Читать книгу Surrender To Love - Rosemary Rogers - Страница 12

Both silent, each wrapped in her own thoughts, the two young women, who were so unlike each other except for being about the same age, were fortunate enough to regain the safety of Alexa’s room without being discovered. Luckily for them the young soldiers who had the night watch were too busy fighting sleepiness at this hour of the morning to be as alert as they were supposed to be; and even more fortunately, Aunt Harry was still asleep and snoring lightly when Alexa finally went back to bed.

Alexa had already decided, very firmly, that nothing had happened. She had slept the night through, with Menika watching over her, and even if she had dreamed occasionally…well, dreams were nothing more than figments of a fevered imagination and had no significance at all.

After going down alone to an early breakfast, Harriet shook her head at finding her niece still asleep when she came back upstairs. Alexa’s pillow was hugged to her and the rumpled sheet barely covered her hips. Really, Harriet thought exasperatedly, I must try and make Alexa understand that young ladies—any lady for that matter—do not go to bed quite naked. Alexa possessed at least four pretty nightgowns, none of which she had ever worn yet. What must the servants think?

Looking about the room, Harriet’s observant eyes had noticed that there was fresh fruit and a fresh carafe of water placed by Alexa’s bed, and that her rumpled traveling dress had been washed, starched and pressed already before being carefully laid across the back of a brocade-covered chair. Well, at least they were efficient here. And they ought to be, Harriet thought grimly; with more than a hundred servants running about, each trained to do but one particular task. Even at informal meals there was a servant stationed behind the chair of each guest, ready to spring forward if necessary. She thought it a ridiculous waste of government funds, but of course the governors of a British crown colony were supposed to keep up certain standards of style and elegance, and the ball tonight, she hoped, would prove an example of both.

Alexa stirred and mumbled in her sleep, burrowing her face against the pillow she hugged so fiercely. What a child she could be sometimes, while at others…But it was high time the girl woke up and took some nourishment. Why, her hair alone would require hours of careful detangling and brushing out before it was ready to be styled. Bending down, Harriet shook the sleeping girl’s shoulder firmly.

“Alexa! Out of bed with you quickly, before they bring up the breakfast I ordered for you. Please have the good taste to wear a nightgown and that pretty wrapper your mama had made for you. And it’s no use your pretending you’re still too fast asleep to hear me, either. Up this instant, my girl!”

Recognizing, even in her drowsy state, a certain note in her aunt’s voice that meant she would brook no more procrastination, Alexa sat up at last, still yawning and rubbing at her eyes. She had been dreaming of something quite pleasant, and now she could not remember what it was. Why did she have to wake up so early? Sullenly, she found herself almost forced out of bed while Harriet moved her this way and that like a rag doll, scolding all the while.

“You know very well that too much sleep always spoils your disposition! Here, slip your arms into the sleeves, and I’ll tie the sash for you since you seem incapable of making the slightest effort on your own. Mrs. Mackenzie offered me a personal maid to take care of you, but I had to refuse, of course, because of your immodest habit of walking around your room with nothing or hardly anything on. And you must understand, my dear, that even though we have allowed you a certain amount of freedom at home, other people will hardly understand or condone such pagan habits. Why, not even husbands and wives…” Harriet bit off her words sharply but not soon enough, for Alexa had thrown back her head and was regarding her curiously.

“Do you really mean that people who are married and have children, perhaps, do not see each other without their clothes on? Why, I think that not being naked and free together is the more barbarous custom. And…” But now it was Alexa’s turn to cut short her indignant flow of words and blush as the one memory she had sworn to put completely out of her mind came back with startling, unpleasant clarity.

“I should think you’d have the grace to blush!” Harriet snorted. “And I certainly hope you will never dare attempt to air those views in polite company! I suppose it’s because you spend too much time talking to those coolie women who walk around half-naked themselves. I should have gone along with your mother, and had your papa forbid you…but then…” Harriet suddenly sighed heavily. “I have never believed that females should be kept overly protected and ignorant either, and that is why I have been so free in my discussions with you and have allowed you to read certain books which although they are considered literature are also thought to be not fit for ladies to read.”

“Aunt Harry, I…”

“I do hope, my dear Alexa, that I have not been wrong to bring you up in the way I did. You are eighteen today and still more than half-child, in some ways, but I always wanted your eyes to be open when you became a woman.”

Alexa threw her arms around her aunt, hugging her fiercely. “Please don’t, Aunt Harry! I’m so glad and so lucky that I was brought up by you as I have been, with my eyes open. And in spite of the silly tantrums I throw sometimes and the angry things I say, you must believe that I will never let you down; especially not in public. I feel so sorry for those poor women who know nothing at all beyond how to sketch or paint with watercolors or play a tune on the pianoforte, and cannot even carry on an intelligent conversation with men on politics or hunting or horses…”

At this Harriet had to repress a smile, although she said with her usual brusqueness: “Well, I do hope you will speak with a little less frankness than usual on the topic of horse breeding and refrain from joining in arguments that concern politics or religion. And now get on with you and wash your face with some cold water. Your eyes are quite puffy from oversleeping.”

While Harriet bustled about the room Alexa’s muffled voice came from behind the lacquered screen that hid the washstand with its china pitcher and basin. “I promise that I will be charming to everyone tonight, even the bores, and that I will be decorous and demure and seem helpless and even a little silly, since that is what’s expected of a proper young lady.” She emerged toweling her hair, with those strange slate-colored eyes of hers sparkling in a way that Harriet mistrusted. “In fact, do you think I will find a ‘catch’? It might be an interesting experience to have a suitor, even if I might not decide to marry him in the end. But I suppose I really must learn how to be a flirt, even if it is only to find out if I can turn men into my slaves or not.”

“Alexandra!” Harriet’s voice carried a warning note, but Alexa only laughed, making a turban of her towel as she twisted before one of the full-length mirrors so that her silk skirts swirled about her long legs.

“Oh, but you must not worry that I shall do something to disgrace you. For since I have, thanks to you, dearest aunt, a passably good mind, I have decided to follow your advice and use my feminine wiles to the greatest advantage possible.” She was studying herself in the mirror as she spoke, especially her face. She looked so different with all her hair tucked out of sight. Was it possible that she could ever pass as a man? And then, sighing, Alexa decided not, putting aside one more childhood ambition of hers.

“Well? Trying to decide if your face is your fortune?” Despite her dry tone of voice, Harriet had come up to stand behind Alexa, watching, with a strange tug to her heart, the changing play of expression on the girl’s face as she stared at herself.

“I suppose I’ll never be a raging beauty, will I?” Alexa said diffidently. “Not one of the fashionable kind, anyway, with tiny rosebud mouths that simper instead of smile and faces like pink and white china dolls that don’t show feeling…”

“Sometimes it’s just as well not to show one’s feelings too openly,” Harriet said quietly, but Alexa was too caught up in her game of self-assessment to pay more than token attention.

“Oh, I think I know better than that, of course. But now you must please tell me frankly if my nose is too short—and too thin as well? And my eyebrows—how I wish they were more arched than straight. And…you see how they actually slant a little bit at the temples? But I suppose there is nothing very much I can do about all my defects, including the fact that dark eyes are hardly in fashion at the moment; unless I can manage to make myself all the rage by making every man think I am fascinating!”

“Well…” Harriet cocked her head to one side, studying Alexa’s eager face almost as critically as the girl herself had done, before she said judiciously: “At least you have quite an arresting face, my dear, which I consider the next best thing to being thought fascinating. You have white, even teeth and an attractive smile when you do smile, as well as nice high cheekbones and unusual hair-coloring…and that is quite enough, I think, since I do not on any account want to turn your head.”

“Oh, you could never do that, but you have paid me the greatest compliment in the world by telling me that I have an arresting face. Do I really? Perhaps I need not feel quite so nervous now that you have told me that. And at least I do not freckle under the sun. But…”

“Enough!” Harriet said sternly. “I want you to sit down and eat all of your breakfast before it gets too cold; and at once! There’s a lot to be done before we get you quite ready to be the belle of the ball tonight, my dear.”

“Belle of the ball” indeed. For all of her surface bravado, Alexa could not help the feelings of uncertainty and something akin to fear that stayed with her, making her wish fervently to be anywhere else but here, on exhibition before scores of watching, curious, critical eyes. But she wasn’t a coward, she told herself over and over again. And even if this ordeal seemed worse than facing a charging bull elephant, well, it would be over eventually, and until then all she had to do was to act. Pretend that she was someone else much older and much more experienced who was used to making slaves of men, that was all.

Pretend—an amusing game like “charades.” What role would she play? Cinderella? Cleopatra? Diane de Poitiers? Or innocent Little Red Riding Hood? Her hands felt clammy as she stood in front of the mirror as rigid as a statue while Harriet gave orders to four chattering “sewing women” who had been summoned to make last minute alterations to her ball gown. It had taken at least two hours to subdue her unruly curls into a fashionably sleek coiffure—looped braids on either side of a prim middle-parting threaded with pearl encrusted gold ribbons—a matching “ferronière” around her forehead.

Faint strains of music drifted up through the open windows, and Alexa could not help whispering, “We are not late, are we?” while Harriet was still trying to decide on what jewelry she should wear. From the case she had brought along with her Harriet produced several items, now holding them against Alexa’s bare throat and then discarding them.

“Not suitable…too opulent…not sapphires with a gold and white gown…” And then, irritably, “Of course we are not late! The musicians are merely tuning their instruments, that is all. As if I would allow you to be late!”

With a sigh of resignation Alexa returned to studying her mirrored image once more, hardly caring by now if she wore any jewelry or not, for the fairy-princess gown her dearest Uncle John had magically produced for her seemed more than enough to help her feel like an enchanted princess tonight. Arresting. Would they really think she was arresting? The very latest fashion in Europe, Uncle John had assured her with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. And it had been especially created for her by the leading designer in Paris—all in white and gold—white silk overskirt delicately sprigged with gold fleur de lys opening at the point where her tightly fitting basque dipped into a vee to reveal shimmering cloth-of-gold—a gossamer-delicate fabric that Sir John had obtained in India. Rows and rows of tiny ruffles all about the full skirts, which almost swept the floor, and matched those accenting a bateau neckline that left most of her shoulders bare while allowing her short, tight sleeves to barely peep out beneath. And there were knots of gold ribbon to further ornament her overskirt as well, and gold satin dancing slippers…

“Here! I think I’ve found just the right thing at last. This pretty and unusually designed gold necklace of your mother’s that matches the bracelet she gave you on your seventeenth birthday. Exactly right. Alexa, you are not wearing your bracelet, and I know that I reminded you to do so just before we left. Surely you cannot have lost it, especially when you know how much it meant to your mama! Please try to think where you might have left it. I could have sworn I noticed you wearing it yesterday. Oh dear—this room is in such a state of confusion…”

Harriet, preoccupied and edgy, did not notice how white Alexa had suddenly become in spite of the red rose petals that had been vigorously rubbed along her cheekbones to give them a glow. Her bracelet! She never took it off, and she clearly remembered seeing it reflected in the moonlight before her whole night had been spoiled by something she’d much rather not remember. But when could it have fallen off?

“Well? For heaven’s sake, do try to remember. It’s almost time we should be downstairs to join the Governor and Mrs. Mackenzie when they begin to receive their guests.”

Alexa found her voice with difficulty. “I know it is somewhere here, Aunt Harry. I think I took it off before I had my bath, and…but how can I remember now? I promise to find it later—I know I shall—but not now when I can hardly think and it is almost time…”

To her relief she heard her aunt snap: “Oh bother! I suppose you are right and we do have to hurry just now. Here, let me tie this gold ribbon around your wrist to make do for the moment. And now turn around…” As Alexa moved automatically, almost like a puppet, Harriet contemplated her critically before saying, “Well, so you are finally ready, I suppose. Here, take your silk shawl just in case you might need it later—and do remember to hold your head up!”

There was nothing to be nervous of. She must remember what Sir John had told her earlier. Courage. Once you faced what you had thought of as an obstacle as squarely as you would face a challenge, it would never seem insurmountable. And yet, as Alexa descended the stairs with her aunt, everything about her seemed to have become hazy and unreal, like a blurred scene watched through a gauze curtain. Her skirts, with the starched and stiffened petticoats she had been made to wear underneath them, seemed heavy and cumbersomely wide as well as being hot. She held on to the polished wood banisters and saw, looking down, the flashes of gold made by her pretty dancing slippers.

“How lovely you look, my dear, and what a beautiful ball gown! They’re all going to envy you; and you’re not to mind, d’you hear?”

Alexa barely remembered to curtsy her thanks to the Governor’s lady for her generous compliment.

“You look just as exquisitely beautiful as I knew you would when I first pictured you in this dress, Alexa.” Sir John kissed her cold cheek lightly as he gave her icy hands a reassuring squeeze and whispered, “And remember, you have a mind that matches your beauty; so be sure of yourself, as you have every reason to be.”

Alexa found that even helping to receive the seemingly endless number of guests that had been invited to the ball this evening did not make her feel awkward with Sir John standing next to her; and by the time they had all sat down to dinner she had already begun to feel a little more self-confident. Course followed course; but all she had to do was push the food around on her plate after she had taken a bite or so and then that particular course would soon be cleared away to make way for another.

As the guest of honor, Alexa found herself seated to the right of the Governor himself; but since Sir John was seated on her right, she managed quite comfortably. In fact, she found that the Right Honorable James Alexander Stewart Mackenzie was a kind man in addition to having fathered seven children (all away at school in England), which she felt made him all the more understanding. Not only that, but he was quite a scholar; being particularly learned in Latin and delighted at her knowledge of the language, as well as the literature of ancient Rome.

In time, Alexa’s smiles became genuine instead of forced, so that her dimple showed. Studying her while she listened and laughed over some dry anecdote the Governor related, Sir John Travers reflected that it was in some ways a pity she did not realize how attractive she was—this child-woman he had watched grow up. Had she lived in Europe she could have become all the rage; but with a little more experience and polish, of course. There was the almost unique color of her hair, with its variety of shadings; and the startling contrast of those slate-dark eyes against a pale gold skin of the kind that welcomed the sun instead of having to hide from it. She had the supple, athletic figure of a young Amazon as well, and it was a pity that women’s clothes these days were meant to disguise and conceal every natural curve and line of the feminine body. In fact, the thought that his little Alexa’s free, bold spirit would some day be caged and confined by the stays and corsets of convention and what was supposed to be fashionable was almost intolerable. But perhaps he could do something about it? A challenge, that was what he needed at this point in his life, when all of the vast fortune he had accumulated over the years merely for the fun and adventure of it could not buy him health or happiness or an extension on life itself. A challenge…stimulation…a rescue? And why not? Ah yes, why not indeed?

“Uncle John? I’ve been chattering my head off for the past few minutes, practicing on you, as you said I should do. But you haven’t heard a single word, have you? Did I sound too vapid and inane? Or just too boring to be worth your attention?”

Alexa’s reproachful voice made Sir John chuckle as he patted her arm and said, “Not at all, my dear! Just had a lot on my mind, that’s all; and some of my thoughts concerned you, as a matter of fact. But I see Mrs. Mackenzie giving the signal for all you ladies to retire; so we’ll talk about it later, shall we?”

There was a rustling of long skirts and the scrape of chairs as all the ladies rose in concert to follow the Governor’s wife; and Alexa, reluctantly, had no choice but to do likewise.

As they walked out Mrs. Mackenzie made a point of holding Alexa back for a few moments; her smile kind and almost conspiratorial.

“I just wanted to tell you, my dear, that you’re doing very well indeed, and you mustn’t let being thrown in with a crowd of women intimidate you. Makes me remember my own coming out ball, y’know! I was as nervous inside as you must be, but I didn’t let them see it either. And—ah yes—what I really started out to say was that I don’t want you to think there will be a lack of young men to dance with later on. The dinner was for the pillars of society here, if you know what I mean, but once the dancing begins I’m sure they’ll flock around you like flies—all our eligible young officers and Civil Servants. And we’re to have distinguished guests from at least two of the foreign ships anchored at Colombo Roadstead as well—at least one British title among them! We had some of them to dinner last night; a pity you were too tired to join us. But I see all the ladies watching us curiously, and the last thing I meant to do was to make you feel conspicuous. I only meant to tell you, my dear, that I like you because I can tell you’ve got spirit; and that I want you to enjoy yourself tonight. You’re only young once, after all, and why not?”

Having delivered her speech in a rapid undertone, Mrs. Mackenzie swept a somewhat dazed Alexa ahead of her into the drawing room, where she found herself seated between the Governor’s wife and a milky-faced blonde of about her age who was gowned in ruffles and flounces from her hem to her neck and down again to her elbow-length sleeves.

Charlotte Langford had attended an Academy for Young Ladies in England before her formidable mother had decided that it was time she found herself a suitable husband. And here in Ceylon, where there were not very many blond and blue-eyed young English girls to be seen, she could have her choice of the most eligible bachelors—as long as her mama approved, of course.

Her mama had very decided opinions on everything, and Charlotte had always been guided by her; but in the case of Miss Howard she had not been quite as forthright as she usually was.

“Now remember, Charlotte, that if you are introduced to her I will expect you to keep a detached and Christian viewpoint. You know what I mean?”

“Oh yes! Of course, Mama!”

“Good! And I am trusting, of course, in the way in which you have been brought up and the education you have received back home. It will disappoint me if you should show any signs of being patronizing towards a young woman who has not been fortunate enough to have gone back to England since her birth, poor child. And as for the kind of schooling she might have received, I have no idea of it. But if Sir John Travers is sponsoring her it must mean, I suppose, that at least she is presentable enough…”

“Yes, Mama. But I am afraid I do not quite understand if I am to make friends with Miss Howard or…or not.”

“Oh heavens, Charlotte! Don’t you listen to anything I tell you? If she has been accepted by the Governor and his wife as well as Sir John, I see no reason why you should not make her acquaintance at least. And I’m sure that I can trust you not to…well, not to be influenced in any way your papa and I might not approve of; and to find out for yourself if Miss Howard might prove to be a suitable friend or not.”

“Oh yes, Mama!”

Charlotte had found out long ago that it made life much more pleasant to say “yes” to Mama. Even Papa did so, and he was a colonel and used to giving orders. But now that she was seated right next to Miss Howard, what would Mama expect her to do? The seemingly self-possessed and fashionably gowned young woman who had been able to carry on an animated conversation with Sir John Travers and Governor Mackenzie could surely not be the same person who, according to the gossip that filtered down from upcountry, went riding dressed like a man and hunted wild game in the company of the young officers stationed nearby her father’s coffee plantation without the benefit of a chaperone? Used to her mama’s close guidance in everything, Charlotte could not help but feel rather nervous at being left on her own, so to speak. She was not used to anything or anyone out of the ordinary and had no notion of how to deal with Miss Howard and keep her mama happy at the same time, although she had to admit to a certain degree of curiosity….

Suddenly, taking Charlotte quite aback, Alexa turned to her with a bright smile that Charlotte could not know was pasted on.

“I’m so sorry if I have appeared rude! But this is my first experience of such a formal gathering, and I have not yet discovered what is considered correct and what is not—so I hope you’ll forgive me for introducing myself to you, since nobody else has troubled to do so. I am Alexandra Howard, and you…?”

Charlotte’s mouth had dropped open with surprise at such an unexpected and unconventionally forthright approach, and she could not help but dart an almost desperately appealing look in her mama’s direction before she managed to stammer: “I…Oh, I do hope you will not think…Since we are seated next to each other I should perhaps have made an effort…. I am Miss Langford, you see. Colonel Jack Langford is my father, and that is my mama across the room. I had been quite looking forward to making your acquaintance, Miss Howard, since we have all heard so much about you.”

“Have you? What have you heard about me?” Under straight dark brows Alexa’s storm-cloud eyes gazed with uncompromising directness into Charlotte Langford’s reddening face, never wavering while Charlotte began to stammer awkwardly again, her cheeks looking positively blotchy by now.

“I hope you did not think I meant…All the young officers who have been transferred here from upcountry are always so full of admiration for your courage and…and daring, you see, and of how well you ride and shoot…”

“How nice of them to be so flattering!” Alexa said in a noncommittal voice, discovering nastily that Miss Langford had particularly ugly teeth that looked yellow, and watery blue eyes that kept dropping before hers. How she hated gossip and gossips!

“They are actually staying with Uncle John—in his guest house! He is a good friend of her papa’s, Miss Langford informed me condescendingly. And I’m sorry, Aunt Harriet, but although I did manage to remain polite, I cannot like her. You should have noticed the way she kept glancing towards her mama for approval every second we were engaged in conversation; and in any case she has no intelligent conversation at all. All she does is quote her mama or pretend to pity me because I was never packed off to school in England as she was.”

Alexa had for once been relieved to catch her aunt’s imperative eyes and follow her dutifully upstairs to their rooms when Mrs. Mackenzie had kindly suggested that some of the ladies might wish to make use of some of the retiring rooms that had been set aside for them before the dancing began.

“You are going to appear fresh and sparkling when we go downstairs again, my dear,” Harriet had said firmly. “Some more of that rose cologne on your wrists and temples perhaps, but not so much as to be overpowering of course. And perhaps some rose petals rubbed on your lips and just a slight touch of vaseline to give them a slight shine; although you must never tell your mother I suggested such a thing. And let’s shake out your gown at the back…and yes, I noticed you were talking with the Langford girl—Charlotte, I think her name is. It might do you good to have a female friend of about your own age for a change, you know.”

Although Alexa had forced herself to be still and allow Aunt Harriet and the two attendant servant women to do as they pleased with her ever since they had come upstairs, she had found it harder and harder to subdue the rebellious side of her nature that was already simmering under the politely simpering, naive surface she was supposed to present. And then her aunt’s expressed opinion that she might do well to make a friend of Miss Langford had brought all her smouldering feelings of resentment tumbling out into passionate speech.

Her uncompromising brows drawn together in a dangerous scowl she was not even aware of, Alexa paused only long enough to take a long breath before continuing: “And what is more I could never even think of becoming friendly with anyone that silly—who is not capable of carrying on an intelligent conversation and thinks that gossip is a substitute. Why, I doubt that the poor creature has a thought in her head that wasn’t put there by her mama!”

Harriet, realizing the danger signals belatedly, said sharply: “Alexandra! You’d better wipe that ugly look off your face before we go downstairs, my girl, or you’ll be certain to give all the spiteful gossips such as Mrs. Langford the satisfaction of nodding their heads and repeating that you’re obviously unused to being in polite society. And that would be a great pity for all of us who have faith in your strength of character, as well as for yourself, don’t you think?”

Realizing that Aunt Harry had as usual managed to say exactly the right thing by subtly putting her on her honor while showing her a challenge at the same time, Alexa could only fall silent, gritting her teeth with the effort. Even if she could not make friends with Charlotte Langford or any of the other young women she might meet, she could and would show them that she, Alexa Howard, could play any role she chose to play and do much better than they could. Hadn’t she promised herself that she would be a success tonight and make all the nasty old gossips eat their words?

With a sudden whirl of skirts Alexa turned about to face her aunt with her scowl replaced by a brilliant smile.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Harriet. Tonight I promise I’ll make you all proud of me; and I won’t lose my temper either, no matter how provoked I feel. And what’s more I’ll be polite to everyone, even those people I don’t like; and I won’t appear too intelligent for their liking either. In fact they’re all going to end up saying what a well-brought-up young lady I am—you’ll see!”