The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) (2 page)

   
“Stay with her,” Uncle Stephen told me.  “I have no idea what has happened
to you two, but it does not look good.  She can hardly breathe and you are
having difficulty walking.  And there is blood on your skirt.”

   
I felt myself
blushing
a deep red and my cheeks grew
hot and uncomfortable.  Why did he have to say that, even if it were
true?  I fled from the room and into the
  chamber
he had given to me.

   
“Forgive me,” he said following me.  “I did not mean to cause you any
distress, but I do need to know what has happened.  I need to be able to
tell the physician when he arrives.”

   
I just hid under the covers and shook my head furiously.

   
The physician arrived shortly after and examined my mother first, then came in
to me.  You would have thought that after my ordeal I would find nothing
else embarrassing, but this man prodding and poking was excruciatingly shaming
as well as painful. And I was sure I had done something for which I was to
blame, I was sure that either my uncle or the doctor would shout at me, tell me
I had been wicked.

   
He did not speak to me, not even to ask what had happened, but just shook his
head mournfully and returned to the adjoining room where my mother lie
unconscious.

I had crept out of bed with great difficulty and was listening from
the adjoining chamber.

   
“I am sorry, Mr Jameson,” he told my uncle.  “I do not believe that your
sister will live.  She is bleeding internally and there is nothing I can
do."

   
I felt the tears spill out over my face.  My mother was going to die and I
would have no one.  What would happen to me?  Uncle Stephen would
have to send me back to my father, would he not?  Then what would happen
when he ran out of money?  What would happen when he lost his temper and
had no one else on whom to use his whip.

   
I suddenly felt that Mother was the lucky one.  I would certainly rather
be dead than return to my father.

   
“Try whatever you can,” Uncle Stephen was telling the doctor.  “What of my
niece?”

   
“Your little niece has been horrifically abused, Sir,” the physician said in a
shocked voice.  “I have never in my life seen anything like it. 
Indeed, I am deeply shocked.”

   
“Abused?”  Uncle Stephen asked with a frown.  “What does that mean
exactly?  What sort of abuse?  My sister has been abused, that is
obvious.”

   
“Your sister, Sir, has been badly beaten but the little girl has been raped,
repeatedly I would say.  She has extensive injuries, bruises and tearing,
that will likely heal up partially, if not completely, but I have to tell you
that the chances of her ever being a mother are very remote.”

   
Raped?  That was the first time in my life I had heard that word and I had
no real idea of what it meant even then.

   
The doctor stopped talking then rubbed his chin reflectively.  “How did
this happen, Sir?”

   
Uncle Stephen looked outraged.

   
“I wish I knew,” he replied.  “They arrived this morning. 
I have not seen my sister in many years and my niece not at all.
 
This is obviously why they were running away.”

   
“He sold me,” I said in a shaky voice from the doorway, causing both men to
turn around and look at me.

   
“Sold you?”  Uncle Stephen asked. 
“Who?
 
Who would do such a thing?”

   
“My father,” I replied, realising that I had at last summoned up the courage to
speak of it.  “He took one thousand pieces of gold from a man and that man
took me away and kept me all day yesterday. 
He and his
friend.
  There was something said about clearing his debts as
well.”

   
That was the first glimmer of pity or compassion I had seen from my
uncle.  He had obviously not wanted to receive us into his household, but
now he stepped forward and gathered me into his arms.  I flinched, from
pain and from fear.  I did not want him to touch me.

   
“Forgive me, little one,” he said quietly releasing his hold.  “You can
stay here as long as you
wish,
you and your mother.”

   
“Not my mother,” I replied.  “She is dying.  Will you send me back to
my father?"

   
"No!"  My uncle cried out at once.  "Whatever it costs
me, you will never have to see him again.  I promise you."

   
I retreated into my bedchamber then and climbed under the covers to weep for my
lost mother and for my lost innocence.

CHAPTER
TWO

   
Uncle Stephen was a widower.  My grandfather had no need to disown him,
since the woman he had taken to wife had died in childbirth shortly after their
marriage, along with his only child.  He had never remarried and he never
wanted another child, deeming them to be too much heartache.  I suppose
that
me
turning up in that state just proved him
right.

   
My mother died later that day and for a while I was afraid that Uncle Stephen
would send me back to my father, despite his earlier promise, but nothing was
said about it.  Being a child, nobody bothered to tell me anything and all
I found out was from listening at doors, a habit I carried with me into adulthood. 
I learned that way that my father had disappeared, that his house and lands
which had cost me so dear were now in the possession of Mr Carter and his
friend.

   
Now I believe that the man had somehow tricked my drunken father into signing
over his entire estate as well as his daughter.  I believed they had
murdered him, and that my mother had known and done nothing.  She was
certainly not surprised at his absence on the morning we left.  But I
could not care.  Uncle Stephen said I could stay with him and that was all
I could have wanted.  He was a kind enough man, though no special favours
were ever given.  He was obviously only doing his duty by having me there
and had no special affection for me. He was anxious that I should have a
governess to keep me to my place either in the schoolroom or in my own chamber.

   
London was
exciting after my years in the countryside and even without leaving the
house,
there was always something to see from my window.
 There were men and women selling things, fruit, vegetables, milk,
meat
.  There was one young woman I saw every single
night who did not seem to be selling anything, but she would disappear into an
alleyway with a man sometimes.  Of course, I know now what she was
selling, that same thing that had been brutally torn from me.

   
I felt safe with Uncle Stephen, safe for the first time in my life and I began
to trust him as time raced by.

   
We settled into an uneasy friendship, only speaking when necessary, never
talking about my ordeal.  I would have liked someone to talk to, but not
about that really.  As I grew older, the normal bodily functions of
puberty came sporadically and hurt when they did.  It was my governess who
told me what it was, but she of course did not know why I suffered so much more
than most young girls.  I would have died of shame had she found out.

***

   
It had been three years since my mother and I had arrived on Uncle
Stephen's  doorstep
, she at the point of death, me not
much better, and I was grateful to him for giving me a home even though he had
not really wanted me.

   
It was an anxious time in London. 
The King had abandoned his lawful wife, Queen Katherine, and was trying to
persuade the pope to grant him a divorce so that he could remarry. 
Tensions ran high and I was warned not to repeat any gossip that I might hear,
but my uncle was not close to the court and although I was the daughter of an
Earl, I had no wish to go there and had no one to present me in any case.

   
I did not know then that Uncle Stephen could have paid a member of the nobility
to take me in and present me at court, and I am not sure whether he knew that
himself or whether he felt under an obligation to keep me safe with him. 
I hoped it was the latter and in any case, I was quite happy with the arrangement. 
The King and all his courtiers held no attraction for me, despite the beautiful
clothes and jewels they wore.

   
My uncle and I attended mass each week, along with our servants, and one day
after the service the priest informed us that the King had established himself
as the head of the church in England,
that we were no longer Roman Catholics, but English Catholics.

   
My uncle said nothing as we left the church, but when we arrived back at his
house he warned me very seriously that I should forget the Pope in Rome had ever existed,
that mentioning him at all could anger the King and be extremely dangerous.

   
I shivered at his warning.  I had seen the King, had seen that tiny mouth
and those angry eyes;
  I
had no wish to be on the
wrong end of his wrath.

   
Not long after that there were parades in London
as the King married the Lady Anne Boleyn.  Uncle Stephen took me out to
watch the coronation parade when she was crowned Queen, but it was very
frightening.

   
There were cries of “Long live Queen Katherine” and Anne’s appearance caused
much booing from the crowd.  Nobody cheered, nobody wanted her and the
King looked murderously angry.  I felt a little sorry for Lady Anne Boleyn
that day, even though my uncle and I had not sympathised before.  From
what I had heard, she had manipulated the King into putting away his wife and
making her Queen, when he had wanted only another mistress like all the others.

   
From the romantic ideals of a thirteen year old, I believed that she must have
really loved him and he her, but I realise now that it was only lust, just like
the two men who had destroyed my life.  My view of men was already one of
suspicion, even before that parade when I attracted many glances.

   
Although I bore the title of Lady Rachel Stewart in my own right, Uncle Stephen
had no such aristocratic claims which put me in an unusual and awkward position
as I grew older.  He wanted to find a titled gentleman for me to marry,
but it would be difficult when he had no access to the court in his own right.

   
By this time I had found out, again through listening to servants' gossip, that
what was done to me was normal for married couples.  I did not know that
it was the act without the brutality, but even if I had done, I would not have
understood why anyone would want to get married and suffer so.

   
When Uncle Stephen first put the idea of a marriage to me, I was horrified.

   
"No, Uncle," I told him.  "You have no need to concern
yourself about finding
a titled gentlemen
, since I
shall not be marrying anyone."

   
He grinned slightly.

   
"So you think I am going to keep you for the rest of your life?"

   
"I can find something to do, surely.  Perhaps I can be a governess
when I am older, like Mistress Browning is to me."

   
"That would hardly be a fitting position for a lady of the nobility, for
an Earl's daughter," he argued.

   
"What then?  There must be something I can do.  What do other
ladies in my position do?"

   
"They marry," he answered.  "That is what they do. 
Never mind, we will talk about it when you are a little older perhaps."

   
"We have no need to talk about it at all," I said determinedly.

   
What I had not noticed on the day of the coronation, that my uncle had, was how
many gentlemen turned their heads to look at me.  Even the King, so I was
told later, paid particular attention to me, standing beside the road and
watching the carriages with everyone else.

   
It was but two weeks later that my uncle received an offer for my hand in marriage
from a wealthy, titled gentleman, the Earl of
Connaught
.

   
I was not consulted, and Uncle Stephen was very pleased with this offer, but I
was terrified.  It had never occurred to me that I might be chosen to
marry anyone, since I had no dowry and no titled relations to assist. 
When we had spoken about it before, I imagined Uncle Stephen having to go out
of his way to find someone willing to marry me, someone with a title. 
This offer was unexpected and very unwelcome.

   
“I cannot marry,” I told him in a panic.  “I am just thirteen years old.”

   
“It is old enough, beyond the age of consent.”

   
I was shocked and talk of marriage brought back those memories that I had tried
very hard to put away forever.  Surely my uncle must understand how I
would feel about a marriage to anyone.  I would rather take the veil, but
that was not possible since the King was dissolving all the monasteries and
convents.

   
“You cannot have forgotten what was done to me, Uncle,” I replied pleadingly
"and it still hurts."

   
I blushed and he frowned a little,
then
shrugged as
though he thought I was inventing excuses.

   
“No, I have not and I have explained to the Earl that you are no virgin. 
He seemed to sympathise.”

   
I just stared at him, hardly able to believe my ears.

   
“You told a stranger all about it?  How dare you!”

   
“He is offering you marriage, Rachel, a good marriage.  This is not an
opportunity we can overlook; it will not come a second time.”

   
“Does he know that I cannot give him children?”  I demanded, suddenly
recalling what I had overheard the physician telling my uncle.  He looked
startled that I knew.  He did not know that I had overheard the physician
talking to him and I had never mentioned it.  It was unimportant; I was not
going to marry, was I? I was not concerned that I might be barren.

   
“No.  It is not certain that you are barren, is it?  The doctor did
not know for certain so it might be wise to keep quiet on that score.”

   
I could scarcely believe what I was hearing.  Uncle Stephen had not ill
treated me but he was apparently more anxious to get rid of me than I had
suspected.  I had tried so hard to keep out of his way, to leave him to
his solitude;
  there
was no real need for him to
be so eager for me to go.

   
“Supposing I tell him myself?”

   
“Then you will no longer be welcome in my house,” he replied firmly. 
“This man noticed you in the crowd and wants to marry you.  He is an Earl,
so the same rank as your father and I see no other way I am going to find you
someone so illustrious.”

   
“I know nothing about him,” I replied frantically.  “Who is he?  What
age is he?  Is he widowed or unmarried?  You cannot just marry me to
a stranger; I am supposed to give my consent.  Even I know that much.”

   
“You can refuse your consent if you wish,” he replied quietly.  “But if
you do you will leave this house immediately.  I do not believe you have
anywhere else to go, which should make the prospect of this marriage more
appealing to you.  He is thirty years of age I believe.  His first
wife died ten years ago and he has mourned her ever since.  It seems it
was a love match, so you are lucky to have attracted his attention.  I
believe he does not want another love match, merely an ornament to hang off his
arm and entertain his guests.  You are very, very beautiful.  I do
not believe you realise that, which modesty makes you even more appealing.”

   
That was the first time I had felt that horror when someone told me I was
beautiful;
  it
would not be the last.  All I
could think of was sitting in that carriage with Mr Carter, of shrinking back
into the corner while he told me I was beautiful, the most beautiful little
girl he had ever entertained.

***

   
So I was to be married to the Earl of
Connaught
, a
man almost twenty years older than me and about whom I knew nothing.  It
seemed that my very existence was merely for the convenience of various men and
I wondered if this one would prove to be another deviant who wanted to abuse me
and share me with his friends.

   
I tried to run away.  I stole some jewellery from my uncle's bedchamber, a
necklace and bracelets that had belonged to his late wife, and I crept out of
the house early one morning with them.  I found a jeweller on the other
side of the city, where I thought no one would know me, and asked him to buy
them, but he recognised me from the coronation parade.  He had seen me
there with my uncle and he knew my uncle, so he kept me there while he sent for
him.

   
"After everything I have done for you," Uncle Stephen said angrily,
grabbing my upper arm and pushing me along the pavement.  "You steal
from me?  And my dear wife's jewels as well.  I cannot believe
it."

   
"Then perhaps the fact that I did that will make you understand how
desperate I am.  I cannot be married."

   
He just looked down at me and shook his head slowly.

   
"It will be all right," he said.  "It will not be like your
ordeal, I promise."

   
He did not understand.  No man could really understand, no matter how hard
he tried.  I felt sick to my stomach at the very idea.

***

   
The marriage took place at St Paul’s
Cathedral, which made my uncle very proud.  He told me that he felt
happier now that he had found a proper place for me, as he had no idea how to
go about finding a suitable match.  He blessed the day he took me to the
coronation parade, while I cursed that day and wished it had never happened.

   
It was all King Henry's fault.  If he had stayed married to his lawful
wife, there would have been no coronation parade, no Queen Anne, no Earl of
Connaught
. 

   
I could not make my uncle understand or even sympathise.  He seemed to
think it was the normal sort of nervous behaviour of a bride to be and for that
I would never forgive him.

   
His Lordship did not wish to meet me before the ceremony, did not wish to learn
about me or find out if he even liked me.  It seemed that his only
interest was in how I looked, and people kept telling me I looked beautiful.
They could not know how those words made me cringe. I did not feel beautiful
and after my tenth birthday ordeal, I doubted that I ever would.