Alicia (29 page)

“Wait here and I shall bring them to you,”
Helen urged. “They must be finished with tea by now. And if they are not, they will surely tell me.”

She returned a while later with Stronbert, Miss Carnworth, and Alicia, who had been pressed to join the festivities. Matthew had been showing Felicia about the schoolroom, explaining what he was studying and that he was to go to Eton the next fall. “But Papa says I need not stay if I do not like it,”
he admitted.

His father, coming in to hear the end of this, regarded him fondly and agreed gravely, “Yes, that is the bargain we have made.”

Felicia hesitantly joined the adults and offered Miss Carnworth a package containing a lacy white mob cap, and Stronbert one containing a stick pin. “You have both been so very kind to me,”
she murmured.

Miss Carnworth, for all her gruff ways, was moved by the girl’s gift and impulsively hugged her to her sparse bosom. “What a dear child you are!”

When he had thanked her, Stronbert’s eyes twinkled as he said, “Your present is marked with your name, Felicia, but you shall have to find it.”

“A treasure hunt!”
Helen squealed enthusiastically. “May I take you around to look?”

“I shall certainly need help,”
Felicia confessed. “Will you not give us a hint?”

“No, not yet. If you cannot find it after a bit, I will perhaps take you to it.”
Stronbert turned to Alicia with a smile. “I should like to show you about the house; you have seen very little of it. Shall we follow the youngsters?”

They trailed along behind the children at a more moderate pace while Stronbert indicated the various rooms and the history of the building. When the second floor had been covered, and the first, and finally the ground floor without Felicia’s gift having been discovered, the children waited for their father to catch up with them. “Have we missed it, Papa?”
Matthew asked curiously.

“No.”

“But we have been all over the house.”

“True.”

“Then it is not in the house?”

“No.”

“Oh, Papa, that is too bad of you,”
Helen pouted. “We shall never find it outside.”

“Yes, you shall, for I shall take you there now. Put on warm wraps.”

Alicia looked inquiringly at Stronbert and he nodded. “Yes, you shall come, too, if you will.”

It was to the stables that he led them, and Felicia’s countenance grew excited and anxious at once. She was almost afraid to enter, and Stronbert took her hand and led her to Dancer’s box, where the little mare had a red bow in her mane and a sign on the door read “For Felicia.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she impulsively hugged Stronbert and placed a timid kiss on his cheek, before opening the door of the box and repeating the procedure.

“It is too much,”
Alicia whispered, stricken.

Stronbert held her eyes with his and replied, “No, it is not enough after what she has been through. Please do not deny me the pleasure of giving her the mare.”

“I know you mean well, Lord Stronbert, but what would people think?”

“Do you really care?”

“No, but for Felicia’s sake…”

“Then have her keep it here for the time being, or better yet simply say nothing and people will assume that she borrows it as she did when Rowland and Dorothy were here.”

Felicia had become aware of the low-voiced discussion outside the box. She had not heard the matter under consideration, but her questioning glance at her mother informed her that there was a problem. “What is it, Mama?”

When Alicia did not reply, her daughter transferred her gaze to Stronbert, whose countenance she could not read. Her hand had remained on the mare, which nuzzled her then, and she gasped in disappointment as she understood. “I am not to be allowed to keep the mare.”

There was a silence and Helen and Matthew stood uncomfortably watching the other three. Alicia wanted to explain to her daughter, but she could not seem to find the right words. Stronbert finally spoke. “Your mother and I need to discuss the matter further, Felicia. Perhaps we can find a solution.”

Felicia’s lips trembled but she nodded and, with a final pat to the mare, determinedly walked out of the loose box and closed the door. The group returned to the house in considerably worse spirits than they had departed, but there were only a few minutes before dinner and the matter of Dancer was not raised.

Alicia was seated to Stronbert’s right at the meal and she felt very hard-pressed to keep up her share of the conversation. The general, on her right, did not seem to notice her silence, for he was never at a loss for words himself. Alicia found it difficult to swallow the magnificent procession of dishes which arrived at the table and felt a real gratitude to the dowager when she rose to lead the ladies to the drawing room. The young people, who had been permitted to dine with their elders for this special occasion, immediately sought out several games for their own amusement, since Helen and Matthew were determined to see Felicia smile again.

Alicia had seldom felt less like singing and playing the harpsichord, but she obligingly performed her share of the entertainment. The Christmas songs soothed her for a while, but she found her concentration wandering when she was offered a hand at whist. After a while she found Stronbert at her shoulder and heard him suggest that Miss Carnworth take her place for a while. She rose obediently and followed him across the room away from the others.

“No one will rest easy until this problem is settled,”
he commented calmly. “I wish you will allow me to drive home with you so that we may discuss it at leisure.”

Alicia bit her lip unhappily. “Perhaps that would be wise.”

“Shall I call for the carriage now?”

“Yes, if you will. Felicia and I will make our farewells.”

There was no discussion in the carriage of the mare. Stronbert instructed the coachman to await him at the Feather and Flask and followed the women into the cottage. In the hall Alicia hugged her daughter and said she would try to do what was best. Felicia nodded sadly and shook hands with Stronbert before unhappily climbing the stair. There was no fire in the drawing room, as Mavis had gone home to spend the day with her family. Stronbert lit the candles and got a blaze established on the hearth. Alicia watched him silently.

When he had completed his tasks he turned to find her still standing in the doorway. “Come and sit down, Lady Coombs. I have a great deal to talk about with you.”

“We must decide the question of the mare,”
Alicia said woodenly as she seated herself.

“We will arrive at Dancer eventually,”
he conceded. “There are several more pressing matters to discuss.”

Astonished, Alicia said stubbornly, “I cannot imagine what. It would have been wisest if you had consulted me first about the horse.”

“I can see that now. I did not mean to cause you distress, my... ma’am.”
He rubbed a hand across his forehead and said gently, “I do not know if I should burden you with what I am about to tell you, but I feel you would resent it if I did not. And you might come by the information some other way,”
he said ruefully.

“Then you must tell me.”

“I went to London because I had a letter from a friend informing me that Tackar was in France spewing forth epistles which defamed your character and your daughter’s...and mine.”

Alicia felt suddenly sick at heart. “Tell me exactly what he said.”

Instead Stronbert drew a letter from his pocket and placed it carefully in her lap. Alicia numbly read the sheet full of innuendoes and lies. In disgust she rose to throw it on the fire. “No,”
Stronbert cautioned her, “I have need of it.”

“What for?”

“We shall discuss that another time. Right now I want to explain to you what happened when I went to London and then to Paris.”
He proceeded to do so in a level, diffident voice that hypnotized her.

“Rowland killed him?”
she finally asked, aghast.

“I had no way of knowing that Tackar’s rumors had reached him. In fact, I did not really think of him at all in connection with the affair. But he is devoted to Felicia and took matters in his own hands.”

“But he might have been killed!”

“You must not think of that now. He was not. You shall have to decide whether you wish to tell Felicia about this or not.”

“Dear God, all you do is force me to make decisions all day,”
she wailed.

“That is not the last of them,”
he drawled, a grin lightly touching the corners of his lips. “I have a present for you and you shall have to decide whether to accept it or not.”

“Well, if it is a horse or if it is valuable, I shall not,”
she retorted emphatically.

Stronbert drew a small jeweler’s box from his pocket and set it on the table between them. Alicia stared at it, horrified.

“I thought you said you had no time to do any shopping,”
she accused him.

“I did not feel it necessary to mention that while my friend George ate his breakfast and Rowland rested, I made use of the free hour to visit a jeweler in Paris. I had promised myself that I would not do so until Tackar could no longer bother you, and that was the first opportunity I had.”
He indicated that she should open the box.

“I cannot.”

Stronbert reached down and opened the box to exhibit a sparkling emerald surrounded by diamonds. He did not attempt to remove it from the box or to hand it to her. “It is a betrothal ring,”
he explained unnecessarily. “I wish to marry you.”

“But why?”
There was a quiver in Alicia’s voice and she could not meet his eyes.

Stronbert did not speak until she finally, hesitantly, lifted her eyes. “Because I want to take care of you and Felicia. I can offer you the security and position you deserve. I feel sure the children would be pleased if I married you; they are genuinely fond of you and your daughter. But mostly, my dear, because I love you.”

Alicia regarded him with fascination—the handsome, dependable man she loved and needed to make her life complete. She made a half-gesture of extending her hand to him, but let it drop back into her lap. Marriage demanded more than she could give. She would be expected to be more than a companion and substitute mother to his children; she would be expected to be a dutiful wife in bed. An uncontrollable shudder ran through her, and she bowed her head. “I cannot be a wife again,”
she said miserably.

Since this was no more than Stronbert had expected, he asked gently, “You cannot return my regard?”

“It is not that!”
she declared fiercely. “I am very fond of you. I can see that you would give me and Felicia all we could ever hope for out of life. And I can see that I should marry you if only for Felicia’s sake. But it would not be fair to you, my lord, because I could not fulfill my...share of the bargain.”

Stronbert watched Alicia bend her head, her face flushed and sad. “I had thought of that. Let me suggest something to you. I have already a son and daughter and need not produce any further children for the sake of the succession or for my own personal satisfaction. In fact, in marrying you I would gain another child I am fond of already. I am willing, although not eager, to make a compromise. If you do not feel you could accept the consummation of our marriage and the subsequent physical responsibilities, I will undertake to make no such demands on you.”

Alicia could not believe she was hearing him correctly. But then his voice continued in the even lazy tone, “However, in exchange for this concession, I would expect your full acceptance of my...activities elsewhere. I would be discreet, of course, and no embarrassment would attach to you from them. I had rather not live a celibate life, you understand.”

“You cannot be serious,”
she blurted, shocked.

“Well, but I am. Ordinarily I would consider marriage bound me to faithfulness, but under such circumstances...”

Inexcusably Alicia felt very angry. He was telling her that every time he left for York, or London, or anywhere, she might expect that he would be with another woman. Sir Frederick had spent all his time with another woman, and she had, except for the shame of it, been relieved that he had. Why then should she balk at such an offer? Surely she could not ask for more—a home, a man she loved, security for her daughter, and an undisputed social position. She wanted to slap him.

Stronbert witnessed the flash in her eyes and concealed his satisfaction. He rose, leaving the jeweler’s box on the table, and suggested mildly, “Perhaps I should give you time to think on the matter. I realize marriage is an important step and you will want to consider the various aspects of it. May I call tomorrow evening to discuss it further?”

Alicia valiantly swallowed the anger, that mysterious, unjustified emotion she should not be experiencing at this time, and said through taut lips, “Yes, please, I should like some time to decide.”
She had risen with him and now tentatively touched the box on the table. “You must keep the ring for now.”

“As you wish,”
he agreed and snapped it shut before replacing it in his pocket. Alicia’s eyes remained for a moment on the spot where it had disappeared. “I think we should let the matter of the mare alone until we have spoken again,”
he continued, as he stepped into the hall.

“Yes, of course,”
she replied numbly. Then she remembered the little enameled snuff box in her reticule and, without a word, disappeared back into the drawing room to retrieve it. She presented it to him shyly in the palm of her hand. “Happy Christmas.”

She was flooded by the warmth of the very special smile he bestowed on her occasionally when he was particularly pleased with her. Would she ever receive it again if she refused him? Mechanically she bid him good evening and watched him walk down the steps to stroll around to the Feather and Flask. Wearily she attended to the fire, put out the candles, and climbed the stair to her room. Felicia was waiting there, nervously attempting to school her countenance to acceptance of her mother’s decision on the mare.

Alicia found it difficult to return her mind to what had begun to seem to her a very small problem in light of the other. She could not ignore the expectant face, however, and said, “Felicia love, we did not come to a decision on Dancer, but agreed to settle it tomorrow night. I am sure something can be worked out, so do not despair.”