveting. Whenever he turned his head, he was mesmerized by the coppery golden glimmer of her hair, her sparkling eyes, smooth white arms, the curves under the soft folds of…

As if reading his mind, Lizzy said, “Doesn’t Charlotte look splendid? Have you even noticed her new gown? Jennings did her hair specially.”

It took Alec a moment to find his voice. “Very nice.”

“Very nice,” Lizzy mocked. “What a sourpuss you’ve been lately, Alec. Always gone off somewhere, never taking the time to…”

“It’s quite a good crowd for so early in the year, isn’t it?” interrupted Anne, ever the peacemaker. She leaned over the rail of the box, taking in the scene; there were roses in her cheeks again, for which Alec felt a surge of gratitude. It would be good for her to get a taste of London society, with her come-out just a year away. He hadn’t thought of that before. There was so much that he’d never expected to think about.

“The lady in that box across the way seems to know you, Alec,” said his youngest sister with a giggle.

“Lizzy,” Frances admonished.

“Well, it can’t be any of the rest of us. And she keeps looking over here and smiling and playing with her fan.”

Alec followed her gaze, and recognized the sophisticated young matron who had considerably enlivened his last stay in London. The depth of her décolletage brought back steamy memories. Her dazzling smile when he nodded politely signaled a clear willingness to add to them whenever he chose.

“Is she on your list?” Lizzy asked.

“Be quiet, Lizzy.” How had he failed to consider that this outing would bring together two unrelated parts of his life? Which were definitely to remain unrelated.

“Alec intends to make an arranged marriage,” Lizzy proceeded to tell Charlotte. “He is very cynical and does not believe in love matches.”

“How could anyone, after watching our grandparents continually rip at each other? Father knew what he was doing, choosing a partner on a rational basis.”

His entire party stared at him, openmouthed. Anne seemed about to speak, then said nothing. Frances looked deeply shocked, but she could scarcely be more shocked than Alec himself. He couldn’t believe the words that had escaped his mouth. He was well accustomed to his sisters’ teasing; he’d never lost control in such… to expose his family’s most private… in front of… His face burned with humiliation. Why couldn’t Lizzy curb her tongue? Why could she not learn some discipline? “If you cannot behave with more propriety, Lizzy, I shall take you home immediately.”

“But all I…”

“Did was make spectacle of us for all to see.”

“How did I do that? That’s not fair!”

Lizzy gazed at him with huge, hurt eyes. Anne looked distressed, Frances uneasy. In his awareness that Lizzy had a point, he didn’t dare glance at Charlotte. Blessedly, before the silence grew unbearable, the curtain rose, and the performance began.

Kean ranged across the boards as Hamlet. Some poet had said that his acting was like reading Shakespeare by flashes of lightning. And why would you want to do that, Alec wondered? He ignored the play and struggled to recover his equilibrium. What was wrong with him? He did not lose his temper. He did not criticize his family. He did not, and he would not, and that was the end of it. So… why…?

Not even looking at the stage, he told himself he was tired and worried. The times were so bad that the country was a tinderbox awaiting a spark. Not his own tenants, perhaps, but he’d heard from some of them about others—unspecified others—who were threatening violence. If they carried their grievances into action, the government would crush them, and what would become of his own people in that case? Might he rush home to find a line of gibbets across his green fields? What could he do—what more could he do—to make certain that never happened?

Servitors entered the box with lemonade and ices, and Alec came back to himself to discover it was already the first interval. He had ordered refreshments to be served here, to avoid the crush in the lobby. Lizzy greeted them with vociferous delight. “What I don’t understand is,” she said as she dug in to an ice, “why isn’t Hamlet king? His father was the king.”

“His uncle took over,” replied Charlotte.

“But what reason did he give? Wouldn’t all the people in…?”

“Denmark,” Anne prompted.

“Yes. Wouldn’t they expect Hamlet to become the king? Everyone knows the Prince Regent will become king, and he has lots of uncles. Doesn’t he?”

“He certainly does,” replied Alec drily. And a bigger set of gamblers and lechers and incompetents could hardly be imagined.

“Claudius usurped the throne,” said Anne, savoring the verb.

“But how? With an army?” Lizzy wondered.

“With… um… persuasion and intrigue,” Charlotte offered, with admirable ingenuity, Alec thought.

Lizzy contemplated this as she finished her ice and reached for another. “Why didn’t he kill Hamlet then? In the history books people are always trying to make me read, they do that when they u… usurp.” She wrinkled her nose at their surprised expressions. “I have read some of them!”

“I expect he thought Hamlet’s mother wouldn’t like it,” Frances put in.

“Oh, yes. He wanted to get on her good side, because he wanted to marry her.” Lizzy nodded wisely.

Alec found he was smiling.

“She seems rather stupid, doesn’t she?” Lizzy looked from face to face. “I mean, she can’t understand why Hamlet is upset. But he didn’t get to be king. Why wouldn’t he be upset?”

“Very true,” said Alec. Lizzy shot him a glance, saw his smile, and returned it. Alec felt his chest lighten with relief. He didn’t enjoy being at odds with his sister.

“So, Hamlet thinks that his uncle killed his father. He knows his uncle married his mother and took away his kingdom?”

The rest of the party nodded, enjoyment of Lizzy’s commentary evident in all their faces.

“But he isn’t doing anything about it?”

“He’s thinking about what he should do,” said Anne.

Lizzy cocked her head. “He seems a bit damp, doesn’t he? Compared to King Arthur and his knights, or the princes in fairy tales? They’re always righting wrongs and fighting injustice. Hamlet just keeps talking.”

“Well done, Lizzy. You’ve hit on the characteristic he is most famous for,” Alec told her.

There was general laughter. Seeing Frances throw back her head and indulge in a hearty laugh, Alec was abruptly struck by the memory of a picnic, ten years or more ago. He’d been home from school, so it must have been during the summer holidays. Frances, his father, his brother, and sisters had all been there, around a bright blanket on the shore of the stream that ran through the estate. The picture was vivid in his mind—green grass and paler willows, splashes of wildflowers, the sound of water in the background and his family’s laughter close by. But mostly he remembered the feeling of contentment that had enveloped him that afternoon, for the first time in a long while, perhaps since his mother’s death. And he had known somehow, even at fourteen, that it came as a gift from Frances Cole. She didn’t laugh enough these days. He needed to see about that.

“What do you think Hamlet should do?” Charlotte was asking Lizzy when he came back to himself.

Lizzy’s dark blue eyes narrowed. She scraped the last of her second ice from the dish. “Challenge his uncle to a duel. They could fight each other for the kingdom.”

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Alec said. He would have preferred it over what was to come.

Lizzy looked around. “Is that what he does?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Anne told her.

Lizzy wrinkled her nose at her sister. “Well, next time I would rather see a comedy.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Alec told her. “What do you think of the play, Anne? Is seeing better than reading?”

“Of course. Although Mr. Kean is…”

Alec waited.

“He seems awfully…” Anne searched for a word, “…excitable.”

Alec burst out laughing again, wholly in sympathy with his sisters. Charlotte was laughing, too. Their eyes caught and held, and Alec found he couldn’t look away from the warmth of those coppery depths. He wanted to… rise and… or reach out a hand. Anne leaned over to speak to her; Charlotte turned away. Alec kept gazing at her until the curtain rose, and Edmund Kean came railing and frothing onto the stage.

***

Ethan looked around the servants’ hall of Sir Alexander Wylde’s town house, at a circle of lamp-lit faces. With the family out for the evening, all the staff were present except Thomas, the coachman, and Jennings. As usual, she’d claimed she had tasks to do in her room. She put herself above the rest of them, Ethan thought, even the housekeeper, which was laying it on a bit thick.

Mrs. Wright knitted and kept a benign eye on the younger staff. Cook and Agnes were hulling chestnuts, some of which they’d roast in the fire later on. Ethan hefted his mug of mulled cider and let his gaze linger on Lucy. She was smiling; she looked happy. It was the first time Ethan had seen her so at ease. He liked seeing it; she’d been that anxious when she first arrived. Tonight, she was the picture of contentment, and a lovely picture it was.

“Oh, Ethan was crazed about animals when he was a lad,” said Susan. “You’d only to tell him of a downed bird or a wounded hedgehog, and there he’d be. Eight years old, and he had a little kit with bandages and all.”

Ethan gave her a lazy grin. The young lady’s maid was practically a sister to him. They’d played together as toddlers and grown up on the estate side by side.

“Most of ’em died, o’ course,” Susan added. “And what a to-do we had then. You stopped doing the funerals after a while, though, Ethan. Why was that?”

“I started to wonder if I’d done them a service, keeping them hanging on, like. I figured out that some of them died ’cause they could never live in a cage.” It had taught him a lot about the way nature worked.

“Our Ethan’s quite the fee-losopher,” James said.

Ethan poked his fellow footman in the ribs, and they tussled briefly. He didn’t really mind the teasing. He knew the others liked him, as he did them.

“Let him be now,” said Mrs. Wright. “Our Ethan’s an easygoing lad, but there are limits.”

And there it was. They didn’t go too far, and next they’d be twitting James about his finicky ways with boot polish, or Agnes about her weakness for sweets and the lengths she’d go for a bit of cake. Nobody was mean with it.

Ethan caught a flash of black in the corner of his eye. If it was a rat, Cook would… but, no. It was Callie edging along the wall. Was the cat trying to escape the house where she was increasingly confined? A creature like her was used to wandering of a night. However, she was probably used to kicks and thrown stones, too. Not likely to be missing those. Callie settled by the fire with her paws tucked underneath her; she noticed Ethan’s gaze and looked away. Maybe she was just lonely, upstairs on her own.

Ethan thought no more about it until a few minutes later, when a lightning paw flashed over the edge of the table, snagged the bit of cheese remaining on James’s plate, and disappeared. Talking, James groped about the plate, then looked down, puzzled, at the empty dish.

Ethan bit back a laugh and an urge to peek under the table. Callie was a slick little thief, and no mistake. And why shouldn’t she be? Her skills had kept her alive out there in the street. He looked up and caught Lucy’s blue eyes dancing. She’d seen it, too. He raised his brows. Should they turn the cat in? Lucy smiled at him, a free and easy smile that hit him amidships and just about stopped his heart. What was it about this particular lass? He’d known prettier; he’d known livelier. But somehow Lucy Bowman made every other girl he’d met fade from his mind. For the gift of that smile, Callie would go free, Ethan thought.

James decided he’d eaten the cheese after all. “I don’t know what’s going to come of it,” he said. “Folk I know are near to starving. No joke, their young ones are hungry more days than not.”

Mrs. Wright shook her head. “The hardship’s something terrible in the country.”

“And I’ve heard from my brother that there’s some want to take steps,” James added. “They’re sick of waiting for help that don’t arrive and a government that don’t listen. Right back home, this is.”

“You should tell Sir Alexander if there’s talk of violence,” admonished Mrs. Wright.

James’s jaw hardened. Ethan knew he’d never risk getting his friends in trouble.

“He’s doing his best to make things right,” the housekeeper went on. “He has a fund for those in need, and all.” But James was clearly not convinced.

“Everybody said things would be better when the Frenchies were beat,” put in Agnes. “We’d been fighting those devils since ’afore I was born. Why en’t it better with the war over?”

Nobody knew. Though James faithfully read the newspapers that came into the house, and Mrs. Wright corresponded with a number of people in Derbyshire, the problem was too knotty even for their collective wisdom.

A pan rattled, then fell with a great clatter in the scullery. A streak of black hurtled across the kitchen and out toward the stairs. “Drat that animal,” said Cook. “She can’t be hungry. I sent up a pile of scraps not two hours ago.”

“I reckon she can’t forget being hungry,” said Ethan. He rose. “I’ll go and make sure she’s back in Miss Lizzy’s room.”

It took awhile to corner Callie. Once he had, and returned her to her place with only two or three scratches to show for it, Ethan got an idea. He lingered in the back hall, waiting for Lucy to come up from the kitchen, praying she’d be alone when she did.

His luck was in. Some while later, she appeared on the stairs, alone. He pretended to be just returning from his errand. “She’s a handful, that cat,” he said.

“Did she bite you again?”

“No, we’ve reached a better understanding.” As Lucy started past him, he added, “It’s a fine night.” He hoped it wasn’t too cold, anyway. “Care to step out for a breath of air?”

“I need to…”

“Lovely moon out there.” Lucy gave him a look, and Ethan acknowledged it hadn’t been his smoothest approach. “Where’s your favorite place to see the moon?” he added before she could leave.

That made her pause and think. “In the gardens, back in Hampshire, there was a whole patch of white roses. I was out there once when they was blooming, and the moon was full. It was right beautiful.” Her voice had gone softer.

“Mine’s the forest.” Ethan edged her toward the back door, and she went. They turned right and walked into the small garden behind the house. “’Course, the forest is pretty much my favorite place for anything.”

“Like, the woods, you mean?” Lucy wondered.

“‘Woods’ says small to me,” Ethan answered. “The Wyldes keep a good bit of land in trees, for timber mostly. And it’s good for some of the steeper bits, keeps the soil down. You get deep in that forest, and it’s… a different world.”

“Different how?”

Moonlight poured over the neat flower beds as Ethan struggled to put it into words. “The light’s all green, coming through the leaves, and the air like to… smells green. Sounds are softer, some of ’em, or sharper. Crack of a twig can seem like a gunshot. And there’s no sign of another person, anyplace; you might be the first ever to step in that particular spot.”

Lucy stared up at him as if she hadn’t really seen him before. “Don’t you worry about getting lost?”

“You could; it’s that big. But old Elkins taught me how to find my way about.”

“Elkins?”

“He’s the forester. He trained me. That’s what I mean to do—take his place now he’s ready to leave it.” The words just slipped out of him. He’d never told another soul about his plan for the future. But once started with Lucy, he couldn’t seem to stop. “Forester gets a cottage of his own, out at the edge of the trees. It’s all I’ve wanted—to look after a piece of land, and maybe a family, someday.” Ethan had never cared for possessions; he wasn’t like his sister, always longing for new things. “My dad’s going to see it as a step down for the family. He already thinks I’m feckless, and this’ll properly enrage him.” Why was he telling Lucy? It seemed he had to, that she had to hear it.

“Your dad doesn’t know what you mean to do?”

“Nobody knows. I haven’t told anybody… else.” What if she talked about it, Ethan thought? “Appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention it.”

Lucy stared up at him with parted lips. Was she amazed, or just bewildered? Ethan couldn’t tell. All he knew was—the world had fallen away. He couldn’t see anything but her face, silvered by moonlight, familiar and strange, wildly appealing. He stepped closer, reached for her. He bent his head to take those lips for his own.

She tasted of cider and cinnamon. Her body was supple and yielding under his hands. Ethan pulled her close, and closer as her mouth softened under his. Desire and response flashed between them and set him afire. He pushed the kiss, wanting more.

Lucy stiffened, struggled, pushed away from him, and backed up. She raised a hand to her trembling mouth. “I almost believed you weren’t…” She sounded near tears. “I reckon you’re right pleased with yourself now. You can brag to your friends that you got round me after all. Another conquest to add to your long list.”

“It isn’t like that, Lucy. I’d never…”

She turned and ran.

Now he’d done it. Ethan cursed himself for a fool. He’d behaved like the bad sort she thought he was. And no way to make her believe that kiss had been different from any other in his life, that he flat out hadn’t been able to resist her. Worse, they’d both be in big trouble if anyone found out what had happened tonight.

Moving much more slowly, Ethan made his way back inside. He’d have to go back to the kitchen, joke about the cat, pretend he was carefree and heedless and hadn’t a thought of Lucy Bowman in his head. It was going to be damned hard. But he’d do it. He’d do just about anything to protect Lucy, he realized.

***

Alec’s anticipation of the second interval was dashed from the beginning when Edward Danforth stepped through the curtains at the back of their box. “Mama sent me over with salutations,” he said with a graceful bow. “She’s holding court, of course.” He indicated a box to the left, where Alec discovered his Aunt Bella entertaining several older gentlemen. She must have been fashionably late. He hadn’t seen her come in. Politeness required that Alec bow. She gave him a little wave that seemed to epitomize everything he disliked about this branch of his family—their unshakable air of superiority, their careless amusement at those who could not match their social ease, their taste for malicious gossip. But most of all it was his aunt’s impervious self-regard; her baseless lawsuit had outraged the whole family. Yet she sat there as if she’d done nothing wrong; indeed, he knew she maintained she was in the right, despite the unequivocal verdict of the law courts.

Edward leaned over the back of Charlotte’s chair. “Are you enjoying the play? Ravished by Kean’s genius?” Alec wanted to dismiss his cousin as a posturing coxcomb. Only, he wasn’t. Three years older, he had always outstripped Alec in the social graces.

“We are finding him a little… excessive,” Charlotte replied, smiling up at Edward. Alec became conscious of a desire to toss his cousin over the rail into the pit.

“Do not let anyone hear you say so!” Edward pretended shock. “He is all the rage, ma’am, I assure you.” They exchanged a twinkling look. What did he mean by calling her “ma’am”? It was ridiculous, though Charlotte appeared to be enjoying it.

“Hamlet is becoming rather annoying,” offered Lizzy.

Edward gave her a lazy smile, but otherwise ignored her. “Kean’s death scene is much admired,” he told Charlotte. “Perhaps that will sway you.”

“Does he die?” said Lizzy. “I shouldn’t be glad, I suppose…”

“You’re looking very pretty, cousin,” Edward said to Anne. “Next year, you’ll have a broad acquaintance and more interesting supplicants in your box than a mere relation.”

Anne flushed and returned a shy smile.

“Don’t let us keep you from your friends, cousin,” Alec couldn’t help saying. “I know you find family gatherings tedious.”

“Less so every day,” Edward responded, sharing out a smile between Anne and Charlotte. “Indeed, I think I must pay far more attention to my family… obligations.”

He said the last word as if it meant something quite different. Yet there was nothing one could object to in the sentiment. He’d been a slippery creature since he was eight years old, Alec recollected. “The play is about to start up again,” he said. He didn’t care whether it was true. He just wanted Edward gone.

The latter met his eyes, laughing at him. “A few more minutes, cuz. Pray don’t turn me out.”

There was no answer to that, and he knew it. Alec was forced to watch him flirt expertly with Charlotte and Anne for ten long minutes before the interval finally ended. And by then even Lizzy looked charmed. It was Edward’s gift—without a doubt—easy charm. Alec had never envied it quite so much as tonight, and he refused to ask himself why this should be so.

The play wound up to its gory conclusion. Alec held cloaks and recovered gloves as his charges chattered about the cascade of deaths and, in Lizzy’s case, how Hamlet might have avoided his serial mistakes. As they waited in the press of patrons searching for their carriages, he noticed that Frances looked tired. “Let us walk a little,” he suggested. “I told Thomas to wait down this way.”

Thus, they found the carriage much sooner than otherwise, though no one seemed to notice his forethought. Lizzy had turned the conversation to Edward Danforth. “It will be a great help to you next year, Anne,” she said. “He can present you to all his fashionable gentleman friends.”

“His set is not suitable for Anne,” Alec couldn’t help replying.

“Why?”

“Never mind, Lizzy. Just be assured that I know what is best for Anne and for you.”

“That sounded very like your Uncle Henry,” Charlotte commented.

“Nonsense!” The insult left him rigid with anger. And the snap of the word rang loud inside the carriage. The resulting silence lasted all the way home.