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Althia slowly cut into her eggs and pork. She dawdled
on purpose. She knew she had to call on Lady Chanceler today and she had little
desire to go. Althia gazed out the glass doors that separated her breakfast
nook from the outside and watched the wind tousle the grasses as if mimicking
the waves upon the ocean. Faintly, the sound of waves crashing against the
rocks a mere half a mile from where she was sitting could be heard. At least it
will be a lovely day for traveling, she thought to herself as she slowly
brought a forkful to her mouth. Plymouth, this time of year, could masquerade
storms behind such beauty, but she observed that there was not a cloud in the
sky.
She mechanically ate until she felt full and then
glanced at the clock, disappointed that so little time had passed. The
timepiece on the mantle rang out ten o'clock.
"Jane," she called out, "Could you
please come remove the dishes?"
"Coming, miss." A portly woman, about the
same age as Althia, entered. Jane's dishwater blond hair was pulled into a bun,
but a number of stray pieces escaped, protruding from her head. Brushing back a
piece from her face, she gathered the dishes in her hands and retreated back
into the kitchen. Althia slowly walked to the hallway where her bonnet, shawl,
and gloves were waiting. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her rich
brown hair was pinned up in a bun and a few ringlets framed her face. Althia
was proud that she did not look all of her thirty-five years, but anyone who
looked deep enough into her sea green eyes could begin to discern a permeating
sadness. She could almost remember a time when her father would comment on how
those same eyes sparkled with happiness and joy, but, like capturing a
butterfly, those times seemed forever elusive.
She pinned the bonnet and tied the ribbons under her
chin. As she was sliding on her gloves, Humphrey, her family's butler for over
thirty years, held out her shawl. He smiled at her through his salt-and-pepper
beard. His firm, rough hands released the shawl as Althia wrapped it around her
shoulders. Humphrey then opened the front door and helped her into the carriage
being driven by John, his son. Althia sighed as the carriage lurched forward
and made its way to the Chanceler estate.
Forty-five minutes later, she and John pulled up in
front of the large estate. Two servants stepped away from the gate and opened
the carriage door for her. One of them held out his hand to escort her out of
the carriage. John and the carriage then made their way to the stables as the
servants walked with Althia to the tearoom.
"Lady Shevington, how good of you to come!"
welcomed Lady Chanceler after Althia handed her card to the servant keeping the
door and was announced. Lady Chanceler motioned for a maid to come and take
Althia's shawl.
"'Tis my pleasure," Althia replied,
beginning the charade that would last the rest of the visit. Althia handed her
shawl and gloves to the attendant and sat in the open chair across from Lady
Chanceler. A slight, older woman of at least sixty, Lady Chanceler nevertheless
still retained the intelligence and craftiness of a person half her age. Althia
admired her ability and knew better than to try and cross the older woman or
turn down an invitation, no matter how unwelcome.
"I believe the last time you were here was at
the final dance of the season, Althia. Whatever have you been doing to keep
yourself occupied?"
"Well, I should say that only the dreadful
weather has kept me away for so long. Many days I had to sit and work on my
needlepoint or music." Althia knew better than to tell Lady Chanceler how
much she enjoyed those short winter days to herself spent drawing, reading, or
working with John in the stables. Such talk would not be accepted as being
within Althia's station as a noblewoman. Althia looked around the room. Nothing
had changed in all the years she had seen it. Each picture, decoration, shelf
was in the same exact place as it was when Althia was a girl. Amusingly, she
wondered if somehow this room had escaped the passage of time.
Lady Chanceler's slender fingers motioned for the
maid to fill their teacups. "Well, I must say, you are still the portrait
of your father. Milk?" Althia nodded. "It is such a shame that you
were never able to marry." Lady Chanceler waved off the maid with a slight
flick of the wrist as she began to stir her tea. "It is unhealthy for a
woman of your stature to live in that house alone."
Althia bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.
It was a useless argument with a woman so grounded in mores and expectations.
Althia longed for a day when a woman could live on her own and not be
constantly barraged with questions and advice concerning it.
"Yes, well, the land and myself seem to be
fairly well. Speaking of marriage," Althia quickly moved to change the
subject away from herself, "I understand that your youngest daughter is to
be wed soon."
Lady Chanceler's looked up, her face revealing her
pride and excitement, as she set down her teacup. "Yes, my lovely Margaret
will be married this September to Leonard Fowler. Do you remember his father,
Robert?"
"Yes, I do. He is a direct descendant of the
Earl of Kent, is he not?"
"Third cousins, indeed. Although the Fowlers do
not seem to be as well off as some of the other cousins," Lady Chanceler
remarked with disdain, "Leonard seems intent on recapturing some of the
family's wealth and make a name for himself in the process."
"Pray tell, how does he intend on doing
that?" Althia began quoting pieces of poetry to herself to keep her mind
entertained and to belie interest.
"He is a most prolific artist and has already
been commissioned by members of the royal house to have their portraits
painted. Margaret will be dining with the finest in all of London by
June!" Lady Chanceler's enthusiasm almost caused her to knock over her
teacup.
Althia smiled and nodded in false approval. Althia
had never nor would she ever have a desire to dine with royalty. It was bad
enough navigating Plymouth's streets, constantly filled with naval men vying
for her, or any woman's, attentions. The situation escalated last autumn when a
barrage of officers and members of the militia had descended upon the city in
preparation for their attacks against France and Spain. She thought she would
hang herself if she had to attend one more ball or one more luncheon with one
more bloody officer. Living as she had for these many years had taught her how
to survive and how little she needed a man to do so. They were pretentious,
tiresome oafs and she wanted little to do with them-romantically or otherwise.
Especially not a loudmouth, vulgar, dirty seaman.
The voice of the servant interrupted Althia's
thoughts as Lady Chanceler's eldest daughter Cordelia was announced and both
women welcomed her into the room.
"Mother." Cordelia obligingly kissed her
mother on the cheek. "Hello, Althia." She nodded in Althia's
direction as the servant brought another chair over for her.
"How good of you to come, Cordelia, my dear. How
is Andrew getting along?"
"Much better," Cordelia replied as she sat
down. Her blonde hair was pulled up and small ringlets framed her face. She
wore a white dress with small yellow and red flowers patterned over it. She was
the mirror image of her mother in her youth. "The doctor says that he will
be running around the house after his sister shortly."
"Please give him my wishes for a most speedy
recovery," Althia remarked as the maid entered to pour Cordelia a cup of
tea.
"Thank you, Althia. I will do so upon my
return." The women continued to converse about trivial matters such as the
upcoming wedding and it was all Althia could do to keep from yawning in front
of the women. Finally, Lady Chanceler stood and made her apologies for retiring
and left the two younger women alone.
"I trust you will pass on my best wishes to your
sister and Leonard when by chance you should see them." Althia rang for
the maid to retrieve her gloves and shawl and prepare for her departure.
"It may surprise you to know," Cordelia
remarked, "That marriage itself isn't all bad. The first few years with
Edward were quite pleasant, almost happy I should say." Cordelia and
Althia made their way down the hall to the front entrance.
"And now?"
"And now, I would give anything to be in your
shoes." Cordelia heaved a deep sigh. "Independent, free, alone; I
would do anything for just one moment's peace."
"If you are in need of respite, you know that
you are welcome at Hindrake." Althia obligingly hugged her.
"I appreciate your offer, Althia, but when could
I possibly ever get away? If it is not one thing, it is another. First
Elizabeth is sick and then Andrew and then there is the dancing season and with
ships arriving and deporting constantly...surely you understand?" The
servant opened the door for Althia.
"Yes, of course. Until next time then," she
waved as she was escorted back into the safe haven of her carriage and carried
off to home.
Along the way, she thought much about her childhood
and her relationship with Cordelia. Their families had been friends for many
years, living so closely to one another. Cordelia and Althia had been friends
practically from birth, with Althia being only two months older than Cordelia.
They would often spend the days imagining what their lives would be like when
they were adults and what type of men they would eventually marry.
There were many, including Lady Chanceler, who had
demanded that Althia marry and find a husband to take care of the land and
house. But, they (and every suitor who even attempted to woo Althia) soon
learned that marriage was no longer on Althia's agenda. She became infamous for
her dealings with members of the opposite sex and earned the nickname in some
circles of the "Iceberg Princess," a title she wore proudly. Cordelia
soon married Edward Vaughn, a son of a wealthy shipping magistrate, and began
serving time in the prison of matrimony and motherhood. Althia had no desire
for either one, not once her father died and not in the twenty years since.
Even her sisterly bond with Cordelia had weakened over the years so that only
remnants remained of their once strong relationship.
Althia could see the house getting closer now. God,
how she loved this house. Her grandfather had named it Hindrake in honor of the
great explorer Sir Francis Drake and his ship the Golden Hind. It was a
two-story white country home and while it was not expansive, it was just
perfect for Althia. John pulled the carriage to the front of the house where
Humphrey was stationed to greet her. "I trust you had a pleasant visit,
miss?"
"Of course, Humphrey, but as always, it is good
to be home."
"Of course. Jane has your tea ready whenever you
are, miss," he replied as he helped her out of the carriage and into the
house. John led the horses back into the stable.
"Splendid. And Humphrey--" she stopped in
the entryway to remove her shawl, bonnet, and gloves. "I think I shall
like to go down to the water today. It is such a lovely day to paint; I shan't
want it let it get away. Please have my things ready for me to take this
afternoon."
"As you wish, miss." Humphrey smiled as he
took her things. Randolph stood at attention at the end of the hallway.
"And just where have you been?" Althia
mockingly chided to the large English Mastiff. "Out chasing seagulls
again, I am sure." She made her way down the hallway to where the large,
golden-haired dog was standing, tail wagging in anticipation. "Whenever
will you learn to leave them alone?" She reached him and bent slightly to
stroke his head and ears with her hands. The dog licked her face in
appreciation. "Yes, well," she sputtered, wiping her face on her
sleeve, "It is a pleasure to see you, too." She made her way into the
dining room while Randolph took residence at his spot in front of the
fireplace. Jane came forth bringing out a plate of crumpets and the tea
service. "Thank you, Jane," Althia said as she placed her napkin on
her lap.
Althia took a bite of a crumpet and threw one to Randolph who gobbled it up
instantly. She sipped some tea and then pushed herself away from the table.
Humphrey had already set her papers, pencils and
paints along with a blanket and chair in the entryway. She grabbed her things
and she and Randolph headed to their familiar spot along the seashore. As the
land began to get sandier and turn into beach, Althia removed her shoes and
stockings and pulled her skirt between her legs and tucked it into her sash.
Randolph ran ahead of her and farther down the coast. Althia decided on a spot
and set down her chair and supplies. The wind, mixing with the ocean mist,
chilled her face and arms and Althia quickly grabbed the blanket, wrapping it
around her. She then placed her sketchpad upon her lap and picked up one of the
pencils to begin her seascape.
Althia loved to be near the water and her art allowed
her the opportunity to go to those wonderfully exotic places like America,
Italy, and Morocco that she had only read about. It caused her heart to twinge
when she thought about the fact that even in a liberated time such as this,
women were still not allowed to travel without a companion. It is 1806 after
all, and still we are chained to our homes. But her drawings were not confined
to such formalities.
Randolph found a piece of driftwood and brought it to
Althia in hopes of playing a game of run and fetch. "Not now, Randolph,
I'm busy," she murmured as she shooed the dog away. After a few refutes,
Randolph lay down next to her and rested his head on his legs. Althia was not
aware of the time quickly passing but she did notice the rumble in her stomach
and the dipping of the sun into the horizon. "Well, shall we get back up
to the house and see what Jane has cooked for us?" she asked Randolph. As
if answering in the affirmative, the large dog leapt up and wagged his tail
eagerly. Althia gathered her items together and started back towards the house
with Randolph leading the way.
Althia was unaware of just how cold she had become
until she stepped into the dining room and the heat from the fire pressed
against her skin. Her cheeks flared as she sat down at the table and she rubbed
her hands together.
"Did you have a pleasant afternoon, miss?"
Jane asked as she brought the meal to Althia.
"Most pleasant indeed, Jane. I was unaware of
how chilled I had become."
"Indeed, miss. I thought some soup might be just
what you'd be needing after spending the day at the shore."
"You have once again deduced correctly, Jane.
Thank you." Jane smiled and nodded and then made her way back into the
kitchen. She then brought out pieces of mutton and bones and a bowl of water
for Randolph who attacked his food with flourish.
"I say, Randolph, you would never last a day in
society with table manners such as yours. Have I done that badly in teaching
you?" She smiled as the dog ignored her remarks and attended to the more
pressing matter of scarfing down his food. Her life was simple, but controlled,
and she had no desire for anything to change it. Althia couldn't know that her
life was destined that very night to never be the same. She soon finished her
soup and the warmth from it and the fire soon sent her off to bed and soundly
to sleep.
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