Alicia (19 page)

“Thank you. I should like to have a word with him,”
Stronbert commented easily. He proceeded to ask Jane about her family and to tell her about Alicia’s shop in Tetterton, about which she was fascinated. His casual air put her at ease almost immediately, though she had been intimidated by his title when he was announced. She rang for tea and was pouring when her husband arrived. After she had introduced them she exclaimed, “Is it not a coincidence, Stephen? I have just had a letter from Alicia this morning.”

Stephen did not particularly like the coincidence, but he sat with them over tea for some moments before signaling to his wife that he would like to be alone with Stronbert. She immediately excused herself and softly closed the door behind her.

Stephen spoke abruptly. “You have come about Alicia?”

“Yes. I should like to discuss with you an incident that occurred the other day. It might be wise for you to read her letter. I cannot know if she would write you of it,”
Stronbert said thoughtfully.

Stephen lifted the letter from a side table and perused it carefully. His lips compressed over the note directed to him. “She says only that there has been a little trouble with Mr. T but that it is now taken care of. I presume that is what you refer to?”

Stronbert cast his eyes heavenward in a gesture of despair. “She told me she had confided in you about Tackar. If this is in the nature of a confidence you must be severely lacking in information.”

“She would hardly write more when my wife was to read the letter,”
Stephen replied stiffly. “Alicia discussed his proposition with me when I last came to see her.”

Stronbert’s eyes narrowed. “It was not a matter of a proposition this time, Mr. Newton; it was an attempted rape. And not only of Lady Coombs, but of her daughter as well.”

Stephen paled visibly and his voice shook as he asked, “But they were not harmed?”

Stronbert shrugged an angry shoulder and said, “They were not raped, no, but they were both handled—ungently. It was only by good fortune that I was able to intervene.”

“I should have killed him,”
Stephen groaned. “She made me promise that I would not.”

“I tried to, but he will recover. I thought it necessary to speak with you about the situation, Mr. Newton, because I was involved in it, and I did not think your sister would enlighten you. And I see she has not.”
Stronbert studied the man opposite him who bore a faint resemblance to his sister. “I imagine Lady Coombs would not approve of my coming to you, but then I did not ask her. She had mentioned that you lived in Oxford and it was no difficult matter to find you. However, I will proceed only with your permission."

“You have it,”
Stephen said shortly.

“Less than a week ago Tackar sent a note to Felicia, purportedly from my nephew, which led her to ride out to an old oak north of town. It was not to be an assignation but in the nature of a surprise awaiting her there, since she had been left out of a ball given in the neighborhood. Tackar captured, bound, and mishandled her, leaving her in a boarded shed with the threat that he would return to rape her. I was visiting a farm in the area and saw Tackar ride by leading a horse Felicia frequently hired from the inn. Since I had previously had reason to believe that he was annoying your sister, I found the circumstances suspicious and began a search for Felicia. When I found her and loosed her she was hysterical for some time. After a while she urged me to save her mother and we arrived at their house to find that we were in time. In time to save her from actually being raped, you understand, but not from the ignominies preceding it.”

Stephen felt sick, and he looked pale. Stronbert asked if there was any brandy available and Stephen numbly walked over to a cabinet and withdrew a bottle and two glasses. He poured these out and offered one to the marquis, who accepted it and set it down. Stephen reseated himself and sipped at the fiery beverage gingerly. He had not spoken a word.

Stronbert continued gently, “I told Tackar to meet me in the morning. It was a most irregular duel, with no seconds and no surgeon, just our valets. Lady Coombs refused to allow it, saying that she would not have another death on her head. I want to know what she meant.”

Stephen considered the amber fluid for a moment. “Why did you not ask her?”

“I did ask her and she refused to tell me. She said she had told you. Come, Mr. Newton, this is not a game we are playing.”

“My sister is a very private, very stubborn woman.”

“I know that. Can you not see that she needs protection? You can be of no assistance to her in Oxford. I wish to have that right, but I know she will not grant it to me now.”

“You wish to protect her? You wish to marry her?”
Stephen asked faintly.

“Yes, but I have not asked her because I know she will not accept me now...perhaps never. I am asking you for the right to protect her and her daughter, Mr. Newton, because she needs protection and because she has no one else to do so.”

“How would you protect her?”

“By doing whatever I could whenever necessary. I do not wish to incur her displeasure, nor do I wish to abandon her to the unscrupulousness of a man such as Tackar. I wounded him severely, but he will live. To wreak vengeance another time perhaps.”

Stephen drew a weary hand across his brow. “I asked her to come to us instead of buying the shop, but she is well aware of our limited space and resources and would not do so. Why would she not have you?”

“For many reasons. She is trying to accept a reduction in her station because she keeps a shop. Therefore she thinks me above her. She might think that I wish to marry her to save her from such a life, or to save Felicia. In other words that I would do so out of pity.”

“Would you?”
Stephen asked curiously.

“I might,”
Stronbert drawled.

Stephen wished to pursue this matter, but the glint in Stronbert’s eyes stopped him. “Are there any other reasons?”

“I cannot be sure that she likes me,”
Stronbert admitted ruefully. “But the largest obstacle is the fear she now has of men. I had noticed it even before this occurrence, but it is of course much worse now. Felicia, too, is suffering the effects of the attempted rape and both of them will take much time and patience to bring to a more natural view of males. Will you tell me what Lady Coombs said to you about Tackar?”

Stephen hesitated no longer. “When the Grange had to be sold...Well, perhaps you do not know that Sir Frederick made a will leaving half of his property to his mistress, who had a son, and half to my sister. Alicia had to sell the Grange in order for this disposition to be made, for Sir Frederick had spent lavishly. Alicia managed his estate for some sixteen years,”
he said angrily. “Sir Frederick seldom came there; in fact, she had not seen him for two years before his death. She is convinced that it was Tackar who killed him in the duel,”
Stephen said skeptically.

“It was.”

“How could you know?”

“A friend of his told me so. I doubt he lied.”

Stephen sighed and set down his brandy glass. “That, too, then. Tackar bought the Grange, though Alicia did not wish to sell it to him and had gotten a better bid than his original one. He overbid the other party and purchased it for more than it’s worth. He then came to Alicia and proposed that she stay there and receive him when he chose to come to her, is how she put it.”
Stephen watched the pulse in Stronbert’s neck throb as the man pressed his lips firmly together. Stephen continued, “That is all she said, except that she would never speak to me again if I killed him. She meant it.”

“She would,”
Stronbert managed to say, but the bile in his throat almost gagged him. He should have blown Tackar’s head off. “You understand the situation now, Mr. Newton. No one can really give me the right to protect Lady Coombs but herself, of course. Since she is not like to do so I would like your assurance that you are agreeable to my intentions. Are you?”

“How could I be otherwise?”
Stephen asked dismally. “I can do nothing for her myself but have her here, and she will not come. I can only be thankful that you are concerned.”

“I want you to understand that my protection will be as unobtrusive as possible and that it will continue as long as I feel there is any danger to either of them. I am very fond of Felicia, as are my niece and nephew. My nephew...well, we shall see. Felicia is but sixteen and cannot know her mind yet, especially after this incident. I am a widower myself, with two children—a son of twelve and a daughter of ten. Perhaps Lady Coombs mentioned in her letter that my niece and nephew are staying for several months. At the Court a few more or less make little difference. My mother is there as well as a vast array of relations. It would not perhaps be the sort of home that Lady Coombs would choose for herself, but it would undoubtedly be more comfortable than their cottage. Felicia is a favorite of everyone. I tell you these things in the event one day that I am able to convince your sister to wed me.”
Stronbert gazed out the window for a moment and then said more slowly, “Since the succession is assured it would be possible for me to wed your sister without making any demands on her, but I had rather not have things come to that pass.”

Stephen felt his eyes widen in astonishment at this statement. If he were not the age he was he would have thought to redden at such plain speaking. Stronbert noted his discomfiture and said softly, “Forgive my bluntness. I wish only to arrive at the source of Lady Coombs’s distress about men. Perhaps it is only Tackar, but I feel that is not all. As her brother I had hoped you might be able to enlighten me, but I know it is a distressing subject and I shall not press you.”
He made a gesture of dismissal and lifted his brandy glass to take a sip.

Stephen was sure he had not suffered such embarrassment since he was a youth. And yet he could not feel the impertinence that should have been in the question, for it was a question. He was being asked to discuss his sister’s physical relations with men. Another sip of brandy fortified him somewhat. “I realize,”
he said faintly, “that you feel justified in asking such a question, but it is hardly a matter in which my sister would have confided overmuch in me.”

“I should welcome your impressions. Mr. Newton, it cannot be for the best to allow your sister to go through life afraid to give her hand to a man if it can be prevented. She is as skittish as a filly about even the most formal of social touches from men, except the very young and old.”
Stronbert sighed. “No matter, I will be patient.”
He made a move to rise, but Stephen waved him back into his chair.

Through dry lips he spoke haltingly. “My parents sold Alicia to Sir Frederick. That is what it amounted to. She was just turned seventeen and did not care for him at all, but he took a fancy to her when he met her here in Oxford. My parents used the money they received to set out for America. We have never heard from them since and do not know if they are alive or not. Sir Frederick was nearing forty then and Alicia’s youth appealed to him. She was shy in those days and I protested my parents’
decision. They brooked no argument from me or from Alicia, who was locked in her room for two weeks before she agreed to accept him.”

Stephen bit his lip and sighed. “And so they were wed. I visited her some six or seven months later and found her distraught. Sir Frederick was due back that day from a trip to London and I could see that she was anxious. When he arrived, although we were sitting at tea, he took her by the arm and drew her out of the room. I have seldom seen such terror in a girl’s eyes.”

Stephen took another sip of the brandy and continued, “She was already with child, and I was distressed enough to follow them. He took her to his room and even from down the hall I could hear her pleading with him.”

Stephen shut his eyes in an agony of remembrance. After a moment he moistened his lips but did not open his eyes. His voice was a faint thread of sound. “I heard him tell her, roar at her, to get on her hands and knees and uncover herself. And I heard her screams. I felt helpless to interfere. She did not speak of it, of course, when she returned to me some time later. I wanted to take her off with me, but she said he would only come to get her. I stayed longer than I had intended to, but my presence was no deterrent to her husband. When he wanted her he came and took her away to his room, whether I had been sitting with her or not. I lingered until he became totally intolerant of my stay, and then I feared that I did her more harm than good. I had a wife and young child at the time, with another on the way. I did not visit Alicia again until after her child was born.

“At that time she seemed stronger and more resilient than I had expected. She told me that on the day Felicia was born Sir Frederick came to her room and slapped her repeatedly all the while shouting that she should have had a son. He had wagered five thousand pounds that he would have a son. She told him never to touch her again, and, perhaps because he found a mistress in London soon after, I think he never did. Of course, she had threatened to kill him if he did, which may have influenced him,”
Stephen remarked with grim humor.

Stronbert had sat through this discourse with his head bowed. He did not wish to have his gaze interrupt the long-suppressed flow of Stephen’s agony for his sister. Now he spoke, his steady, steel-like voice bringing reality back to the scene. “I appreciate what it has cost you to tell me this, Mr. Newton. I promise you will never regret your confidence and that I will do what I can to see your sister safe and happy. I will write you, if I may.”
Stephen nodded his acquiescence. Stronbert continued, “I would prefer that your sister not know as yet that I have visited you.”

“Certainly. I will explain to my wife.”
Stephen rose to take the other man’s offered hand. “I wish you well, and can only thank you for your concern for my sister and my niece.”

Stronbert left Oxford with a heavy heart. Matters were worse than he had presumed. Perhaps it would be best, after all, to offer Lady Coombs marriage without its obligations. She had suffered far too much in her physical relations with men already. And he might be able to convince her of the advantages for Felicia of such a match. He had schooled himself over the years in patience and gentleness with his own wife, and he had been rewarded with success in some measure. But she had not been well for some years before her death and afterward he had taken a mistress occasionally in London. The thought of an unfulfilled marriage with Lady Coombs was bitter indeed, and he was not sure that he had the strength for it.