Page 36 of The Book of Lost Stories
Nell shivered. ‘He is unkind to me in ways which I cannot tell to you – in intimate ways. He often does not seem to be himself on these occasions, for his eyes are quite strange, and he is always sorry afterwards if he is cruel to me. But that is not a great deal of consolation,’ she added forlornly.
‘No, I should think not!’
Alys said what she could to comfort her friend, but in truth there was little Nell could do but bear her lot with fortitude. Her husband might mistreat her as he liked, but she could not leave him for another without totally cutting herself off from all contact with honour, friends and family.
‘What you have said simply goes to reinforce my long-held determination never to marry and entrust myself to the tyranny of a male, Nell.’
‘But at first I was very happy, and perhaps had I had the advice of a mother … or had the consolation of children, I might have managed better, and prevented George from falling again under such bad influences.’
‘I do not think you can hold yourself to blame in any way, for it must surely be the influence of his friends, althoughthe Brethren may not be doing anything so very bad. The rumours that have reached you might be only the inventions of malicious tongues, and if their meetings are just an excuse to carouse away from censorious eyes, George will surely eventually tire of such silly pursuits and mature into a man of sense.’
*
Leaving her friend to rest on her bed before dinner, the hartshorn in one hand and a handkerchief moistened with lavender water over her brow, Alys went to her bedchamber and sat down at her little desk.
She had already begun to outline a new book about a penniless orphan cast adrift upon the world, the title of which was to beDeath orDishonour, and now she was inspired to lend it a sinister tone.
Her heroine, Drusilla, might be in the power of a cruel and rakish man who knew she was really the heiress to a fortune, yet professed to be rescuing her from her dire situation. He would be a distant relative, who might seem fair and good, the gentle knight riding to her rescue, yet be black-hearted in truth. Seemingly out of the goodness of his heart, he would engage her as a companion for his wife, whom he had driven mad with terror of him …
Yes, she could quite see that last scene: the fair, delicate young wife rendered witless with fear of one who, in public at least, behaved to her with forbearing courtesy and affection.
She scribbled away furiously until it was time to dress for dinner, for she could not seem to resist reflecting the events and tribulations around her, although much altered, of course.Perhaps all authors did so? She determined, if Mrs Radcliffe would receive a visit from her, to ask her.
But she hoped she might find a route of escape for her heroine other than death or dishonour, even if not for poor Nell, constrained by the realities of life.
That night Alys woke from a nightmare in which she was struggling against some dark force that weighed down on her both physically and mentally.
Sitting bolt upright, panting, the revelation came to her in a moment of clarity that all her heroines were struggling to escape from some form of monstrous tyranny, even if only that of a selfish, but benevolent father, but there was no escape, only the exchange of one form of tyranny for another.
Feeling oppressed she got out of bed and opened the window on to the street, at this hour briefly and mercifully silent, and wished she could soar free above the rooftops like a bird.
15
Just Returns
Her father looked troubled. ‘Cicely, I had thought better of you! It is no wonder that Lucius has withdrawn his request for your hand, and instead asked my permission to pay his addresses to Elizabetta.’
Cicely rose proudly to her feet. ‘Then let her have him, for I think they will suit each other very well!’
Ravish’d by Cruel FatebyORLANDO BROWNE
You sent for me, sir?’ enquired Lord Rayven, looking down with some compassion on the pain-furrowed face of Titus Hartwood, confined to his chair by a rheumatic complaint.
‘Sit down!’ Mr Hartwood said testily. ‘Don’t loom over me like that. It gives me a crick in the neck. Wait – make yourself useful and pour the brandy first.’
‘It is too early in the day for me, but I will pour you a glass.’
‘Namby-pamby, that’s the younger generation all over. No fibre. Look at that heir of mine. My younger brother, William, was as weak as water and his son takes after him. Handsome, mind, and charming, but no backbone. Lives for pleasure.’
‘That is the same for many young men,’ Rayven pointed out.
‘Nat’s not much younger than you are, yet you have seen active service. And now you are a civilian again you seem to occupy yourself.’
‘I had a lot to learn, inheriting so unexpectedly and not having been bred to the management of a great estate. So many people depended on me for their daily bread that at first it was quite alarming. I found great want among those employed in agriculture, too, for while the value at market of their crops and animals continued to decrease, the price of the everyday staples they needed to keep their families alive rose rapidly. I find myself rather interested in farming improvements,’ he added. ‘Some of the new experiments are quite fascinating, don’t you think?’
‘No, never had a turn to be a farmer,’ Mr Hartwood said dismissively. ‘Politics – governing the country, not grubbing about in it – that was my game. But at least you show interest insomething, while that cub Nathaniel has none that I can discover other than gaming, wenching and hanging around with a damned good-for-nothing set!’
His gnarled hands clenched and unclenched on the carved arms of his chair. ‘There are even rumours of Bacchanalian orgies at Lord Chase’s house at Kew. You may be surprised that I know of such things, tied to this damn’ house as I am most of the time, but an old friend thought to warn me. They think themselves hell-born babes, I suppose, playing at secretsocieties like that fool Dashwood and his ilk. Pah! If only they knew!’
