The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) (4 page)

CHAPTER
FOUR

   
I was seventeen before anyone remembered my existence again and for that I was
grateful.  I had spent those two years alone except for the servants, who
were paid under the terms of my late husband’s will, but they did not speak
unless spoken to and I had nothing to say.  I was certain that at least
one of them was stealing from me, but I did not have the courage to confront
her.

   
I had no one to talk to, but that was what I preferred.  I had my books
into which I could disappear, and even had there been anyone, I would not have
had anything to say.  What could someone like me say to anyone?  My
only experiences of life were not something I wanted to speak of.

   
I had become a recluse and rarely left the house.  The King’s marriage to
Jane Seymour had produced a much wanted heir and it was the celebration of the
prince’s birth that brought an invitation to court and it was not one I could
refuse.

   
I was very much afraid that now that I was older, I might once more attract the
King’s attention should I show myself at court, even though it was said that he
was much devoted to Queen Jane.  I had no male protector to accompany me,
either, which was not a normal state of affairs.  I had no idea if I was
supposed to go alone or bring one of the
manservants
with me.  My uncle could not be presented, as he was a commoner, but I
decided it was high time I paid him a visit anyway.

   
I had not seen him since my marriage to the Earl of
Connaught
and I had no wish to ever see him again, but for what I had in mind it was
necessary.

   
He looked up from his paperwork when a maidservant let me in to his private
rooms, but he could not even muster a smile for me.

   
“Rachel,” he said.  “Or should I say, Your Ladyship?  What are you
doing here?”

   
“I need money,” I replied at once.  I had no experience of building up to
things, of explaining myself or making small talk.  “I want to take the
veil and there are no institutions left in England.  I want to go to France, but I
do not have the funds.”

   
He frowned at me for a moment then shrugged.

   
“No,” he said.

   
I was taken aback.  I know not why I expected him to simply hand over the
necessary funds, but it seemed that it would be to his advantage as well as
mine. Sealed up behind convent walls, he would have no further need to think
about me at all. I had not anticipated an argument.

   
“Why?  You have no need of me.  What difference does it make to you?”

   
“You have your husband’s pension and his house. 
If you
leave, you will lose that and when you decide to return there will be nowhere
for you to go.”

   
“Return?
  Why would I want to return?”

   
“You are young,” he replied.  “You have no idea to what you are committing
yourself.  You will find another husband.”

   
I was shaking my head, the idea sending a shudder through me.

   
“No!”  I cried, raising my voice a little in panic.  It occurred to
me then for the first time that my uncle might take this request as an
invitation to find me another husband, but I hoped I was wrong.  He had no
access to the court, but that had not stopped him before.  “I have no wish
to remarry, Uncle.  I only want to take the veil, to be somewhere quiet
where I am not obliged to be with any man.”

   
“The idea of all that beauty shut away behind convent walls is barbaric,” he
said.  “I am your guardian and I will not allow it.”

   
“You will allow me to be used though, will you not?  You will allow me to
be taken advantage of by disgusting old men, and paraded around like a lovely
doll.  You will allow me to prostitute myself to the King of England, to be
sent for to share his bed like any common whore off the streets!”

   
I realised that was the absolute longest sentence I had ever spoken in my life
and wondered where the words had come from.  Perhaps they had been
building up for so long that they came out of their own accord.

   
My uncle did not look shocked, just pleased.  A little smile started to
form on his lips.

   
“The King?
  The King has sent for you to lie with
him?”

   
“A long time ago, yes.”

   
“Just once?”
  He sounded disappointed at
that.  “What did you do to disappoint him?  You could have asked
favours, titles.”

   
Titles for himself he meant.

   
“I did nothing, just as I had been taught.  Lie still and suffer for their
pleasure.”      He flinched then, but said no more. “Would
you perhaps have me deceive the King into believing that I might produce a son,
just like you deceived Lord
Connaught
?”

   
He sighed and shook his head.

   
“I will not allow you passage to France,” he said at last.  “It
is not what my sister would have wanted.”

   
“What do you care?  How do you know what my mother might have
wanted?  You did not even know her, did not bother to find out about her
suffering.”

   
“The King has dissolved all the abbey lands.  It would not be a good
reflection on our family if you were to go to France to join one.  It could
be dangerous.”

   
“For you, maybe.
  Not for me; I would be safe in France!”

   
I turned and fled the room in tears.  This had been my only hope that I
might not have to attend the baptism celebrations, that I would not be required
to go to court and perhaps attract the attention of yet another lecherous
man.  Perhaps I could feign illness.

   
When I got home my manservant told me that I had a visitor.

   
“The Earl of Summerville is here to see you, My Lady,” he said.

   
“The Earl of
who
?”

   
Of course he did not reply but took my cloak and turned away, while I stood and
wondered what sort of man had been sent to meet me this time.  I would not
marry this one, no matter what the King said.  I was supposed to consent
to a marriage, that was the law, but what chance had I of refusing if the King
ordered it?  The punishment for disobeying would be great indeed.

   
While I stood I remembered the endless nights with Lord
Connaught
,
my night with the King and the pain involved in both. I remembered my tenth
birthday, and tears sprang to my eyes.  I wanted desperately to turn and
run from the house, but I had nowhere to go.  I took a deep breath and
steeled myself to walk into the chamber and meet this man, and discover what he
wanted from me.

   
The man who quickly got to his feet when I appeared was not at all what I had
been expecting.  He was young for one thing, not much older than me, and
pleasing to look upon with his dark hair and eyes.

   
He approached me and bowed over the hand I presented to him then he looked up
quickly as I shrank away and immediately released me. He smiled then, and it
was not a smile I had ever seen directed at me before, not a smile of lasciviousness
nor
of satisfaction, not even a smile of
admiration.  It was a smile of delighted pleasure, of real warmth.

   
“My Lady,” he said gently.  “His Majesty has asked me to present myself to
you as a possible escort to the celebrations for the Prince’s birth.  I am
told that you have no male relative to accompany you.”

   
“That is kind of you, My Lord,” I replied nervously. 

   
“Not kind at all,” he insisted.  “My wife is unable to attend and I am
only too happy to assist a beautiful woman.”

   
 I stiffened as the words ‘beautiful woman’ brought a cold scowl to my
expression and I know that he noticed it.

   
“I trust it is nothing serious,” I said, “that is keeping Lady Summerville from
attending herself.”

   
He studied me for a few moments before he replied.

   
“Not serious, no,” he said, “but likely incurable.”

   
I hardly knew what to say to that.  How an illness could be incurable but
not serious was beyond me, and I was not about to ask. 

   
“Can I offer you some refreshments, My Lord?”  I asked, changing the
subject.

   
“That would be welcome,” he replied.  “We can discuss the details for
tomorrow night, assuming that my company will be acceptable to you.”

   
“Of course, My Lord,” I replied uncertainly.  “I am grateful.”

   
There was really not much to discuss, as it happens, just times and when his
carriage would arrive for me.  It seemed that he wanted an excuse to stay,
but for the first time in my life I did not feel threatened by his interest,
nor did I feel the need to hurry the meeting.

   
He was young, handsome and married.  Despite his odd statement about his
wife, I imagined him to be quite happy with her and not in need of anything
else.  He could afford to give his time to talk to me.

   
The following hour was the first time in my life that a man, or anyone else for
that matter apart from my mother, had actually talked to me.  It seemed
that this man was interested in me, me as a person not as a plaything or
breeding vessel. Even when the King asked about me, I could tell that he was
not really listening, that he just wanted to get on with the business of
bedding me.

   
This Earl asked about my family, about my late husband, he asked about me, what
things I liked to do.  I could scarcely find the words to reply.  I
could hardly tell him about my late husband, since I barely even
knew his name, nor
about my tastes since I did not really have any.

   
“I spend a lot of time reading, My Lord,” I replied.  “I am used to my own
company.”

   
“Perhaps we can change your mind about that,” he said.  “You are
young.  You should be enjoying life, not hiding away from it.”

   
“I have seen little to enjoy so far, My Lord,” I told him.

   
I wanted to say a lot more, to tell him that I did not feel safe outside the
house, that each time I showed my face somebody thought they had the right to
use me to their own ends, because I had no means of my own.  It seemed to
me that this man would understand, though I had no idea why I thought so. 
He was a complete stranger, after all.

   
The following evening he arrived in a huge black carriage bearing his family
crest.  I was very nervous, I have to admit.  I had not set foot
inside the palace since that disastrous night when I was ‘honoured’ to share
the King’s bed and just being there brought up memories I would rather forget.

   
But my companion was as charming as he was handsome and we danced and ate and
talked together like old friends.  Not once was there a hint of anything
untoward, no false flattery or unnecessary compliments which I did not trust,
and I found to my surprise that I was actually enjoying myself.  As usual
there were many admiring glances that came my way, but there were an equal
amount of women intensely interested in my companion.

   
It was the early hours of the morning when he delivered me back to my house and
I was quite sad to see the evening end.  Somehow he had instilled a
confidence in me that I had never had before and I determined that things would
change,
that I would no longer listen at doors nor
allow the servants to treat me like a child.  Perhaps I could even choose
one of them to be my special maid and companion as I had heard other ladies do.

   
“May I call on you again, My Lady?”  The Earl was saying as he bid me
goodnight by kissing my hand, an action that for the first time did not repel
me.

   
I felt deflated by those words.  Was this it then?  Was he going to
propose some sort of liaison like all the others, spoil the impression that I
had formed about him?

   
“Why would you want to do that, My Lord?”  I asked abruptly.

   
“Because I think you are in need of a friend,” he replied with a gentle
smile.  “And I would very much like to offer my services for that
position.”

   
It was not what I expected to hear but I could not help but think there must be
some ulterior motive behind his offer.

   
“Will Lady Summerville be accompanying you, My Lord?”  I asked
significantly, wanting him to know that I had not forgotten his married state.

   
He was thoughtful for a few moments before he finally replied with a heavy
sigh.

   
“She
will
if you want her to,” he replied, but his
expression had changed to one of concern.  “I can bring her, but she will
have nothing to say.”

   
“I do not understand you, Sir.”

   
“Suffice it to say,”
he
said, “that she does not enjoy
my company.”

   
I spoke without thinking.

   
“I cannot believe that to be true,” I said then quickly regretted it. 
“Forgive me.  That was forward and not my concern.”

   
“No matter.”
  He paused then and gazed at me thoughtfully
for a moment.  “If I do bring her here,” he went on, “would you think it
an awful liberty if I asked you a favour?”

“What favour?”

“Would you talk to her?  Try to find out why she is so afraid of
me.”  He looked a little embarrassed but he continued:  “I have never
hurt her; I never would.  She will not tell me, and she will not tell my
mother.”

“Your mother?”
  I replied, again without
thinking.  “I am not surprised.  No woman would want to talk about
intimate things to her husband’s mother.”

How I knew that I could not have said.  I could only imagine if
Lord
Connaught
had had a mother how it would have
been to discuss his habits with her, or even the fact that he would not speak
to me.