Deceived (21 page)
Authors: Bertrice Small
“I am
not
attracted to Valerian,” Aurora said firmly.
not
attracted to Valerian,” Aurora said firmly.
“Then cease asking him if he thinks you're pretty in this or that new gown. Stop baiting him, and taunting him with your
passion
for St. John. He and his cousin have always been rivals of a sort, and neither can seem to get over it. Are you certain that St. John cares for you, Aurora? Really cares for you? Not just lusts for you, for even I observe that he does lust for you. Tell me that there is more between you than just desire. Do you even know, or understand, that there must be more between a married couple than just physical hunger?”
passion
for St. John. He and his cousin have always been rivals of a sort, and neither can seem to get over it. Are you certain that St. John cares for you, Aurora? Really cares for you? Not just lusts for you, for even I observe that he does lust for you. Tell me that there is more between you than just desire. Do you even know, or understand, that there must be more between a married couple than just physical hunger?”
“Yes, of course, I think so!” Aurora pulled away from her brother and sat down in a chair by the fire. “We amuse each other,” she told George. “I know I like him, and I believe he likes me. If we are to live together as man and wife, shouldn't that be important?”
He sat himself opposite her while Martha, having returned to the room, bustled quietly about, listening. “You and St. John already have more than Cally and the duke,” he said approvingly, “but there must be more. For instance, Betsy and I agree upon several things that will affect our married life. We are in concert in the matter of raising our children. We know that we would like two sons and two daughters. We have decided that even if the slaves have their own religion, we will still raise an Anglican church on the island and encourage them to attend. St. Timothy is going to change, Aurora. With the bottling facility that Valerian and I intend to erect, it shall become a more important island. Eventually trading ships will stop regularly, and we will not have to send our sugar to Barbados for transport to England. Betsy and I plan to work together to make certain that St. Timothy remains a good place, a happy place. It is up to you and St. John to set the goals that you wish to follow in your life together. Do not marry him just because you enjoy his kisses and like his hand up your skirt.”
“Master George!”
Martha's indignant voice interrupted them. “What a shocking thing to say to your sister. She's a good girl, she is! Don't you dare cast doubt upon either her purity or good character.”
Martha's indignant voice interrupted them. “What a shocking thing to say to your sister. She's a good girl, she is! Don't you dare cast doubt upon either her purity or good character.”
George laughed, catching a hold of Martha's hand and pulling her down into his lap. “I know Aurora is a good girl, Martha,” he said, “but I would not be a good older brother if I did not attempt to ascertain that she is marrying St. John for the proper reasons, and will be happy with her choice. Poor Cally is very unhappy with her choice.” He kissed the servant's cheek.
Martha struggled to her feet. “Now, don't you go trying to wheedle me or confuse your sister. She has made her decision to marry that Mr. St. John, and he's a mighty good catch. She's going to be happy, and no mistake about it, Master George. Now, go along with you and let my poor mistress get some sleep. It has been a very exciting day for her, for us all.” She shooed him from the room.
“Remember what I said,” George called out to her as the door closed behind him.
“Young scoundrel,” Martha muttered.
“He just wants to be certain that I am happy,” Aurora said.
“Well, he shouldn't say such wicked things to you, brother or not. And he shouldn't be confusing you about Mr. St. John,” Martha said.
“I'm not confused about St. John,” Aurora assured her as Martha helped her to undress and get into her nightgown. She washed her face and hands and cleaned her teeth in the basin of warm water that Martha provided for her. Then, tying her nightcap on, she climbed into her bed. “I'm not confused about St. John at all. He's going to make me a wonderful husband, Martha. I really think he is.”
Satisfied, Martha tucked the girl into her bed, and blowing out the candle on the nightstand, gathered up her mistress's discarded garments and left the room with a chirpy “Good night, miss.”
Aurora lay quietly beneath the down coverlet. The fire in the fireplace blazed cheerily, casting dark, mischievous shadows upon the walls and hangings. She closed her eyes and attempted to rekindle her delicious memories of that afternoon. She had been waiting for hours, it seemed, to be alone so she might recall her sensuous little adventure with St. John. He really was quite wicked, and she had been very naughty, yet she felt not a moment's guilt over the matter. His mouth on her breasts. His fingers beneath her skirts. The look in his eyes when his love juices had erupted and he had turned his head to gaze at her. She sighed deeply, and then suddenly her eyes flew open. It had been Valerian Hawkesworth's face she had just imagined! It hadn't been St. John's at all! What was the matter with her? Was her brother right? Was she unknowingly attracted to the duke?
Aurora shivered. This was wrong. It was very wrong. How could she be attracted to Valerian Hawkesworth? She didn't want to be a duchess, and he was certainly the most irritating man she had ever met, not to mention his appalling arrogance. And what had he done to her sister that Cally so disliked the physical act of passion? And had Cally not said he forced himself on her so he might have an heir. This was a terrible man. She could not possibly be attracted to him!
She couldn't!
Was Cally right? Was she a wanton who enjoyed clandestine revels with her affianced and had secret thoughts about her sister's husband? What is the matter with me? she wondered.
She couldn't!
Was Cally right? Was she a wanton who enjoyed clandestine revels with her affianced and had secret thoughts about her sister's husband? What is the matter with me? she wondered.
Was she regretful that she had deceived the duke? Was her conscience bothering her over it? Did she feel guilty that Cally was so unhappy? Yes, she did, but no one had forced Cally to marry Valerian Hawkesworth. She had taken one look at his handsome face, considered the elevated social position she would attain, and agreed. I will not accept responsibility for my sister's unhappiness, Aurora decided.
That still left the problem of why she kept seeing Hawkesworth's face in her daydreams, even when she was contemplating the deliciously sensual St. John. Both were tall and lean. St. John had an attractive face with good features, but Valerian was extremely handsome, his face a combination of angles and planes. This is ridiculous, Aurora thought. It makes no difference what they look like. That cannot be the reason that I keep imagining Valerian instead of St. John in my dreams. Yet, I am not aware that I feel anything for the duke but irritation. I do not think I have ever met any man who so annoyed me. That is not love. Even with my inexperience I am wise enough to know that. I don't know why I keep thinking of him, but I will not do it any longer.
I will not!
It is disloyal to my dear St. John. George is wrong. St. John does love me. I am certain of it. Did he not say he had never felt for any woman what he felt for me? It must be love, and I will not allow Valerian Hawkesworth to spoil my happiness.
I won't!
I will not!
It is disloyal to my dear St. John. George is wrong. St. John does love me. I am certain of it. Did he not say he had never felt for any woman what he felt for me? It must be love, and I will not allow Valerian Hawkesworth to spoil my happiness.
I won't!
Chapter
10
10
G
eorge Spencer-Kimberly and Miss Elizabeth Bowen were married on the thirtieth of October. It was a bright and crisp afternoon. The villagers had gathered outside St. Anne's to catch a glimpse of the bridal party. It was almost like family, for the Bowens had lived in Farminster for eleven generations, and there were several of those standing in the crowd who had not only seen Betsy Bowen grow up, but her father, Sir Ronald, as well.
eorge Spencer-Kimberly and Miss Elizabeth Bowen were married on the thirtieth of October. It was a bright and crisp afternoon. The villagers had gathered outside St. Anne's to catch a glimpse of the bridal party. It was almost like family, for the Bowens had lived in Farminster for eleven generations, and there were several of those standing in the crowd who had not only seen Betsy Bowen grow up, but her father, Sir Ronald, as well.
It was a small affair with only close friends and nearby family invited. Almost everyone was known to the villagers. The bridegroom arrived on horseback with Mr. St. John and the duke. The ducal coach stopped directly before the church path to debark the old dowager, quite regal in burgundy velvet trimmed in beaver. Her snowy hair was piled high and had two fine plumes in it. Miss Spencer-Kimberly followed the dowager, quite pretty in dark green velvet, her ringlets bobbing. But then, to the onlookers' surprise, an open sedan chair was brought up to the coach and the young duchess was helped out and into the conveyance that was then carried into the church.
“She don't look good,” an anonymous voice in the crowd said.
The dowager's sharp eyes swept the crowd for the speaker, but suddenly all was quiet. Linking her arm into Aurora's, they proceeded into St. Anne's. Inside, the church was filled with an air of expectancy. The midafternoon sun streamed through the stained glass windows, casting multicolored shadows on the oaken pews and stone floors. Fine white linen and autumn flowers adorned the altar with its gold candlesticks containing pure beeswax tapers. The two women proceeded to the front ducal pew and settled themselves. Calandra's sedan chair had been set in front of the pew so she might see everything from the best possible vantage point. St. John joined them, a quick smile on his lips as he greeted Cally, the dowager, and Aurora. The duke was to act as George's best man.
Lady Elsie nodded to them from across the aisle. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she clutched a sodden handkerchief. Her look was so woeful that the dowager leaned over, whispering softly to Aurora, “You would think her daughter were being forced into marriage with a monster, the silly woman!” Before Aurora might reply, however, the organ began to play a stately anthem, and the congregation arose to watch as the wedding ceremony began.
From the sacristy the bridegroom and the duke came forth to await the bride. Down the aisle tripped Misses Isabelle, Suzanne, Caroline, and Maryanne Bowen in yellow and white striped gowns, wreaths of late yellow roses in their hair. Now came Master William Bowen, aged ten, escorting the bride, who was radiant in her creamy taffeta gown with painted blue forget-me-nots, her hair piled atop her head, dressed with silk flowers and strings of pearls and lightly powdered. And awaiting them before the altar with George and the duke was the bride's father, who would marry the couple.
The ceremony was elegant yet simple. It was only the second wedding she had ever attended, Aurora thought as she watched her brother and his glowing bride. The church was peaceful, and it all seemed so right. How different it was from Cally's wedding in the hallway of the plantation house on that long-ago early spring day. Perhaps with God's blessing George's marriage would be a happier one than Cally's. Aurora hoped so with all her heart, but then, she knew Betsy and her brother would be happy. They already were, and it could only get better between them as the years went by because they were so well suited.
The newlyweds came down the aisle, smiling, the service over, their union formalized. They walked from the church to the cheers and good wishes of the villagers, the rest of the wedding party, and the guests following behind them to the vicarage, which was located on the other side of the churchyard. Aurora walked next to her sister, who despite her sedan chair looked exceedingly uncomfortable.
“Are you all right?” Aurora asked.
“How could I be all right with this creature inside me?” Cally grumbled irritably. “Having to sit like this is horrible, and I can only imagine that I look a fright!”
“You can recline on a settee at the vicarage,” Aurora said soothingly. “George and Betsy are so happy that you made the effort to come to the wedding, Cally.”
“Why does George have to leave us?” Cally whined. “I don't want him to go, Aurora. I am afraid without George.”
“That is so much nonsense, Cally,” her sister chided her. “You were without George all those months before we arrived in England. And you know why George is going. He must run the plantation. Besides, do you want Mama left alone forever on St. Timothy?”
“I wish I could go with him,” Cally whispered. “I wish it were two years ago, that Papa were alive, and we had never heard of Valerian Hawkesworth! If I had only known, Aurora, I would not have agreed to marry him. What if this creature I carry is not the son he wants? Then it will begin all over again, and I do not believe I could bear it!” Her voice had begun to have a hysterical edge to it.
“Calm yourself, Cally,” Aurora said sternly. “This is our brother's wedding day. It is a happy time, and I will not have you spoiling it with an attack of the vapors! You will put a smile on your face, and you will speak politely with all who greet you. If you do not, I shall convince St. John, and believe me it will take little effort, to elope immediately, and I will leave you! You will not enjoy being alone with your dark thoughts and bad temper, I promise you!”
Calandra's defiance crumbled in the face of her sister's threat. She forced a wan smile onto her face. “You are hard,” she murmured.
The front and rear drawing rooms of the vicarage were decorated with autumn flowers and branches of colored leaves and evergreens. Here the bride and groom received their guests and the many congratulations offered them. In the dining room the table was set with antique Irish linen and lace, silver candelabra, a silver bowl of late roses, and the bride's cake in the center of the table. There was champagne served from the duke's own cellars. Sir Ronald, a man of modest means, was extremely grateful for the Hawkesworths' generosity. A usually reserved man, he was expansive today in his delight over his daughter's excellent marriage. Betsy's union now joined his family in a tenuous marital connection with the Hawkesworths. This meant that he might seek just a bit higher for his other girls.
The wedding cake was cut, served, and eaten. The toasts were drunk to the couple's good fortune and happiness. Betsy discreetly hurried upstairs to remove her bridal finery and get into her traveling costume, aided by her sisters and her still-weepy mother. George was also nowhere to be seen, having gone to change from his satin breeches into something more practical for the road. The young couple would spend the next few days upon the road, making their way to London, and the vessel that would take them to St. Timothy.
Again Valerian Hawkesworth had shown an openhanded munificence. George and his bride would travel in the duke's large traveling coach. A baggage wagon would follow, overseen by Wickham and Betsy's maid. The newlyweds would spend three days in London at Farminster House before boarding the
Royal George
for their trip to St. Timothy. The duke had paid the first-class passage for the bridal couple so they might travel in the utmost comfort and privacy on this, their honeymoon voyage.
Royal George
for their trip to St. Timothy. The duke had paid the first-class passage for the bridal couple so they might travel in the utmost comfort and privacy on this, their honeymoon voyage.
Dressed for travel, George Spencer-Kimberly came to bid his two sisters farewell. Cally could not help weeping. “I feel that I will never see you again,” she sobbed piteously, but he reassured her fear as he always had since they were children.
“We'll come for a visit in five years' time, little sister,” he told her. “Perhaps we will even be able to persuade Mama to come then.”
“And our children will get to know one another,” Aurora said cheerily. “Mama will be in her glory with
all
her grandchildren gathered about her, don't you think, Cally?”
all
her grandchildren gathered about her, don't you think, Cally?”
Cally sniffled, and nodded slowly.
George now turned to Aurora. “You are certain?” he said meaningfully, looking directly at her. “I want you happy with St. John, and not miserable like our poor Cally.” His hands rested lightly upon her shoulders, his eyes filled with concern.
“I am as sure as any woman can be,” she answered him. “It is a good match, and I believe we suit, George. What more can there be but that. At least I do not fear the marriage bed like our sister.”
“No”âhis hazel eyes twinkled at herâ“you do not, I suspect, but more than that I do not want to know,” he chuckled. Then he kissed her upon the forehead, hugging her to him. “Be happy, dearest Aurora!”
“I will, George,” she promised him.
He turned his attention back to Calandra, pulling her gently to her feet and embracing her, kissing her upon both cheeks. “Try and be good, Cally,” he said softly. “In the end you will find that hearthside and children are the happiest life for a woman.”
“Nonsense!” Cally replied with a touch of her old spirit. Then she sat back down again heavily. “Give Mama my love.”
“Together,” George said. “Forever,” Cally replied. “As one!” Aurora finished.
“The bouquet!
Betsy is going to toss her bouquet!” came the cry from the hallway. “Come along, girls!”
Betsy is going to toss her bouquet!” came the cry from the hallway. “Come along, girls!”
Giggling, pushing, and shoving for the best position, all the unmarried ladies hurried into the hallway, where Betsy stood halfway up the staircase, the now slightly wilting flowers clutched in her hand.
“Come on!” George pulled Aurora by the hand and pushed her into the fray.
“One! Two! Three!
” chorused the other guests, and then the bride pitched her bouquet, which seemingly by magic went directly into Aurora's outstretched hands. She caught it, laughing, and blew a kiss in St. John's direction.
” chorused the other guests, and then the bride pitched her bouquet, which seemingly by magic went directly into Aurora's outstretched hands. She caught it, laughing, and blew a kiss in St. John's direction.
“Oh, that's not fair!” Isabelle Bowen protested. “We all know that Aurora will soon be married! She already wears the St. John betrothal ring.”
“You're too young to be married yet, Bella,” the new Mistress Spencer-Kimberly said with a smile. “Whoever catches the bouquet must wed within a year, or no one else present can marry. That is the rule. Do you want every girl in the county waiting for you to make up your mind regarding some young man? We all know that you have a terrible time deciding things!”
There were nods and chuckles of agreement all around. Then, before Isabelle could protest, the bridal couple was making its final farewells, climbing into the coach and departing. As the vehicle made its way down the drive with both Betsy and George hanging out its window, smiling happily and waving, Lady Elsie burst into fulsome tears, joined by her daughters, who continued waving weepily at the retreating carriage.
“Good grief!” the dowager muttered. “Where is our transport? I do not intend to stand here and be drowned by the tears of that silly woman and her four remaining chits. Valerian! Fetch the coach!” She turned her attention to her host and hostess. “A lovely wedding,” she murmured. “May I thank you on behalf of the entire family, but we must be going. The duchess cannot take any more excitement, y'know. It was quite an effort for her to come, you understand. Good-bye! Good-bye!”
She practically leapt into the carriage, followed by Aurora. Cally had already been ensconced inside as her brother and his wife departed. The dowager's agility was remarkable for one of her advanced years. The door to the vehicle slammed shut, and it moved off.
“Thank heavens!” Mary Rose Hawkesworth said with feeling.
Both Cally and Aurora giggled, unable to help themselves.
The dowager herself smiled a small smile, saying, “Elsie Bowen is a sweet creature to be sure, but a silly and sentimental one as well. Why on earth was she crying? Five daughters to marry off, and the dowries not particularly large, and Betsy marries a handsome young man with a good income and excellent prospects. What, I ask you, is there to cry about
that?
Not to mention that her daughter is now connected to our family by marriage. That should help that chit Isabelle when she is ready to go husband hunting. I know a most suitable young baronet who should be ready to settle down in another year or two,” the dowager concluded, her eyes narrowing at the prospect of matchmaking again.
that?
Not to mention that her daughter is now connected to our family by marriage. That should help that chit Isabelle when she is ready to go husband hunting. I know a most suitable young baronet who should be ready to settle down in another year or two,” the dowager concluded, her eyes narrowing at the prospect of matchmaking again.
“Gracious, ma'am,” Aurora replied with a small chuckle, “you will have Lady Bowen's daughters all married off before she knows what has happened, and then she will really drown us all in her tears.”
“Heh! Heh! Heh!” came the reply, and the dowager settled down with a pleased expression as they were driven home to Hawkes Hill.
Cally retired to her room immediately, complaining that she felt even worse than usual. The dowager and Aurora settled themselves in the family parlor overlooking the gardens to have tea.
“I do not like the look of Calandra,” the dowager noted. “Her hands and her feet are quite swollen, and she has become sallow. Perhaps we should call in Dr. Michaels tomorrow.”
Aurora nodded. “I believe it might be a good idea to err on the side of caution, ma'am. I have never known Cally to complain quite so much as she has in recent months.”
The day ended, and the house grew quiet. Extra quiet, it seemed to Aurora without George. For some reason, she could not fall into a deep sleep. It was almost as if she were waiting for something to happen. She would doze and then waken, doze and waken. Then, just as she was finally drifting into a deep sleep, there came a frantic knocking upon her bedroom door. Aurora struggled awake again even as Martha hurried from her little chamber to answer the frantic knocking. The servant flung open the door, and there stood Molly.
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