Over the next week, Althea spent her days locked away in her room. Her aunt had demanded that she was not to leave the house. At first Althea had counted it as a blessing, considering she wanted not to take part in any of the things her aunt demanded of her anyway. However, once Lady Harriet realised that Althea had been spending her time reading the books she had snagged from the large manor-house library, she quickly had them removed.
Having absolutely no way for her to pass the time now, other than sitting in the window nook and watching people pass by on the crowded street below, it was beyond mundane. Althea had even begun to put entire stories to the people she saw passing by.
At the glimpse of a young man carrying flowers and wearing a smile, she imagined him bringing home the boutique of primroses to his lover. She imagined her to be a fair haired woman, with big, blue eyes, like the portrait of the goddess Aphrodite her father had kept hung in a hallway.
Upon seeing an old woman draped in a dark cloak, holding the hand of a small, stumbling toddler, she imagined that the woman was actually a dark witch. She needed the small red haired boy for a potion she was concocting, needing two strands of hair from a pure hearted child.
To say her days were dull was an understatement. Maybe she'd take a nap and awaken just before dinner, the one meal she was given, brought to her bedchamber by Cynthia. The poor lady's maid had worn a sullen expression each time she brought Althea a meal. It was the only human interaction Althea could get. Her aunt had not spoken to her since that night at the Duke and Duchesses ball. She wondered if her aunt would send her back to live with her father. Would he even have her? She doubted it. What would become of a "ruined" woman with no incentive to become a wife? Her aunt was likely right, her only option would be to work in a brothel. Althea cringed at the thought. She didn't actually want to live out her days selling her body to the highest paying males. But would living out her days with a man who only used her for her ability to bear offspring really be much better?
Suddenly there was a curt knock at her chamber door. Althea startled slightly, sitting up from her place at the window.
"Come in."
Cynthia's small frame strolled into her room.
"M'lady, Lady Harriet has requested your presence in the sitting room." Cynthia's face was neutral, not allowing Althea to gain an ounce of the purpose to this call. She didn't bother pestering her maid about it, for her face revealed that she likely did not know. She had probably been of little use over the last week, well with Althea being bound only to her bedchamber. She wondered if her maid was growing as antsy as she had been.
Althea followed the small woman down the narrow hallway and to the sitting room. Light harp music seeped from the cracks in the shut French doors. Cynthia pulled one open, allowing for the music to flow out freely now. It was an easy melody, light and peaceful. When Althea walked in, her aunt sat in the far corner of the room, entirely consumed by the embroidery in front of her. Did she even realise Althea was here?
As if reading her thoughts, her aunt snapped, "sit girl." She didn't look up from her needle work as Althea took a seat on the farther of the two white, tufted sofas.
The silent moments that passed felt like aeons as Althea sat, anticipating her aunt's reason for this summons.
She finally looked up, taking in Althea's complexion. She was sure she looked in absolute disarray. She hadn't, after all, bathed once since returning that night. The bottom of her gown had been caked with the dry mud of the garden, her hair had come loose from its updo and stuck to the nape of her damp, sweaty neck to which it now clung to itself in knots. The amount of dancing she did that night with her friends did nothing to her advantage. Her friends. She had often thought of those people she had met at the ball. Monique’s endless smile, and warm laughter, the way Meg and James had danced together, without a single care, and Jasper. The way he had looked at her, she found herself reliving those too short moments in her mind over and over again. His breath as he whispered into her ear, ‘I'm glad yer here Althea.’ It was such a simple sentence and yet she couldn't get the sound of his hushed voice, the way her name rolled off of his tongue, the caress of his words on her neck, out of her head. It had consumed her mind these past days.
"I do not wish for us to continue battling one another." Her aunt's words startled her from her thoughts.
She stayed silent, letting another moment pass, trying to think of a response to that. She didn't want for them to be enemies either, but she wasn't the one who had locked her aunt in her room for the past week.
"I was once a young woman too, you know,” her voice was strained, “I understand the excitement of being youthful. It is both astonishing and dreadful to see you mirroring my wretched behaviour. Yes, I too did not rush into marriage, I wished for freedom like I know you do. But what I found instead was heartbreak, betrayal and sorrow. You see when I was only a year younger than thee, I fell madly in love with a young man named Alejandro. Oh I can still see his face in my mind, that handsome, handsome face." She looked up at the ceiling as if she could carve it into the marble. "He had the affections of every young girl courting at the time, and yet he chose me. I thought he loved me, I thought he had chosen me because I was special, because he wished to make me his wife, but I was mistaken. And the way I was so insatiably taken by his charms, I fell into the thrill of him, no, I jumped into it." Her aunt nodded her head recalling the story from long ago. "That first time he let me ride on the front of his horse, holding the reins in my hands, that was my first taste of freedom, of power, and it was all consuming. My mother and father had fought hard to keep me from him, which of course only made me want him more, it only made me want more of him… It started with that, then it was the late nights drinking in risqué taverns, diving naked into cold ocean water on even colder nights, and eventually it was the intimacy. He had promised me marriage in return for my maidenhead, and I believed him. Why wouldn't I? He loved me. Or so I thought. The next day he was gone though. He only left a letter stating that he had prior affairs by which he could not marry me. That was the first time in my life I realised that sometimes our parents have a reason for wanting to protect us, after all I was ruined then, and unable to be married, now that I had soiled my virtue. Your father had to watch me go through that too, which I'm assuming, is why he opted to send you here to me. I was fortunate enough to find a husband who didn't mind that I had been soiled, and thanks to my large dowry, he married me without a second thought."
Althea did not know what to say. She had not expected that her aunt had been so… rebellious. That the woman Althea had only thought a prude had actually once wished for freedom and power as she, herself did now. She felt a sinking feeling low in her gut. Her aunt had suffered such a heartbreak, it must have been so awful, and Althea had been completely wrong about her aunt's motives. Where she saw a woman who wanted her niece to follow traditional values blindly, her aunt had really only wanted not to see her make the same mistakes that she had.
"I... I do sincerely beg your forgiveness, Aunt Harriet." Tears began to well in Althea's eyes. Her aunt's expression changed slightly into one Althea could not recognize. Suddenly her aunt wrapped her arms around her.
“Oh, my dear girl, I express my deepest regrets as well. I should not have accorded you such ill treatment. I desire only what is most advantageous for you.”
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Her aunt brushed a small strand of hair from Althea's green eyes.
"But I do have wonderful news for you..." her aunt paused, pulling away to look at her. "Sir Herbert has taken such an interest in you he wishes to have tea with you tomorrow!"
Althea's heart fumbled a beat.
"Oh." Was all she could say. A quiet, solemn word. She couldn’t conceal that dread in her tone. She had nearly forgotten the tall older man who she had repeatedly insulted over the course of their short dance. She could hardly believe out of all the beautiful courting women at the ball, she was the one he found most alluring. Why?
"Now I know you two do not know each other well yet, but I have known Sir Herbert for many years. He was my husband's financial advisor for a long time before he became a lord and a member of parliament. He is a kind man from what I know of him, and a very rich one too."
Althea could only think of his stance on women. The way he gloated that he didn't mind her opinions because she had such a pretty face. The thought made her stomach churn.
"Okay," Althea said quietly, it was barely audible but seeing her aunt's glowing smile, she knew she had heard her. "I will have tea with him tomorrow."
...
She hardly recognized her own reflection as she looked at her powdered face in the mirror. She closed her eyes and fought back the urge to release tears down those pale white cheeks. Her aunt was already waiting for her in the parlour. They had a bit of a trek to get to Lord Herbert's manor. He had sent his own carriage to pick them up, and her aunt told her it would be much more spacious than their regular carriages.
Swallowing back her urge to shutter, Althea stood and made her way to her bedchamber door.
Cynthia was on the other side, appearing to be in the act of knocking on the door, her face fell as she took in Althea's solemn expression.
"Don't fret m'lady," Cynthia whispered, eyeing the floor and walls around them, as if looking for the words to comfort her.
After a moment of silence, Cynthia spoke again, quietly, "my grandmother used to say that everything in life happens how it was meant to. I believe her words to be true," Cynthia took Althea's hands in her own cold ones looking into her eyes now, "you will find happiness Althea." Her brown eyes twinkled. Cynthia had never called Althea by her first name, not in the six years she had been employed by her family. But somehow the sound of her name on Cynthia’s lips only made her words resonate more. She would find happiness. She was on the right path.
Althea nodded and they made their way down the stairs to her awaiting aunt.
...
The large estate had a lingering scent of lavender and mint. The smell reckoned spring in Althea's mind as she sat waiting for Lord Herbert. She and her aunt had been sitting in the foyer for what must have been a half hour, and her patience was wearing thin as she finally heard the click of shoes on the marble floor outside the doors.
One of them burst open and in came the tall male, only this time no white wig lay atop his dome, but instead his natural dark black hair was pulled into a tie at the nape of his neck. Across the middle of his hair was a line of white that had grown in with age. It was similar to an animal her father had once brought to one of his dinner parties from the colonies that emitted a rancid smell. She believed it was called a skunk. The comparison made a giggle rise in Althea's throat but she quickly swallowed it down as he made his way over to her.
"My dearest Madam Lezant, I sincerely apologise for my absence, there was a written matter that required my immediate attention, but I assure you," he pulled Althea's hand up to his lips, staring into her eyes as he kissed it, "you have my undivided attention for the remainder of your visit here at my manor."
It was hard for her not to recoil from his cold touch but she steadied herself into submission.
"That is quite alright, Lord Herbert, my aunt and I were just enjoying the..." she looked around for something to compliment, "the lovely decor."
She hoped her smile looked more genuine than the words tasted in her mouth. If she were being honest, the bright yellow and blue sofas and rugs clashed against the obscure red pattern on the walls.
Judging by the wide smile that grew from his lips, she assumed she had been good at concealing how she really felt about the decor. Either that or he was just as unobservant as he looked.
“I am pleased to hear of your admiration. My designer hails from Paris, and is known for his progressive sensibilities. He draws copious inspiration from the nocturnal revelries in the clubs of India. Pray, have you ever ventured to India? I would be most honoured to extend an invitation for you to accompany me on my forthcoming sojourn. It is indeed a land of extraordinary splendour.”
This surprised her, considering how closed minded he was about other things. Maybe, just maybe he wasn't as bad as she had originally thought.
"Do you like plants?" Lord Herbert asked rather abruptly.
Althea raised a questionable brow.
Sir Herbert emitted a low chuckle, "my apologies, that was possibly too blunt, what I meant is, I have a garden here on the manor grounds, would you like to take a walk with me through it?"
Althea swallowed back her thoughts and nodded.
"That would be lovely, your lordship."
Lord Herbert's eyes lit up and he smiled, looking now at Althea's aunt.
"Wonderful! Madam Harriet, if you have no objection, I will have Raymond escort you to the sitting room for tea while Miss Lezant and I take our walk." Althea swallowed, she didn't realise her aunt would not be going with them. Fear began creeping its way back into her mind as she remembered that night with the man who attempted to violate her in her own bed.
She looked at her aunt with pleading eyes, but she knew her efforts were futile. Her aunt was already nodding her agreement.
"Of course! You two take all the time you need! I will be here enjoying some tea."
Lord Herbert's grin stretched across his face like a sly fox's as he said, "well that's settled then, shall we?" He reached out his elbow for Althea to take. She did so without meeting his lingering gaze.
She had to admit, the gardens were extraordinary. Even in the muggy heat of early July the stunning array of flowers did not wilt. In fact the rows of multi-coloured irises, dahlias and lilies blossomed more beautifully than any flowers she'd ever seen. All around the large garden were fountains and sculptures of various things. The one atop the fountain in the centre of the grounds was of a beautiful woman with long flowing hair and a garb tied loosely around one shoulder. As they neared it she noticed the most exquisite mosaic of butterflies, all various shapes and colours flying out from the centre where the fountain sat.
Althea could feel his eyes on her, watching as she beamed with wonder at the beauty in front of her.
"My wife... Well, my late wife,” he corrected quickly, “designed this, she designed all of this herself." Her heart actually began to ache for him, he sounded so melancholy.
She looked up at him for the first time since they'd entered the gardens. He tried quickly to remove the sorrowful grimace from his lips, and instead smiled slightly.
For the first time, Althea realised that perhaps this man was not the villain she had painted him to be. Maybe he was just a sad broken man who had lost the woman he loved, and he too wasn't quite ready to marry again, but needed to out of public necessity.
"What was her name?" Althea asked. She didn't know why the question arose from her throat, but he didn't seem to mind as he took a seat on the stone bench across from the fountain.
"Her name was Abigail."
Althea smiled, "that is a beautiful name."