Sonnet to a Dead Contessa (7 page)

Dylan leaned back on his hands, stuck his legs out, and nodded wisely. “That’s how a boy named Arthur got to be king of England. But you see, God had chosen Arthur to be king, so there was nothing anyone could do about it. When God makes up his mind what a fellow is to do, why, it will be done.”

“Is God only interested in kings?”

“Of course not. God is interested in everyone. Don’t you remember, I told you when we were out hunting birds’ eggs that God knows every sparrow that falls to the ground. He has a plan for all of them.” Serafina watched David’s face. It was an animated face indeed, giving promise of a handsome man in the years to come. His eyes were dark blue, and he had a way of staring at people silently at times, as if he were studying them for some reason. He was watching Dylan right now in that way, and she wondered what he would say.

“How will I know what God wants me to be?”

“Ah,” Dylan said, nodding sagely, “that’s where you have to search for God. There’s a verse in the Bible that I think you ought to know. It says, ‘It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter.’”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“It’s very simple. We’re all put here in this world for a purpose, but God doesn’t always tell us what it is, so we have to search for it.” He leaned over and ruffled David’s hair and smiled. “You remember how we looked for days trying to find a bluebird’s egg?”

“Yes, I thought we would never find one.”

“But we didn’t give up, did we? When we didn’t find one the first day, we went the second day and the third day, and we got very tired of looking for that particular egg. But we found it, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did, and it’s there in my collection.” Jumping up, David ran over and pulled an egg from a group. He said, “Look, Mum, here it is. It was so hard to find.”

“It’s a beautiful egg.” Serafina smiled. “I know you worked hard to find it.”

“Well,” Dylan said, “if you and I would hunt so hard for a bird’s egg, think how much harder we ought to search to find out what God wants us to do during our time on this earth.”

“Is that what you do, Mr. Dylan?”

“Yes, indeed, David, and I want you to do the same thing. God has a wonderful plan for your life, and all you have to do is find it.” He turned suddenly and faced Serafina, who was watching him in fascination. “There you are, Serafina Trent, another fanciful story from an actor fellow who has no right to be instructing others. I know you don’t like fanciful stories, but I like them.”

“I like them too, Mum,” David piped up.

Serafina suddenly
smiled. “I liked that one myself.”

“Come on. Let’s go fly the kite,” David said.

“All right, old man, we’ll do it.” Dylan got to his feet in one smooth, easy-flowing motion. He was, Serafina thought, one of the most graceful men she had ever seen. He was strong and well built, muscular, but still he moved so easily in all of his motions. She watched as the two left the room, Dylan carrying the kite, and David a huge ball of string. Napoleon, the enormous mastiff who guarded David as if he were the crown jewels, happily lumbered along beside them.

She moved over to the window, and soon they emerged from the big house and out onto the spacious green lawn. The trees had been cut back, so there was little danger of a kite being lost. She watched them and could hear their voices plainly. David asking question after question, and Dylan patiently answering them. Finally they were ready, and she smiled as Dylan manoeuvred the kite up into the air as David held on to the string. “Let out more string, Davey boy, let it out!” Dylan called, and then he moved quickly over to stand beside David. Serafina watched as the kite flew higher and higher, and the two voices made a pleasant sound on the summer air.

“What are you watching, Serafina?” Dora asked.

“It’s Dylan and David. Dylan made that kite himself, and now he’s teaching David how to fly it.”

“He’s a gifted man, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. I don’t know much about acting, but those who know say he’s one of the best to ever grace the stage here in England. But I’m far more impressed,” she said, “at how he won David’s confidence and how the two have grown to be such fast friends.”

The two women stood there watching, and finally Dora said, “I’m a little troubled. Could I talk to you?”

“Why, of course you can.” Serafina turned and put her back to the window and studied her sister’s face. Dora was a slender young woman, well formed, with a wealth of auburn hair and warm brown eyes. She was nearly nineteen and had always seemed almost childlike in her ways, but now Serafina knew she was coming into womanhood and had fallen in love with Matthew Grant.

“What is it, Dora?”

“Well, it’s about love.” She suddenly blushed and ran her hand over her hair in a nervous gesture. “It’s just like magic to me the way I love Matthew and he loves me.” Her voice grew warm and her eyes lit up as she began to speak of how she had been afraid of Matthew at first, but had discovered that beneath a rather stern exterior he had the gentleness she desired in a man. Finally she looked down and said, “But I don’t know anything about love: What I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to act. I’m going to marry Matthew, but I don’t know how to be a wife. Will you tell me, Serafina?”

Serafina could not speak for a moment. This was the one question she had hoped Dora would not put to her, but she had suspected it would come. She had been her younger sister’s confidante for years, and now at this moment she would have given a great deal to have a ready answer. Her own marriage had been so terrible that she had nothing to share along those lines, and finally she said gently, “You’ll find your way, Dora. You have a good, loving heart, and Matthew is a good man. So the two of you are going to have a wonderful life together.”

Dora listened as Serafina spoke another minute, encouraging her sister. Finally, when Serafina finished, Dora said, “What about you, Serafina? Will you ever fall in love again?”

The question caught Serafina with the suddenness of a blow. “Oh, I don’t think about things like that.”

Dora’s face showed disappointment, but she smiled and, after a few minutes more, excused herself.

Serafina returned to the window and stared down. She could hear the voices of Dylan and David as they flew the kite higher and higher, but a question suddenly had come to her.
Will I ever have love?
Ever since her marriage ended, she had tried to block out this question, to throw herself into science and into the work with her father, but now as she stood there, the thought came,
What would it be like to be married to Dylan?

It was a question she had never thought she would ask, for viscountesses didn’t marry stage actors.
Aunt Bertha would die of shame,
she thought,
and many others too.

As she stood there, she fixed her eyes on Dylan, and a memory came back to her. Twice since she had known Dylan they had come to moments that she had not forgotten. In one of those instances she had been terribly troubled and shaken. Dylan had embraced her and just held her. She still remembered, even though it had been months ago, what it had been like to be held in his arms and comforted. The other memory was the time he had simply kissed her, and as she stood there, she remembered how she had surrendered to his embrace and how she had had to fight to pull herself back from any intimacy. She knew she was afraid of love, or perhaps it wasn’t love that she was afraid of but just men. Charles had been a vicious man under a smiling exterior. He could be charming, and usually was in public, but she had dark memories of the intimacy of her married life with him. As she stood there at the window, her eyes followed Dylan’s movements, and she realised that she had a longing for something in her life. Someone, perhaps, to share it with. She had always pushed away from any sort of surrender of this kind, and although there had been men who had come to woo her, she had never once been excited or tempted to marry anyone else. But now as she stood there at the window, she knew that if Dylan Tremayne moved out of their lives here at Trentwood House, David would not be the only one who would grieve.

“What were the two of you playing at so hard, Dylan? David went right to sleep. He hasn’t taken a nap in ages.”

“I think he’s the one who tired me out,” Dylan said. He was in the study looking at the books when Serafina returned from taking David to his room. “Did he seem okay?”

“Yes, but he was so tired he crawled into bed and went right to sleep.”

“He’s such a fine boy, Serafina, and he’s going to be a fine man.”

Serafina hesitated, then said, “You’ve meant a great deal to David, Dylan,” and then almost involuntarily the next words came out, “and to me too.”

“You say that now? Well, pleased I am that you feel that way.”

The two were suddenly caught in a moment that neither of them could explain. It had happened before, and Serafina understood well that it was because they felt an attraction, but one that she thought could never amount to anything. There was too much space between them, too many differences—her bad marriage, Dylan’s faith, and his uncertainty about his career. So Serafina was glad when Ellie Calder, the tweeny maid, came to the door and said, “There’s a lady to see you, ma’am.”

“Who is it, Ellie?”

“She gave me this card for you.” Serafina saw that it was a plain white card with a single name on it:
MARTHA BINGHAM
.

“Do you know who she is, Dylan?”

“Never heard of her. Who is she?”

Serafina made a face. “She’s a woman who’s lecturing all over the country now saying that women need to have equal rights with men. She’s been to see Lady Margaret, trying to enlist her in ‘The Cause.’”

“Whatever can she want with you?”

Serafina smiled suddenly. “I imagine she’s come to get me to join forces with her to put you men in your proper places.”

“Sounds dreadful.”

Serafina laughed. “Well, I’ll still see her, I suppose. Show her in, Ellie.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The two waited, and in a short time a woman came through the door. “Lady Trent, my name is Martha Bingham.” The woman
was rather striking. She was taller than average and had a fine figure. She was attractive, but her voice had a strident quality to it. “I apologise for coming without an appointment, but I felt I had to see you.”

“That’s quite all right, Miss Bingham. My good friend Lady Margaret Acton has told me of your work. Would you have a seat? This is Mr. Dylan Tremayne.”

“How do you do, Mr. Tremayne?”

“I’m happy to meet you, Miss Bingham.”

Martha Bingham, Serafina saw, had fixed her eyes on Dylan. She was accustomed to women looking at Dylan with all sorts of emotion. Most of them were overwhelmed by his good looks and his stature as an actor, but there was nothing in this woman of admiration. She eyed Dylan instead as one would eye an opponent.

“Shall I have tea brought in, Miss Bingham?”

“No, I would much rather get right down to business.” She suddenly turned and said, “I prefer to see you alone, but if your friend here wants to stay, I have no objection.”

“Well, perhaps it would be just as well if you state your business,” Serafina said.

“Are you familiar with our movement?”

“I have read a little in the newspapers.”

“Then you must understand how anxious I am to have women like you join our forces.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish, Miss Bingham?”

Miss Bingham put her gaze on Serafina. She had strange, slate-coloured eyes, a hue that Serafina had never seen before. There was a forcefulness in her that could not be denied. Perhaps the fact that she was physically larger and obviously stronger than most women revealed some of the inner force.

“Women in our country are no more than slaves.”

“Isn’t that a little extreme?” Serafina said.

“No, it isn’t. Why, we don’t even get to choose our names. I was given my father’s name.”

Dylan suddenly spoke up. “So was I.”

The woman gave Dylan a quick glance and then shrugged. “Men just have no understanding of these things. A woman can’t even own property here in this country without a lot of legal manoeuvring. Men can do anything they please, but women are kept at home to bear children and do housework.”

Serafina listened as the woman continued to speak. There was an anger in her, she could see that, and also a strength that was undeniable. But finally she heard her say, “I was hoping you would come to our rally tomorrow in Hyde Park. It would be very helpful if I could introduce you as being a supporter of our movement.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Bingham, but I will be unable to attend.”

The woman’s slate-coloured eyes seemed to glow, and her lips drew into a straight line. “I will hope you change your mind, Lady Trent. You’ll always be welcome.” She rose and nodded slightly to Dylan, then moved out of the room.

As soon as she was gone, Dylan smiled. “I take it you won’t be joining the lady’s army.”

“Well, she has a point. Women are abused, and there are some rights—the right to vote, for example—that I believe that women should have.”