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So his young Amazon was primed to give battle? Sir John Travers spent a few extra seconds staring thoughtfully at the double doors of polished satinwood bound with brass that had just closed behind the ladies. He was sure that Alexa, with her clever mind and gift for ingenious argument, could hold her own against Mrs. Langford quite easily, if only she could manage not to lose her temper to the extent that she also lost all power of reasoning.
Sir John sighed rather heavily as he turned back to his brandy and cigar, thinking ruefully as he did that it was a pity indeed that the young had everything except experience and the wisdom and ability to exercise self-control, whereas those like himself who had learned life’s hard lessons no longer had youth or time enough to use the knowledge they had gained. Youth and knowledge and wisdom. Ah, to possess all three gifts at the same time was to rule the world, and perhaps that was why it so seldom happened that way.
Alexa. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth under his greying mustache as he remembered the leggy colt of a girl she had been when he first encountered her. Even then she had had spirit, an eager, questioning mind, and courage as well. She, and not poor delicate Freddy, should have been the boy, of course; but what was the use in regretting what was? Alexa was no longer a girl but a grown young woman—an attractive young woman too, with a kind of aura about her that made her somehow unique, although she herself was as yet quite unaware of this special quality in herself that would always cause her to be noticed and singled out wherever she went. She was still quite immature, for all of her book-knowledge and education and that quick mind of hers. But there was so much potential there! Potential he had helped to nurture and had hoped to see realized some day if only…Well, what was the point in thinking about it now? His doctors had decreed otherwise, and mortal man cannot circumvent fate. So be it! At least he had been able to arrange that she’d always have enough money, so that she need never have to feel herself obligated to sell herself on the marriage market, even when Freddy inherited. Beyond that, his greatest hope was that when she was ready she would find the right kind of man for her—one she could converse with, who would appreciate her intelligent mind and free spirit and love her for what she was and not for what he thought he could make her into.
Sentimental old fool! You can only do the best you can and hope for the rest; and since you won’t be around to see how it turns out in the end, there’s no use worrying about it, is there? Clearing his throat fiercely, Sir John relit his cigar and dragged on it far too deeply, forgetting his doctor’s orders. Even though he had chosen an exceptionally mild one, it made him cough, and he swore inwardly. When he looked up at last after his coughing fit had ended, Sir John realized with disgust that his butler was hovering over him while pretending to rearrange everything on the silver tray in an ostentatiously significant manner that obviously called for comment.
“Well?” Sir John grumbled testily. “And what the devil d’you think you’re up to, fiddling about like that? If you’ve anything to say to me, be out with it!”
Velu, who had run his master’s house in Colombo for over fifteen years, merely turned down the corners of his mouth with a look of patent disapproval.
“I hear doctor say only half cigar, and much better Master take no cigar!” And then, noting indications of an imminent explosion, Velu went on hastily and with some relish, “But I come to tell Master that it is better, maybe, that Master retire to Study Room with door locked? Ladies make many arguments and the big lady is very angry. With mouth open like this…”
Velu’s imitation of Mrs. Langford actually left speechless for a change tempted Sir John to chuckle, and he was not able to compose his features quickly enough to prevent the sharp-eyed Velu from noticing his mouth twitch before he said drily: “I see. And I won’t ask you how many times you invented excuses to go in there, you old rascal, but I’m sure you didn’t miss anything, did you, eh? What of the young ladies?”
“Ah…” Velu rolled his eyes with pretended concern. “Big lady’s young missy crying and our missy Alex she smile but speaking sharp like knife. Good thing she have no knife or gun or maybe I think big lady be dead! Too bad!”
“I won’t ask how that last pithy statement was meant to be taken,” Sir John said after he had cleared his throat loudly to cover his involuntary chortle. He added thoughtfully, “But I suppose you are right in suggesting that I’d do well to take myself off to my study, where I have urgent correspondence to deal with and must on no account be disturbed.”
As Velu sprang to pull back his chair, Sir John reflected with a grim kind of amusement that this was certainly the first time anyone could have accused him of running away from a battlefield. But under the circumstances, and in view of his decided partiality, there could be no question that in this case at least discretion was most definitely the better part of valor.
“Oh, and Velu…” Settled before his desk with the open French doors bringing in the night-smells of dew-wet grass and frangipani and jasmine, Sir John held up one hand to halt his servant. “If by some chance you might have reason to visit the drawing room—perhaps to ask if the ladies need anything before they retire—you might just say a few words to Miss Alexa in your tongue, perhaps a mumbled undertone. You’re good at that when you imagine you’ve something to grumble about, eh? Tell her…The devil take it! Just make sure she’s not about to lose her temper and start throwing things, you hear? You might move my Ming vases out of there. That ought to give her a hint. Tell her those were my orders and she’ll understand very well what I meant. That’s all. And since I might go outside for a stroll later on, I don’t want you sitting up for half the night either. That clear? You’re getting to be an old man too. Hah!”
Poor faithful old Velu! He’d be getting a pension, of course, and enough money to buy himself that land in Jaffna he’d always wanted, as well as a young wife to give him children before it was too late. Too late…You spent your time and energy accumulating money and possessions and forgot why you were doing so in the process, until suddenly it was too late to enjoy their use and you saw them for what they were—more clutter and things to leave behind when you had to go.
No, dammit! Sir John slammed down the glass he had been holding and began to pace about the large, shelf-lined room as he usually did when he was deep in thought. Dammit, he thought again, I haven’t gone yet! Still got some time left to me if all those doctor chaps were right and if I don’t overdo things. Time enough, perhaps to make sure it wasn’t all for nothing after all, not just wasted! Made use of—enjoyed. That’s what money was for, and possessions. And why the deuce should the Crown get any of it, anyhow?
11
By the time Sir John had stopped his pacing back and forth, Alexa had already regained the comparative sanctuary of her bedchamber, although she had had to spend several minutes leaning with her back against the door she had slammed shut behind her before she managed to catch her breath. These silly, tight corsets she was supposed to wear in order to be fashionable…And that even more ridiculous woman who reminded her of an ugly old crow with her taste for carrion…!
Oh! How dearly I should have loved to indulge myself by flying into a simply towering rage, when I might really have said or done something quite outrageous. How I would have loved to see their faces then! Why, if Velu hadn’t appeared…
Even in the midst of thinking such dark thoughts Alexa’s sense of humor interrupted for long enough to make her start to grin unwillingly. For she had been eying one of poor Uncle John’s precious Ming vases consideringly when Velu had sidled in to remove them, muttering what sounded like incantations under his breath until she understood that instead of praying to his Hindu gods he was trying to warn her. Something like “lose mind, lose all,” which may or may not have been an old Tamil proverb. But at any rate Velu had been just in time to prevent an outright disaster, which would have ended, Alexa thought ruefully, in her being sent home in disgrace—even if it hadn’t been at all her fault.
Thinking back to her confrontation with Mrs. Langford made Alexa scowl all over again, and the nervous ayah Velu had sent to her to help her undress became even more nervous, so that her fingers fumbled over their task at first—until she realized that “Alex missy’s” glowering look was not meant for her.
Charlotte, Alexa was thinking, was merely a nasty little gossip and a tattletale who didn’t like to be ignored, as well as being her mama’s very echo. But Mrs. Langford…! Alexa’s lips curled in a most unpleasant way as she recalled how Mrs. Langford had started out with her condescending, hypocritical little speech that was meant to put Miss Howard in her place while exalting Miss Charlotte Langford as an example she should try to model herself after. Snatches of that speech flashed back into Alexa’s memory now, together with the mind-picture of Charlotte sitting next to her with modestly bent head, trying hard not to preen herself.
“My dear Miss Howard. Although I have hesitated before, my sense of duty forces me to speak out now; and I do hope you will take some well-meant advice from a mother with a daughter close to your age in the spirit in which it is intended. A few pertinent words of caution from someone older and more mature who is used to moving about in Society and much more aware of the dangers and pitfalls that await one too inexperienced and too impetuous…Guidance of the young is so necessary; that and constant, loving supervision…”
While Alexa listened almost unbelievingly, Mrs. Langford had gone on and on until at last she had been forced to pause long enough to draw breath. Alexa had thought to herself—now I suppose she is bound to throw some solemn quotation at me!
“And after all, as the saying goes, ‘a stitch in time saves nine!’ Dear Charlotte embroidered that very motto for me on a sampler when she was barely six years old, and I still have it, framed, of course. So…”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Langford, but I really fail to understand what your favorite motto has to do with me, since I usually do those things that I must do very quickly in order that I might be finished with them, instead of trying to put off the inevitable. I’m afraid I cannot see…”
The natural ruddy tint of Mrs. Langford’s complexion had become quite mottled as she girded herself for battle almost visibly; drawing herself up as she cast Alexa a look that was meant to reduce her.
“I can only hope, Miss Howard, that you did not deliberately choose to misunderstand me when you interrupted what I had begun to say. ‘Children should be seen and not heard’—and for all that you have reached eighteen years of age it cannot fail to become very soon apparent to the bystander who watches and observes that you, Miss Howard, are a mere child in experience of the Ways of this World. And while children may be allowed a certain amount of…Well, let me be brief and say merely that what can be forgiven in a child who does not know any better can never be quite as easily passed over when one is considered to be grown-up enough to enter society. Any foolish or unthinking action that could be misconstrued by others, even the slightest indication of being—shall we say—a little too free and easy in one’s manner towards the opposite sex…Perhaps you may not know it, Miss Howard, but once there is Talk about a young woman it is too late for her to try and retrieve her mistakes! She will soon find that she is no longer accepted in the best circles, where once she might have been welcome; and all too soon…”
Mrs. Langford had paused to take another deep breath, and seizing the opportunity, Alexa had almost sprung to her feet, with her impatience and rage showing in every movement—very much the young lioness her birth sign symbolized. That horrible, ugly-minded, petty woman! If she didn’t move—find something to do with her hands—she might give way to the impulse to…to…How fortunate that Velu, on one of his suspiciously frequent trips into the drawing room, had placed a small tray bearing a decanter of sherry and some glasses on one of the sideboards. It was just what she needed at this point to calm her nerves.
Taking long strides that she knew would be considered unladylike, Alexa crossed the room before saying over her shoulder, “Sherry, anyone?” When she heard only horrified gasps in response, she shrugged as she lifted the decanter to pour out a glass of sherry for herself, turning immediately afterwards to face them defiantly as she raised her glass with pretended insouciance. “Well, à votre santé , then! Or, translated into English, to your good health! Mmm! This is an excellent sherry, and you ladies really should try it.”
Mrs. Langford had recovered herself sufficiently by then to utter in a choked voice: “Sherry! Another intoxicating beverage, is it not? And you must not think that I didn’t notice that you sipped from your wineglass at dinner, young woman! It was only out of a spirit of Christian forbearance that I refrained from making any pointed comments before now. But to have my Charlotte subjected to witnessing a young woman of tender years indulging boldly and far too indiscreetly in what is even considered a vice in men…! Ah, Miss Howard, I pity your poor parents!”
“Do you, Mrs Langford? I shall be sure and tell them so.” The sherry she swallowed down far too fast because she was angry warmed Alexa’s throat like liquid gold and fortified her spirits with a rush of energy and strength that allowed her to say quite calmly: “But apart from the fact that I enjoy a glass of sherry occasionally, what other shocking crime have I committed? Please feel free to be quite direct with me, for I appreciate honesty above all things.” Another sip, and Alexa was able to smile quite composedly and almost cheerfully into Charlotte’s gaping face before she added with mock concern: “Or is it that I have, quite unwittingly, upset poor Charlotte by practicing my Italian on Lord Charles? If so, you should have said so to him, Charlotte. But you may have Mr. Sutherland all to yourself if you like him, and I promise to keep out of the way. In any case Lord Charles will be returning to England tomorrow, so you see…?”
Charlotte’s mortified “Ohh!” was drowned out by Mrs. Langford’s rising voice as she pronounced in a strident tone: “Why, you brazen young hussy! And to think that I actually encouraged my poor daughter to try and make a friend of you! Thank God there has not been time for her to have been swayed by what I see before me! A young woman—surely too young to have been allowed to indulge in every vice known to…Surely not a second glass of sherry?”
“Indeed, yes! And it really is an excellent sherry too, in case you might wish to change your mind and join me in a glass.” While Mrs. Langford searched in her reticule for her vinaigrette, almost panting from emotion, Alexa continued in a deliberately questioning voice: “But Mrs. Langford, surely you must know that for a lady to partake of wine or sherry is considered quite the done thing in the highest social circles everywhere in Europe? So Uncle John was telling me at any rate, and I am sure that he would know. In fact, I understand from him and from Lord Charles that even the Queen has been observed to partake of wine or champagne. But perhaps this is not my only vice in your eyes? Have you managed to discover any other vices I should be called to account for?”
Having delivered her speech, Alexa had lifted her tiny glass of sherry to her lips and sipped from it deliberately, her dark brows lifted in question; and it was at that point that Mrs. Langford forgot herself as she almost gasped out: “Why, that you dare to mention our angelic young Queen as an example—an excuse for your own…And what will you do, pray, when Lord Charles has left—and left you with a reputation for allowing gentlemen Too Much Familiarity? Ah, it is too late, Miss Howard, to cringe from the last of Truth, I am afraid! For a woman’s reputation follows her everywhere, and once she has allowed certain…Take care! For you will find that once the word is out every other man you meet will—although I shudder to say it—Expect the Same Thing! And they might even…”
Emptying her glass for the second time before setting it down with such force that Charlotte jumped and gave a small scream, Alexa advanced to stand directly before Mrs. Langford; and there must have been something in her almost feline manner of walking and her stance that startled even that thick-skinned lady into sudden silence.
“And what exactly do you mean by ‘The Same Thing’? For you must understand, Mrs. Langford, that in spite of my ‘free and easy manners’ and the—the familiarities I supposedly allow gentlemen to take, there are still some things I remain ignorant of. But I am sure that you, ma’am, with your obvious worldly experience in such matters, could instruct me?”
It was perhaps fortunate for all concerned that Velu had made his entrance at that point, while Mrs. Langford was still gasping like a beached fish and her daughter hovered on the brink of hysterics. Just as well too, Alexa thought darkly, that the dirty-minded old witch had decided to beat a hasty retreat while she could; sweeping her precious Charlotte ahead of her.
“Come, Charlotte! And you may rest assured, Miss Howard, that I will be speaking to Sir John as soon as possible.”
“I had hoped that you would, ma’am! For then he could explain to me the exact meaning of some of the expressions you used!”
One of them had been “brazen hussy.” Dismissing the sleepy-eyed ayah, Alexa stared at her own reflection in the looking glass while she attempted to tidy her hair. She should have let the maid, Karuna, brush it out for her as she had offered, but it had seemed more important that she be left alone with her thoughts at this time—with herself. Was she a brazen hussy? Well, better that than a pious hypocrite putting on mincing little airs and mounting trivial, meaningless words.
And why should I care what people like that might think of me or accuse me of being? Swinging angrily away from the mirror, Alexa began to search determinedly for her favorite green dress, and finding it, slipped it on over the single petticoat she had kept on. No corset or stays to cut off her breathing. And if Lord Charles didn’t like her the way she really was, then his opinion didn’t matter to her either.
A glance at her small clock told Alexa that she had already delayed longer than she had meant to, but if she ran part of the way…She paused again in front of the mirror to take one last look at herself, and then, acting on a sudden, wildly defiant impulse, she took down her hair and shook it free, letting it run down like a bronze rivulet to her waist. A brazen hussy, was she? Well, she would find out soon enough if Lord Charles thought so too.
The young creature who sped barefooted through a night brightened by the light of millions of stars and flickering fireflies, with her dainty slippers carried carelessly in one hand and her mane of hair swinging between her shoulders, was a very different Alexa from the fashionably gowned and coiffed Miss Howard Lord Charles was used to seeing. Tonight she more resembled a half-wild gypsy as she ran as swiftly and as soundlessly as the jungle predators she was used to stalking; relishing the sudden, almost heady sense of freedom that filled her and would make this wild, rash escapade seem worthwhile even if he had decided not to wait for her. She had regained her sense of belonging only to herself—of being capable of daring anything and facing anything at all—and what fun she was having!
Having run all the way, using the shortcut she remembered from past visits here, Alexa arrived at the small grove of coconut trees that fringed the beach and found herself quite out of breath, so that she was forced to pause for a minute or two in order to regain it. She seemed to have forgotten how long it had always seemed to take to arrive at the beach from the house, even if they did take the narrow and rather zigzag path that cut between trees and tall shrubbery. But at least she’d been lucky enough not to encounter any reptiles along the way or hear an owl issue its mournful cry of warning tonight!
She had leaned her back against a tree while she caught her breath, and now Alexa shook her head impatiently to ward off her own thoughts. There was no sound to be heard except for the rustling of leaves overhead whenever a slight puff of sea breeze brushed against them and the endless soft sighing of the sea waves as they slid up the closely packed yellow-and-blue-tinged sand and retreated. Back and forth and back and forth…Of course he wouldn’t be here, still waiting. He had probably become discouraged by now and had left, thinking that she had not been able to manage to escape from the house after all; and he wasn’t well enough acquainted with her to know that if Alexa Howard made a promise she would keep it.
Ah, well, at least she still had the night and the ocean all to herself! Straightening, Alexa stretched her arms above her head before lifting the weight of her hair off the back of her neck. How hot and heavy it felt since she’d stopped to rest. Reaching in her pocket for the green velvet ribbon she’d snatched up just before leaving, Alexa contrived rather impatiently to tie back her hair in a careless fashion that she decided would have to do for the present, even if the bow was knotted rather clumsily. She found herself longing to wade in the ocean again and to run along the beach playing tag with the waves as she’d done as a child. And why not? But first she must make quite certain that poor Lord Charles was not still waiting for her after all.
Still carrying her soft leather slippers in one hand and pulling her gown calf-high with the other, Alexa left the sheltering darkness of the coconut trees to run lightly over the damp sand, sometimes letting tiny wavelets lick at her heels. When she glanced out to sea there were only the tiny, flickering lights of native fishing boats to be discerned; and above the darker, undulating surface of the ocean the myriads of stars seemed tumbled in their bright clusters against midnight blue velvet.
How beautiful nighttime was! And here by the ocean there were different smells to be breathed in and savored, while the night sky seemed to arch and stretch ahead forever without the stark-black outlines of hills and mountains or densely growing jungle vegetation that always seemed to limit or take away from the vastness of the sky. Without her quite realizing it, Alexa’s steps had slowed, then paused, as she gazed at the dark, wavering line of the horizon. Her horizon—the furthest she could remember seeing. Would she ever go beyond and see the horizon continue to stretch and stretch ahead of her until she sighted other lands and other oceans? Would she ever get the chance to sight flying fishes and great whales and see ice floes floating on cold black seas, or watch the seasons change and feel what snow was like? Ah—for all of her reading about other countries and distant places whose very names spelled enchantment and mystery and her viewing of paintings and sketches and listening to descriptions, she had still not truly experienced anything beyond this small tropical island of about 25,000 square miles that was known as the Pearl of the Indian Ocean. Or Lanka…Serendib…Taprobane…Zeilan…so many other names from times long past when merchants and explorers from all corners of the world had traveled here; some to pause and to trade and some, caught by a certain spell, to stay. Perhaps Ceylon was the fabled land of the Lotus Eaters described in Homer’s Odyssey, Alexa thought suddenly. For even if distant horizons could beckon on a night such as this with questions and images and promises of rainbows’-ends, there were still the hot golden-and-green-shadowed days that slipped languorously by like water ripples in the wake of a slow-gliding canoe; making it far too easy to allow yourself to be lazy and dream life away without realizing it or even, in the end, caring.