Chapter Nine
The next week was a busy one. Once he saw the chance to marry off his harem of female relatives, William arranged with alacrity invitations to several parties. “It’s not that he cares for anyone but himself,” Eleanor admitted to Tessa, “but it works for our purposes. I’m guessing my thrifty husband is plotting a mass wedding for the four of you.” Eleanor put on a droll expression and spoke in imitation of William’s usual sonorous tone. “One banquet, one priest, a great savings.”
“Perhaps we could share the dress too, if we arrange the ceremony cleverly enough,” Tessa said with a chuckle.
Eleanor laughed too, but then her face tensed and she gripped her stomach. Tessa ran to a small bag they had taken to having nearby and fetched a small bottle of painkiller obtained discreetly from an apothecary. Beside it was an earthen orb with a cork stopper, the one Tessa tried not to think about very often. Eleanor drank the medicine and waited for the pain to subside. Her color alarmed Tessa, and she was frustrated at her helplessness.
“Are you sure—” Tessa began, but Eleanor put up a hand, signaled she wanted no discussion.
“This is what I want, Tess. Don’t fret about it.”
“Eleanor…” Tessa longed to say how much this lovely woman meant to her. This whole trip was Eleanor’s attempt to settle Tessa’s life, and though she had doubts about marrying a man she didn’t love, she was realistic enough to see the necessity of it. She’d heard it said a woman’s first marriage should be for security. If fate decreed, she could look for love in the second one.
“I know, my dear. Your face is like a book. Now let us dress for tonight’s banquet. Perhaps you will capture the heart of Hardecanute’s eldest son.” Eleanor was joking, of course. Rumor had it the man was a boor, interested only in falconry and racing horses.
Tessa joined in, keeping her voice light to match Eleanor’s lead. “I’d as soon marry an ape as a Dane, and I have my heart set on an Englishman, as you well know.”
The first party was a great success. For it Tessa chose her gown of green and set it off with a small cap of matching cloth sewn all over with small beads that caught the light, showing her hair to advantage. Whispers began as she entered the hall, eyes downcast and framed by Eleanor and William. Behind them came the three cousins, also beautifully dressed and coifed. The message was obvious: here are likely candidates for wives. Within minutes, young men found ways to be presented, and though Tessa was the obvious favorite, the other girls had their attendants, too. This invasion of attractive country girls was not popular with the local females, who clustered like threatened chickens and mumbled among themselves. Tessa murmured polite responses to queries and danced with men until she could no longer keep track of names and titles but merely smiled and nodded as they vied to impress her.
After an hour Tessa’s head spun from unaccustomed stimulation. The room was warm with the press of bodies and the heat of the torches necessary for light. The people in attendance dazzled in the variety and sumptuousness of their apparel, so that everywhere she looked there was color. The room had been freshly decorated with cut flowers, branches of sweet-scented woodruff, blossoms, and ribbons of every sort. The room itself was grander than anything she had ever seen. Its dimensions were huge, its walls covered with the finest of tapestries. The high ceiling had been decorated with delicate carvings, and in a corner of the room three musicians supplied a sweet-sounding background for the buzz of conversation. There was so much to take in, so much to remember, that she found herself at a loss to notice details, could only register a sense of movement and grandeur.
Remembering Eleanor’s teaching, Tessa managed to ingratiate herself to several mothers in the room, chatting about sewing and gardening, making sure to appear modest but responsible, charming but chaste. She noticed two formidable-looking ladies watching her critically, and eventually a friend of Eleanor’s introduced her to them.
“Lady Acton, Dame Ballard, may I present Tessa macFindlaech, late of Scotland but now here to visit her sister, Eleanor Brixton.” The man, having obviously done as he was told, now backed away, leaving Tessa with two very opposite personalities.
Lady Acton was square and substantial. Her expensive gown could not make up for the distinctly masculine shape of her body and looked more like a disguise than a dress. Her hair was completely hidden in an elaborate and unbecoming cap that accentuated the size of her head with horns and veils and swinging beads. Her face was flat and pugnacious, inviting no familiarity, and the eyes swept over Tessa continuously, taking in her hair, her clothes—everything about her—giving the impression she was judged as never before.
“How nice for you to come to London before everyone leaves for the summer.” Lady Acton’s voice was surprisingly low and feminine. “Much better than Scotland, I’m sure. I’m told it’s always damp there.”
Biting back the reply that begged to be spoken, Tessa merely answered, “I find London most interesting. I notice flowers I have never seen before, and they are quite beautiful.” Having been tutored by Eleanor, Tessa knew Lady Acton was inordinately proud of her gardens and would talk about them forever if allowed to. For some minutes after that, all Tessa had to do was listen, nod, and smile from time to time.
When Lady Acton finally finished her glowing description of Mirabeau, the country estate to which she would soon be retiring to avoid London’s summer heat and the dangers of disease that accompanied it, Tessa murmured, “It sounds breathtaking. I’m sure it is a great deal of work for you, but what rewards you must reap when you survey your labors.” She doubted if the woman ever got her hands dirty. Her “work” would consist of telling servants and gardeners what to do each day. Even that was probably unnecessary, since her servants were undoubtedly closer to the earth than their mistress could ever hope to be, more able to coax from it the finest blooms.
Lady Acton was sure her own toil was exhaustive, and she warmed to Tessa due to the girl’s interest in her garden. “Oh, yes, my dear, but it is such a joy to see one’s labors come to fruition. I hope to leave the world a more beautiful place than I found it, and therefore I am willing to sacrifice as needs be.” Leaving the world might indeed make it more beautiful, Tessa reflected, for Lady Acton was no beauty. Her strong chin was mirrored in her son Cedric, with whom she had danced earlier. On him it was manly and somewhat attractive, but on his mother it predicted strong opinions, rather like a bulldog.
Dame Ballard, the woman with Lady Acton, had been patient as long as she could, and now began what could only be termed an interrogation, delving into every area of Tessa’s past.
As Lady Acton’s opposite, one could hardly have found a more perfect choice. Everything about Dame Ballard was tentative and frail, or at least appeared so. She was very slight and hunched herself together in such a way that she seemed even less than she was. Her tiny face was all bones, with deep-set eyes and pale skin that added to the wraithlike impression. It was somewhat surprising, therefore, that this lady had no qualms about voicing her curiosity and no restraints on what she considered was within her right to know. Asking questions Tessa found both invasive and rude, the old lady proceeded to what must have been a mental list of questions designed to satisfy herself as to Tessa’s suitability as a candidate for marriage. The old desire to speak out threatened to emerge, but she remembered Eleanor’s caution that it was the mothers who were her most critical challenge in securing a favorable match.
The dame’s youngest child, Bolton, was eligible, as was Cedric Acton. Their mothers obviously had an interest in her, so Tessa swallowed her objections and answered Dame Ballard’s queries. Soon Lady Acton joined in, and the two women poked into Tessa’s life until she struggled to keep up with her manufactured past. Lying was against her nature, so she and Eleanor had kept to the truth when possible, simply leaving out facts that would mar her prospects. One such fact was her relationship to Macbeth, to whom the English were naturally antagonistic.
“Your mother was of goo
d blood?” Dame Ballard asked.
Tessa felt a slight flush of anger but answered calmly, “My mother’s father was a thane—what you would call a lord—in the Highlands. He was well respected as a leader, and our people are known for their metalwork. If your son owns a long-sword, it may have been made by my grandfather’s craftsmen. They also make excellent targes—what you call shields—of wood studded with iron.”
“I know little of such things,” Dame Ballard admitted. “Does your line run to sons or daughters?”
Tessa knew this was an important question, and she chose to omit mention of her father’s six daughters. “My father had but one sibling, a brother, and my mother is one of three children, she the only female.” Both ladies nodded their heads in satisfaction, the effect comedic as the absurd fripperies on their headpieces bobbed and swung in response. Both looked at Tessa speculatively, and she felt like a ham in a butcher shop. As soon as was polite, she excused herself and returned to the much easier task of charming the young men who flocked to her.
Cecilia was faring well, having the most self-confidence of the three cousins. Mary listened wide-eyed to a young man who had a terrible stammer. She never blinked an eye as he struggled to speak, and his gratitude showed in his face. Alice, the quietest cousin, stood against a wall, looking near to tears. Tessa managed to maneuver two of the nearest gentlemen over to where Alice stood, chatting animatedly for a few minutes. Finally, she turned to one (either Alex or Alan, she didn’t remember which) and said, “I would be pleased, sir, if you would teach me the form they’re dancing now.” Inclining her head toward the dance floor, she begged, “Alice, please you and Walter—” she hoped that was his name “—join us or I shall feel quite foolish.” The men, well trained in courtesy, did as asked, and soon Alice, an excellent dancer, was laughing up at her partner, face pink with success, quite changed from the terror-stricken creature of a few minutes before.
Eleanor caught Tessa alone for a brief moment and whispered in her ear. “I overheard Lady Acton telling Dame Ballard you are quite the most charming girl she’s met this year. Her son is the one in the scarlet cap, there on the right.” Tessa nodded. “Dame Ballard says she’s never seen such a beauty since her own daughter Beatrice was young. The Dame holds her daughter to be the standard of womanly perfection against which all others are measured. Being mentioned in the same sentence with the lovely Beatrice is a great compliment.”
It was true Tessa was exceptionally striking that night. With Eleanor’s guidance, her natural beauty had been enhanced with subtle additions of color and shading. Her green eyes sparkled in response to the admiration she’d inspired, and her thick auburn hair shone in the candlelight. With some satisfaction, she judged she had performed well, remembering the steps to the dances and managing to smile at each man who circled around her in time to the music.
It was a bit of a jolt when a strong hand gripped Tessa’s elbow as she stood alone for a moment, her current partner having gone to get her a cup of wine. Turning, she found Aidan Brixton’s face close to hers, his brown eyes for once harsh.
“How goes your foray onto the marriage market, Tess?”
Brixton was not himself. His words slurred and his body swayed slightly despite attempts to hold himself erect. Gone was the charm, and in its place was an anger she had never imagined.
Tessa suddenly saw two things clearly: Aidan despised being his brother’s lackey, and he was attracted to her. Just as certainly, she understood the hopelessness of Aidan’s cause. William would hardly relish the prospect of Aidan’s marriage, which would divide his time and require the support of a wife and children. To make matters worse, Aidan could not compete with the glittering men who sought Tessa’s attention this night. Strangely, his anger focused on her rather than on the unfairness of his brother.
“Does it not sicken you to smile at these calves and picture yourself in the marital bed with whichever one makes the best offer?” Aidan’s smile twisted and his grip on her arm tightened as he struggled to keep his swaying body still. She caught the scent of wine on his breath, and remembered Mary’s statement he was not the same when he’d been drinking.
“Master Aidan. Good evening.” Tessa kept her face expressionless lest others around them see her disgust.
“As you say. I find it not particularly pleasant.”
“And so you have medicated yourself to improve your own disposition?” She spoke between clenched teeth, angry with Aidan for destroying her fondness for him.
He smiled wickedly. “So, the polished young lady is not the role you play with me. Is it because I have no prospects that you can afford to be so blunt?” The handsome face curled in self-mockery.
“It’s because I consider you part of a family I care about that I warn you, sir, to take yourself off before Sir William sees the state you are in. I will always be honest with you if it saves you trouble.”
He stared at Tessa for a few moments then straightened himself, as drunken men will who want to seem in control. “I will remove myself from your presence, since I obviously displease you. Your servant, mistress.” And with a satiric bow, he was gone.
Tessa thought about following but decided he was used to looking after himself, even when intoxicated. The third Brixton was a cipher. Though full of charm, there was a dark side to him she had glimpsed tonight. She wondered which side she would see when next they met.
The answer came swiftly in the morning, for as she came down the stairs to breakfast, Aidan waited in the hallway, his face knitted with worry. When he saw she was alone, he spoke pleadingly.
“Tessa, I was unforgivably boorish last night. I was awake for hours wondering how I could have let myself get into such a state, and how I could have spoken so to you.”
Immediately her heart went out to Aidan, who was obviously very embarrassed at his behavior. “Think no more of it.”
His face flushed. “It is shameful to admit it, but I cannot take strong drink. It transforms me into a different person, and my brother has often taken me to task for it. The only remedy is to take no drink at all. I had been successful until last night…” He paused, about to say one thing, and then finished differently. “Last night I slipped back into old ways. I would give anything to be able to have it back to do differently, and I hereby vow to you I will never again allow myself to sink to the state of drunkenness that you observed last evening.”
“I have said, Aidan, you must think no more of it,” Tessa chided him gently. “All of us make mistakes, and only a churl would hold it against you when you have made your apology and promised never to repeat it.”
Gratefully, he grasped Tessa’s hand and kissed it. “You are as good as you are beautiful,” he told her. “I thank the heavens they have sent us such as you to be a part of our family.” With that he led her in to breakfast with the others. As they took their places, Tessa reflected she now understood the family’s references to Aidan’s drinking, and she applauded his efforts to change. Aidan was a man who set a standard for himself, and though he had fallen short of it last night, he seemed determined to make himself a better man. For that, she believed, he should be admired.