Authors: The Conquest
“I’m so glad we came by water, like in the old days, instead of by Vauxhall Bridge!” Alexandria exclaimed, smiling as she breathed in the smell of the brackish waters of the Thames.
“Imagine!” she went on dreamily. “In the old days this is how everyone got around London. Only rich people owned coaches and even they didn’t trust traveling in them. So for centuries if you needed to go anywhere you went by foot, on horseback, or by the riverways. The river was covered almost bank to bank with wherries and barges, skiffs and ferries, all kinds of boats. I’ve seen the pictures! I thought I’d see it too when I first came here, but though there are still so many boats it’s nothing like I imagined. There are still river stairs everywhere too, but I was surprised to see people don’t use them much anymore.”
“You’re right,” Damon Ryder said. “They built over many of the stairs and are building over more. We’ve gotten used to our comforts. Coaches are a lot faster, less damp, and a more direct way to get where you’re going.”
Alexandria gazed at the old houses standing shoulder to shoulder on the riverbank. “Many of those houses had water entrances, just like in Venice. They’re bricked up now too, I suppose,” she said wistfully.
The Ryders exchanged amused smiles.
“Mind you,” Alexandria added with an embarrassed laugh, “I haven’t been to Venice any more than I visited the past, but I read about things and you can’t know how exciting it is to see them for myself. And I do love water. It’s a pity we don’t have more than a pond near our cottage at home.”
“Venice
is
astonishing,” Damon said. “I have to take you there one day,” he told his wife. “Perhaps you’d like to come with us then, Ally?”
“Of course I would!” Alexandria answered with enthusiasm. Then she felt foolish, realizing how inane she sounded leaping at a mere politeness, and how unlikely that invitation was to ever be issued again.
“One day, then,” Gilly promised, “When we’re done with all this breeding nonsense,” she added. “Because I’m not very fashionable, and I won’t leave my Annalise with a maidservant until she’s at least seventeen!”
They joked about that and other things as their boatman sculled them over the water to the gardens. The boat picked up speed as it caught the current, and Alexandria felt her worries flowing away too as they left the buildings of London behind and ventured into
the countryside. Only it wasn’t the countryside as she knew it at all, she thought, wrapping her arms around herself as though she felt a chill, but really hugging the pleasure of it close. Because Vauxhall Gardens was only a short trip from the heart of London, and it was the premiere pleasure garden in all England, if not the whole Continent.
She’d read about it, seen illustrations of it in her bible,
The Gentleman’s Magazine
. There’d be a rotunda, with an orchestra playing, there’d be artworks on display and more fashionable people than she’d ever seen on display, as they strolled the gardens to inspect the grottos and other carefully constructed sylvan retreats. Exhibitions and spectacles of all sorts were staged there too. There was a place to have dinner, and if they stayed on and the weather held, thousands of glittering lanterns would be lit so there could be dancing by torch and gas and moonlight.
“Here we are!” Damon said, pointing downriver.
Alexandria saw landing steps with many boats converging on a landing slip alongside an embankment, with steps leading to green lawns beyond. The dock was decorated with gaily colored banners and pennants. Their boat headed toward a slip marked by tall striped poles, like those she’d seen in illustrations of Venice. Alexandria caught her breath. This
was
a once in a lifetime experience. She’d hoard it up against the days ahead when there would be nothing new on her horizon, when she’d need to sit back and remember the joys of this visit in order to go on. She resolved to enjoy it, knowing that those joys were as fleeting as this moment on the swiftly flowing river.
As they approached shore, Alexandria straightened
and preened a little. She couldn’t wait for Drum to see her. He might not remember her in the future, but if he did she hoped he’d remember her as she looked today.
Gilly had given her the new bonnet she wore. She’d protested she didn’t need or want presents until an exasperated Gilly insisted the bonnet wasn’t new or expensive, and would go to charity if she didn’t take it. Alexandria half believed it, the other half being settled the moment she put on the sunbonnet. It was blond straw and the brim framed her face. She excused herself for accepting it by telling herself it protected her skin from the sun and wind, and not just because it set off her profile perfectly.
Gilly had hit upon the idea of pinning fresh red roses on the side of the brim. They matched Alexandria’s new gown exactly. The gown was ready made, the only one she’d bought since she’d got to London. It wasn’t expensive because it wasn’t for formal wear, but was nevertheless the most beautiful thing she’d ever spent her money on, the most perfect thing she’d ever owned. It was rose-red, thin muslin with a gauzy overskirt. Her neckline was low, but not absurdly so, making her figure look lush, but still ladylike. She carried a blond silk parasol, lent by her hostess, and wore a locket on her breast and a smile on her lips to go with it. Alexandria felt she’d never looked finer.
Until she saw Lady Annabelle and the others milling on the grass watching them arrive.
Even from the boat, Alexandria could immediately see how splendid Annabelle looked, the way she stood out from the crowd. The woman rejoiced in wearing blue to match her eyes, Alexandria thought with sinking heart, so why the devil did she choose to wear
dusky rose today? And such a gown! Silken, shimmering in the sunlight, magnificently styled to show its wearer’s equally magnificent shape. A patterned shawl protected her white shoulders, but she wore it open enough to show the tops of those white breasts. Her charming pink bonnet had a stylish array of feathers that made Alexandria’s brave roses look exactly like what they were: cheap and impromptu ornaments for a simple country woman.
A big, simple country woman,
Alexandria thought mournfully, eyeing Annabelle’s perfect little figure.
There were at least a half dozen other young women in equally stylish gowns thronged on the lawn, all in radiant colors and looks, all waiting for the Earl of Drummond to come judge them, like Paris awarding the apple, Alexandria thought sourly. Still, she couldn’t blame them. They fussed with their hair and fluffed out their skirts, but they were really trying to arrange their futures. The Earl of Drummond had a title and a fortune that each of the waiting ladies wanted to share with him, for life. Alexandria was only trying to collect another memory of him to brighten her life. Very different things, for very different people. She belonged here as much as they did, though.
Alexandria raised her chin, picked up the hem of her skirt, accepted Damon Ryder’s hand, and stepped out of the boat to the shore, to wait with the rest.
She didn’t feel that confident for long.
No one spoke to her but the Ryders. The other young women didn’t even speak to each other, they were too busy posing as they scanned the river and waited. It was so painfully obvious that they were breathlessly awaiting Drum that Alexandria wished
she’d never come. Then his boat slid into view, and she forgot wishing and looked forward to reality.
She saw Eric’s tall form and bright hair first. But she sighed with relief when she saw Drum in the boat with him. She wondered how he was going to leave the boat. Had he brought his chair? They couldn’t wheel it through water or up the steps. Would Eric have to carry him to it? How embarrassing. For one mean moment, she hoped he would. That might help her see Drum as only a man, after all. She glanced around and saw the sudden tension that gripped the welcoming party waiting for him. They didn’t care if he crawled off. They were right. Nothing would diminish the Earl of Drummond. Not now, and never again. He could arrive on a door, the way he’d entered her house, and it wouldn’t matter.
The boat docked. The little group on the lawn pressed forward to greet him. And then the Earl of Drummond rose to his feet! He rose to his full long lean height—with a crutch tucked under each arm. He wore casual clothing, a well-fitted dark blue jacket, white linen, tight-fitting buckskin breeches, and shining high top boots—
boot
. He wore only one. A thick bandage wrapped around the lower portion of one leg, covering his splint as well as his other foot. Otherwise, for the first time since she’d known him, Drum looked like any other tall, dark, wildly attractive gentleman.
She saw his teeth flash in a white smile when he saw their expressions of surprise. He looked like one of her boys might after performing a particularly difficult stunt. He took a step forward—and swayed on the two sticks of wood as the boat moved in a swell beneath him. The gasps around her were audible.
Drum turned to Eric. “Your arm, my friend,” he said. “I can walk to shore, but I’d prefer not to swim there.”
His title, his fortune—and his grace
, Alexandria thought as she felt her own face relax into a silly smile.
His charm and effortless grace.
There was that. And
that
was the reason she stood there grinning like a fool, with all the rest of them, all the other hopelessly yearning females.
S
HE DIDN
’
T KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED
. O
NE MINUTE
, Alexandria was walking along the paths at Vauxhall with the Ryders, feeling as though she was in some royal procession, grudgingly trudging along behind Good King Drum and his consort, Queen Annabelle, with a long trail of ladies in waiting behind her. The next, she was at Drum’s side—well, not too close to his side, because he had to have room to swing those crutches—and Annabelle had been maneuvered back a few steps and taken over by Eric. Alexandria’s confusion must have showed on her face, because Drum grinned when he saw her expression.
But that was also because she had a moment of disorientation when she had to look up at Drum for the first time since they’d met. The world tilted. When it settled, she and the earl were in their proper places at last. He’d been imposing before; now he was imperial. She’d known he was tall, of course, but never realized just how lanky he was. Lanky was the wrong word. His
form was sinuous and lithe. She couldn’t think of a word to say to this tall, dark, and commanding stranger.
“Yes, very different, isn’t it, now that I’m on my feet, or rather on my arms?” he asked with a grin as he swung along the path, “We’ve never been on an equal plane, have we? We still aren’t because now I’m a head taller than you. It’s very gratifying for me, but it must be a shock to you. After all, you’ve known me best in a horizontal position. You found me that way, but we really met in your bed and became friendlier the longer I lay on my back. Then when you came to visit me here I sat and stared into your…lap.”
She suppose she should have been shocked by his sly use of words because that’s what he probably wanted her to be. At the very least she could have turned her head aside and pretended she was blushing. Instead she laughed out loud. “Just what I was thinking,” she said.
That pleased him. “Forgive me,” he said, “but it’s delightful to be able to joke without thinking of consequences. It’s the privilege of old friends. Speaking of which…” His gaze took in every facet of her. “Let me presume further and tell you that you look lovely today. It’s more than Town polish, it’s Town gilding. New gown, new bonnet, new outlook on life, I hope? They all look good on you, you know.”
“All three,” she said happily, seeing how other visitors to the gardens were looking at them—at Drum because he was Drum, at her because she was with him and didn’t look wildly out of place there. She held her head higher. “You’re doing wonderfully on your crutches.”
“I’m beginning to,” he admitted, leaning on one for a moment, and pointing with the other to show her his skill before he moved down the walk again. “At first they were painful but I’ve got the hang of them now. Practice is everything. In fact, I’d bet I could go faster than anyone here if I wanted to, because I can swing out on them and cover more ground than I could on two feet. I’d love to show you, but you’d all have to trot—or sprint to keep up with me.”
She had the instant image of all the ladies in his train picking up their skirts and dashing after him. She tried to repress a snicker. He must have read her mind. He smiled.
“Yes,” he said, “it would be exactly like one of Mr. Rowlandson’s cartoons, wouldn’t it? Me flailing down the walk, crutches flying, all elbows and knees pumping away, the ladies in hot pursuit. Too bad I’m a gentleman or I’d test my theory.”
“That’s conceited of you,” she said.
“Very,” he agreed.
They laughed, but not for long. Soon Alexandria had to fall back to give another lady the chance to walk beside him. She was still so aglow from their little conversation she didn’t mind. It wouldn’t have done her any good if she did.
She noticed their procession was becoming a parade, picking up more people as it went along, like a snowball rolling downhill. Their party had set out with mostly women following in Drum and Eric’s wake. Because of the assortment of fair young women, soon young and older gentlemen began to join their ranks too. By the time Drum sighted and hailed Lord Dalton and his bride, their company resembled a parading of
the troops, or so Gilly murmured. Or a wedding party, as Alexandria overheard Annabelle’s mama titter to a friend. Because somehow, her daughter had snagged the lead position alongside Drum again.
Well, and so what? Alexandria thought with a little hitch in her breathing that had nothing to do with the pace Drum was setting. She’d had her look at him. Still her heart sank as she trailed behind the elegant couple, because now she had to face the fact that she’d been fooling herself. Because with all she’d told herself, she
had
obviously hoped for more. Or else she wouldn’t be feeling this low and cheated, and sorry for herself.
Facts were facts, but she conveniently kept forgetting them. Annabelle was a titled lady, and she herself was an anonymous foundling. Women like herself didn’t marry men like Drum, except in fairy tales, and even then only if they turned out to be long lost princesses.
That
she was not. And if it wasn’t to be a marriage, it couldn’t be anything for them. There was really nothing else for them to do together, at least not in this world of theirs.
So she’d seen him. She’d have this day and then that ball. Then she’d go home and get on with it. What that “it” might be, she didn’t know. But it would have to be enough. Alexandria stared at Drum’s back and knew that was all she’d ever see of him in the future.
“I’ve seen cats let mice get farther away than Annabelle lets him stray,” Gilly muttered darkly, seeing the direction of Alexandria’s gaze. “But don’t worry, Drum plays deep games.”
“It doesn’t matter, not really, at least to me,” Alexandria murmured in reply. “It does to you because you’re old friends and good ones, and will see each other of
ten down through the years. So of course whom he marries is important to you. But it isn’t to me, except theoretically. Please think about it. I have.”
Gilly muttered something darker. Then she smiled, radiantly. “Huh. If I believed that, I’d still be in a wretched slum, lost and alone in the world except for my little sister and a future of hard work and harder times. But I always believed in impossibilities, or at least I was told to and taught to, and tried to, and look what happened! Nothing I planned and everything I’d have wished for if I’d known enough to wish for them. Life’s surprising. No one ever knows what will happen in the next minute, do they?”
“No one,” her husband, walking next to her, agreed. “Except me. We’re going to the rotunda to see the art exhibition, so be prepared to exclaim with false enthusiasm, please. But then, if we’re good, we get to sit down and eat.”
“
She’ll
snabble the seat next to him,” Gilly told Alexandria, tilting one shoulder toward Annabelle. “But we’ll have a fine old time. Just you see!”
To Alexandria’s amazement, they did.
The weather held clear and mild. When they got to the rotunda Alexandria saw it was as grand as a palace, and as big as one too. She was overwhelmed by its cool majesty. After viewing the art, Drum’s party sat down at tables at the side of the concourse, in the shade of towering trees. Waiters served punch, wafer-thin slices of ham, mutton, and cheese, followed by pastries, cakes, and ices they could nibble as they commented on the fashionable people strolling by. Those strollers seemed to step in time to the constant music they heard. An orchestra played, and when they tired,
roving musicians and singers kept filling the air with song.
Drum’s table was taken over by Annabelle, her mama, and a cluster of other fast-footed young women and their hopeful mamas. Eric sat next to Alexandria. The Ryders, another merry young couple, and two amusing young gentlemen friends of theirs completed their party. They laughed so much that other tables turned to look at them with wistful envy. And Drum looked their way more often than not.
That
was something to remember, Alexandria thought as she laughed at a jest someone in her party made. She wished she could commission one of the artists she’d seen swanning about the rotunda gallery inhaling praise. She’d have him paint up this day in yellows and peach, for sunshine and mirth, so she could hang it on her wall and remember the warmth and joy of it forever. This day was hers, whatever the future brought.
And so what if half of that happiness was because Drum kept looking their way?
Drum couldn’t dance, and so the entire party rose from their tables when the waltzes began, and strolled onward again. They bowed to old friends and introduced new ones. They exclaimed over each statue, arbor, and fishpond, and there were many. As the long summer afternoon stretched into twilight, one by one, little hidden lamps flickered on, like regiments of well-trained glow worms at work. Lanterns strung high in the trees blinked on as they were lit by teams of lamp lighters working quickly and silently. Skeins of tiny lamps on stands of rhododendrons looked like sparkling spiderwebs. Smaller ones glowed like stage
lamps to guide each foot along the wandering paths that led from the grand concourse into darker retreats.
But Alexandria was getting used to the opulence and spectacle. What had been magical increasingly seemed only clever artifice. She began to see that the place was entirely artificial, without a natural thing except for the flowers and trees themselves, and she wasn’t sure about some of them. Everything had been cleverly engineered to please the eye. She admitted her jaded reaction might also be because she hadn’t seen Drum again, except from afar. It could also be because her toes were pinching in her new slippers, or because Gilly and Damon had fallen behind. They were strolling together talking in whispers, lost in the wonder of the place and their own sweet murmurings. The last time Alexandria had seen Eric, he’d been captured by Miss Probisher. And Drum was likely still with Annabelle.
It wasn’t a good time for Alexandria to be left by herself. It was twilight, a bad time for any woman to be alone. Time for reflection, time for regrets. Now Alexandria accepted the day was coming to an end and that would soon mean the end to many more things. Her visit to London was almost over. Her cottage seemed a thousand miles away and yet she knew she was closer to it now than she’d been scant hours before. Most of her journey was already a memory and she knew the rest would soon be little more than that too. When would there ever be another such time for her again?
The day was done, the sun was gone, and so was the man she had dared dream about. She suddenly found herself as angry as she was sorrowful. Why should
some people get anything they wanted and others be left only to want things? Why should some be born with title, wealth, and the gender that gave them freedom to do what they wished, while others had to toil and do the best they could for themselves in a world that scorned those who hadn’t been born luckier? She didn’t hate Drum because of his good fortune, she only envied it, and grieved for the loss of the illusion of ever having him as the friend he’d called her. Friends were equals, after all. And where was her friend now?
Alexandria took off her bonnet and swung it by its strings as she walked along a narrow tree-lined path, deep in thought. She turned a corner and stopped short, her unhappy musings mercifully interrupted. She’d heard the burbling sound of running water above the far-off music, and had absently followed her ears. Now she stood gaping into a clearing that had suddenly opened in front of her. The water she heard came from a high waterfall, the water tumbling down over craggy rocks to fall in sheets into a pool. There was a cave just behind the cascade of water, visible only because it was outlined by hundreds of tiny wavering fairy lights.
“Your face,” a voice said at her shoulder. There was laughter and affection in Drum’s deep tones.
Startled, she swung around to stare at him.
He was gazing at the cascading water. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he went on. “And entirely false, like so much in Town. They placed it here to amaze people and it never fails. The effect’s achieved by dozens of tiny candles under glass, to protect them from the spray. They set them in the rocks behind and beside the waterfall, at the entrance to the cave. An old gent lives here. Yes. They actually pay him to live here, visitors
are encouraged to think of him as the hermit of the grotto. He doesn’t shave his beard, wears rags, and pokes his nose out now and then to give them a thrill. It’s not much, but it’s a livelihood. At night, he tends the candles, so it’s not that he just gets to breathe for his pay. No one gets to do that.”
“You do,” she said automatically, and was shocked. Her hand flew to her mouth. She’d actually said what she’d just been thinking. Her eyes went wide, she was aghast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“Didn’t you?” he tilted his head and looked down at her.
He was as surprised as she was. She’d as much as told him he was unfairly privileged. But instead of making light of it or snubbing her as he would anyone else who dared say such a thing, he found himself needing to defend his entitlement. “You’re not entirely wrong,” he said. “I was fortunate in my birth. But I assure you I’ve not been content with that, I’ve added to my wealth. Damon got me investing, very profitably too. It’s become an occupation of mine, along with meddling in politics. You’re right, though, in that I was given the money to invest, have the time to meddle, and never had to go out and get a position the way the hermit did.”
Alexandria wished she could take back her words when she heard the defensiveness in his voice. She’d been angry at him but that didn’t give her the right to hurt his feelings. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me,” she said honestly. “I had no right to say that. My mind was far away, you startled me.”
“Almost as much as you did me,” he said. He stood with his back to the lights so she couldn’t read his ex
pression. She could, however, see that they were alone together.
She was alone with a man in a hidden grove in the twilight, in a place infamous for its dark walks and secluded places where couples went for trysts, and more. But she felt entirely safe. He’d never take a liberty with her. That made her smile. It was, she admitted to herself now, one of the reasons she was so sad and angry with him tonight.