Surrender To Love. Rosemary Rogers
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giggle this time, “I understand that…Well, at least Mama has always given me to understand that certain reading matter that would never find its way into decent English…Mr. Sutherland has just been telling me that he agrees with Mama that certain books that are published abroad in other languages might be far too easily available, under the guise of literature, of all things, and could corrupt Innocent and Unspoiled Minds. Not that I meant…”
“Oh, but I’m sure I can quite understand Mrs. Langford’s natural anxiety, and she’s right, of course.” Even if she gnashed her teeth mentally, Alexa’s tone was dulcet. “After all, I’m sure that a mother is always the best judge of her own daughter’s susceptibility to certain reading matter! And you mustn’t worry, Charlotte dear, that I will ever tell Mrs. Langford that you have actually discussed such topics with a gentleman. In fact, I shall continue practicing Italian grammar and diction with Lord Charles and pretend that no discussion of improper literature ever took place!”
Charlotte’s only half-smothered gasp and the rather choked sound that Lord Charles quickly turned into a cough came at about the same time, Alexa remembered later. At least he had a sense of humor, she thought, and he was, at the same time, a gentleman. So very much the complete opposite, thank goodness, of his uncouth cousin from California, that panther-eyed adventurer who possessed neither manners nor morals nor scruples either and certainly did not deserve to be received by polite society. Lord Charles, on the other hand, was entertaining, polite and obviously sincere; and what, after all, could be so very wrong with meeting and conversing with him alone for a few minutes? He, at least, was not the kind of bold rogue who might, without warning, force her into an unwanted embrace that was as much a punishment as it was an insult, his hands taking casual liberties with her, just as if she had been some coolie woman who was supposed to feel flattered by his disgusting advances!
In any case, I trust Lord Charles, and it does rather sound like a daring adventure as well as a challenge, Alexa thought defiantly afterwards when she recalled her rash promise to meet him on the private strip of sandy beach at the bottom of Sir John’s garden. He was going away, and he wanted to talk with her—had given her his solemn word that she would be perfectly safe in his company. As of course she would be, for he was far too honorable to try and take advantage of her trust in him. And what fun it had been to progress from arguments to arrangements right under the stolid noses of the others; particularly Charlotte’s, which had been pink with indignation during the rest of their ride. She didn’t really care a jot what Charlotte or Mrs. Langford thought or speculated about either, Alexa decided firmly. She would pretend to have developed a headache and retire early tonight, and then…Lord Charles had said that he had something very important to ask her. Was he thinking of proposing to her? And suppose he actually did, how should she answer him? It was all very exciting, and helped to push other, less pleasant thoughts from her mind.
10
That night, at dinner, Mrs. Langford seized on some flimsy excuse to hold forth at great length on the subject of the correct and proper training of pure, and yet far too impressionable, young minds. She had a rather high-pitched voice that grated on Alexa’s nerves, and a consciously affected turn of phrase as well; being overly fond of throwing in quotations at random from either the Bible or one of her favorite sermons to illustrate her every point, or pointed comment.
“…The unrestricted reading for books, for instance, and especially novels…!” Here the lady’s rather thin lips had puckered, as if she had just tasted something unbearably sour, before she continued in rather heavier tones that were meant to convey the extent of her disapprobation: “And especially the kind written by foreigners, in their languages…ah, how important some gentle but firm guidance in the right direction is, in order to prevent the corruption of a young mind that, as our dear and learned Dr. Jennings has often said, resembles a clean slate waiting to be written upon and is open, in its innocence, to every influence. Parental supervision—constant advice and guidance—how important they are, and most especially in the case of a young female, delicately nurtured and of a tender susceptibility! ‘As the twig is bent…’ I know I need not complete the phrase, for my Charlotte has heard her father quote it many times. Colonel Langford also believes very strongly in the importance of disciplining as well as instructing the young, immature mind; along with, of course, the social graces such as manners and proper deportment and behavior—so essential for a young woman who dreams of being the perfect wife and mother when the time arrives for her to be passed from the benevolent guidance of her loving parents into the keeping of—her Husband!”
If she continues in this vein for much longer…If I have to listen to that voice and those smug platitudes and watch how Charlotte preens herself without realizing or even caring that she has been brought up and trained like a show pony or a brood mare; only in order to be passed from the hands of one owner to another…! I wonder what she would do if I suddenly gave way to a violent fit of hysterics? A headache? But then Uncle John would start to worry and concern himself needlessly, and she would probably think…
Alexa forced herself to look down at her plate while she pretended to occupy herself with cutting into her slice of boiled mutton surrounded by carrots and potatoes. But in spite of all her efforts her mind seethed rebelliously. Slavery! That was what it amounted to. Passed, like a possession, from one man to another; and yet most young women thought like Charlotte, who would consider herself honored if some pompous jackass should consider to ask her father for her hand in marriage. And after that, instead of “Yes, Papa!” and “Of course, Papa!” it would be “Oh yes, Mr. So-and-so!” or “But of course, Mr. So-and-so, you always know what is best for me.” How could any human being with a mind capable of reasoning submit will as well as person so unquestioningly and so passively?
Thankfully, Mrs. Langford had interrupted herself in order to enjoy her third course, and the sudden quiet that seemed to descend encouraged Alexa to change the angry trend of her thoughts. In that direction lay frustration, she reminded herself wisely. And she had more immediate problems to deal with tonight. Planning—or should she be prepared to improvise instead? It was certain that she would have to wait until the servants had been dismissed to their quarters for the night and most of the house lights extinguished before attempting to slip away. And what should she wear? Something cool and light and not too encumbering nor too showy either. A gown she could feel comfortable in without appearing too dowdy or shabby. Her green cotton with the lace inserts, perhaps? It was at least two years old, of course, and the style had been copied from a fashion journal of the early ’thirties but at least it did flatter her figure as well as show off her shoulders and ankles to advantage. And being a man, Lord Charles probably would not notice in any case. Yes, the green dress would be exactly the thing—not that it really mattered of course, because she had no intention of staying out beyond half an hour at the very most, even if he did propose!
During the rest of the meal, Sir John, who had noticed and understood the dangerous gleam in Alexa’s slate-dark eyes, made sure that their conversation was steered into safer channels, leaving Mrs. Langford and Charlotte no choice but to follow his lead. Alexa’s mood lightened noticeably and her whole manner became quite animated when the discussion turned to horses and a lively argument ensued regarding the merits and shortcomings of crossbreeding.
The entrance of Sir John’s dignified-looking butler, carrying a silver tray bearing decanters of port and brandy and a beautifully carved rosewood box containing a variety of the very finest cigars, filled Mrs. Langford, for one, with a feeling of profound relief. She had noticed that her poor Charlotte, like herself, had barely toyed with the last two courses, and had not even had a second helping of the chocolate soufflé. But now, at last, she could with all propriety give the signal for the ladies to retire—and high time too! There had been moments, she thought with an inward shudder of taste, when she knew that she could not prevent herself from blushing at what she could only dare describe, even to herself, as “stable talk.”
How she had longed to be able to cry out that Charlotte should instantly clap her hands over her ears when certain unpleasant subjects were being discussed far too freely! She could only hope and pray of course that dear Charlotte’s carefully nurtured innocence would protect her; and it was with considerable relief that she had