In the end, Alexa recovered her senses at about the same instant that she heard Harriet cry out sharply, “Martin, stop! Stop this madness at once, I tell you! You’re...”
With all the suddenly mustered strength of her young, athletic body, Alexa sprang up from her seat, twisting herself free of his almost feverish grasp at the same time and almost falling to her knees before she managed to surge to her feet, panting—the chair toppling with a crash between them.
“Don’t! I haven’t...oh, but you have no right, no right to...”
“Martin! For God’s sake, have you taken leave of your senses? You must know very well that Alexa has hardly left this house for over a week!”
Harriet had spoken at almost the same time as she, but now Alexa said in a constricted, almost gasping voice, “Papa, how dare you! And I do not care at this moment that you are my father, for that does not give you the right to... accuse me and make vile insinuations without any foundation or any reason! Ohh!”
Her pretty yellow dress was actually torn at the shoulder, and she felt bruised, both inside and out. She would have given anything in the world to turn and run and to keep on running blindly, if only she had a place to run to. And now, unable to help herself, she watched him through narrowed, hostile eyes as she might have watched some stranger; even when his mouth began to work and his eyes filled with tears. Strangely she felt no pity at all on this occasion—feeling like a stranger watching a stranger.
“But you talked of marriage! Husband, you said, just as if it was already settled! Unless it was only to make me jealous... Was that it, my dear? You promise me there’s been no one? Haven’t been with a man yet? That greasy foreigner who shares Letty Dearborn’s bed— You used his first name...”
“Stop! Please...!” She had to control her breathing before she could manage to go on in a calm enough tone of voice: “If you find it difficult to believe that I am still a virgin and cannot take my word for it, then I suppose you could have me examined by a doctor if you choose. You have the legal right to make me submit to even that degradation, as I am quite aware.”
“My dear—don’t! Don’t look at me like that! I wouldn’t... You know I didn’t mean it all, don’t you? Only, when I heard you speak so lightly and casually of marriage and a husband, just as if you had one picked out already... Why, my dear, if you were only teasing me, surely you understand now how cruel it was? Wasn’t it, Harriet? And you haven’t let a man touch you, have you? My own dear Alexa—my Victorine come back to stay with me—so pure and untouched— How should you know what some men are really like? Faithless... liars... ask Harriet, she knows! Don’t you sister?”
“Martin, please! Don’t you think... The servants! We...”
“I pay them well, don’t I? Pay them well enough so they won’t eavesdrop or gossip, and they know it! And Alexa—my dear, you’ll understand and forgive me for doubting in the end, won’t you? Understand that I only mean to protect you and keep you from being sullied by filthy, treacherous hands! You’ll have everything, anything at all you want— here, where you’re safe and watched over. You love me, don’t you? Said you did, didn’t she, Harriet? You mustn’t be angry with me— You know I mean well! Shall I buy you a pretty ring to make you smile again? A brooch? You shall name what you want and I’ll give it to you—make you happy!”
“I only want... Papa, if you mean what you say then the only gift I really wish is freedom. The right to choose my own friends—and your trust as well.”
“Freedom? Own friends? I don’t understand! You don’t mean men, do you, dear? You don’t know what they’re like, and you’ll thank me some day for saving you from the pain—the shame that comes with remorse and disillusionment. Ah, my poor Victorine! She could have told you—warned you! But I always loved her, you know. Never stopped; would have taken her on any conditions. And since then she ever made me jealous, never gave me cause. You wouldn’t either, would you, Alexa? We have only each other now, you know. You and I. Alexa—no. Don’t go from me! Where...”
“If you will excuse me, please? Because—as you see, my sleeve is torn and...and I must go upstairs and change...mustn’t I, Aunt Harriet? If I may be excused?” Alexa felt as if she had been turned into ice, even the blood in her veins. And if she had to beg to be excused again she knew that her teeth would start to chatter uncontrollably.
“Of course you must change at once, before your dress slips off your shoulder and you catch a chill in this suddenly cool breeze! Yes, do run along, dear; and I’ll send Ayah up to help you.”
Chapter 21
How could what had to be a nightmare continue and continue? Why couldn’t she force herself to wake up? Alexa leaned her back against her door, hardly realizing that she was shaking as if she had the ague. She had to grit her teeth together to keep them from chattering so loudly that she could not even hear her own thoughts. Words, phrases, hints, insinuations came back to her mind like poisoned darts that kept spreading their venom in spite of all her efforts to think clearly.
What did it all mean? Oh, but perhaps she didn’t really want to know! Perhaps she would be better off to try and convince herself that nothing had happened at all. Her breathing sounded like sobs; and her eyes kept hunting about the confining space of her room almost desperately, although she had no idea what she was looking for. Oh God! All her worst imaginings then were true and he— she could hardly bear to call him Papa any longer—he did not mean to let her go. “We have only each other now, you and I.” He meant to keep her from-—defilement. “Pure and innocent.” Keep her away from all men save himself. Alexa could almost have laughed with bitter amusement at her own naive stupidity. Why had she not sensed something wrong before? He had not really come back to his senses as she and Harriet had thought. He had slipped even further into the depths of—what had to be madness, wit
hout either of them seeing it. Where before he had occasionally taken her for her mother, now he saw her as— even if her mind shied away from the ugly thought, she felt compelled to answer it. A gift to him from his Victorine. Her own mama’s surrogate! Trained to grace his dinner table and to pour his tea and be always there, so that he would not feel lonely.
Oh, I must run away! her mind cried feverishly. But where and to whom would she go? If she went to Letty it would only make trouble for her friend, and he—Papa— would think she had gone to Paul. She almost shuddered when she thought of what he might do in a demented rage. No, she could not endanger her friends. And if she had her horse saddled and rode to Kandy, what would she do there without any money of her own? She was only a female after all, and how clearly all of Harriet’s old speeches came back to taunt her now. Papa was her legal guardian, with all rights over her. He could beat her, keep her locked up in her room on a diet of bread and water; and if she tried running away he could have her brought back in disgrace, as if she were a common criminal. And if she should marry, then her husband would have the same rights over her property and her life itself. Unless... Unless...! With the thought that had come to her, Alexa’s mind seemed to clear slightly. Sir John! Dear, dear Uncle John who had offered her real freedom without conditions. He would help her. Oh why, why had she ever sent him that letter putting him off?
Alexa had never bolted her door before, but she did so now before sitting down at her small escritoire to write. Her pen sputtered and her usually neat hand had turned into an untidy scrawl, but no matter. He’d understand and he would come at once. She would not try to think further than that for the moment. A very short letter. Muttu would be taking the dogcart into Kandy with Cook for the next week’s supplies, and he was fond enough of her, she thought, to see that her letter was mailed; especially if she promised him a reward when he returned.
“Please come at once if you possibly can. I cannot explain what prompts me to write such a frantic kind of letter, but I think you know me well enough to...”
“Alexa? Alexa, why on earth have you bolted your door?” Aunt Harriet sounded slightly out of breath from the stairs, and annoyed as well, and Alexa’s. heart had leapt into her mouth for a moment.
Recovering her wits the next instant, she called out in a sulky-sounding voice that she only wished to be left quite alone for a while until she felt less upset. She could almost feel Aunt Harriet’s hesitation before she said at last in an exaggeratedly patient tone, “Very well, my dear. I suppose you will have it your own way, as usual. But I did want to have a little talk with you before dinner, and I am quite sure you must agree that we have much to discuss.”
“Well—perhaps. But only if I feel I am in a better frame of mind.”
“I hope you are not going to throw one of your childish tantrums again, Alexa. This is no time for that. Very well, I will come back in an hour then.”
Footsteps retreated, and with a ragged sigh Alexa turned her attention to finishing her letter. It was only when it was addressed and sealed that she had slipped it under her mattress for safekeeping that she remembered with a sinking feeling of dismay that she had no money for postage. Nor could she suddenly ask for money after the scene that had just taken place.
Alexa started to rack her brains, almost driven frantic with frustration by now. The servants? No! Too embarrassing, and they would probably not have enough saved up, not even her faithful old ayah who sent all of her meager salary to her only son and his family. The housekeeping money that Harriet always kept in her desk? But that would be stealing, and if she was discovered... No! Well then, perhaps she could find some change in one of her dresser drawers? In the pocket of a dress perhaps, or in one of her reticules. Alexa began to rummage through all of her possessions, uncaring of how Ayah would grumble when she had to tidy everything up again. Nothing—except for a few pennies.
She had begun to think, driven by sheer desperation, that perhaps if she could somehow get her letter to Letty or to Paul along with a note begging them to have it mailed for her, she might yet be “saved” (such a Gothic word!). Then a sudden thought—a faint recollection—made her narrow her eyes thoughtfully. She had gone through all of her reticules of course, but—the trunk! Mama’s blue trunk! And Mama had always left change lying about everywhere, in all of her reticules as well. Why, Alexa and Freddy used to play “treasure trove” when she would sometimes allow them to search for and keep whatever coins they could find. And the little bronze learner reticule that matched those bronze slippers had felt... Yes, when she had opened it to slip in her handkerchief, she was positive she’d heard the jingle of coins at the bottom.
Alexa had carefully put the key to the trunk into the pocket of one of her oldest gowns; and now she retrieved it, thanking her good memory while she twisted and turned until she heard the tiny click as the lock opened. It should be right on top, along with the slippers. And there it was! Opening the drawstring top, she put in her hand and began to take everything out, item by item. A handkerchief— hers. A small enameled snuffbox. Had Mama really indulged in such a nasty habit? A silk and lace handkerchief... But wait! It was knotted at one end to conceal something heavy. With some difficulty Alexa managed to untie the knot, and a heavy gold ring fell onto her lap. There was no doubt that it was gold, of course, both from its weight and... But it was a man’s signet ring. Far too big for a woman’s dainty fingers. And here was a crest she did not recognize, circled with tiny diamonds set cunningly into the gold to form the shape of a shield. Alexa frowned down at it. A very costly ring, a man’s ring. But how on earth had her mother come by it, and why had she left it here so carelessly? Was this the legacy she had meant? But even a ring of gold set with diamonds will not serve my present purpose, Alexa thought crossly. Perhaps later she might sell it if she had to, but not until she had found out whom the crest belonged to. She knotted up the ring again and then, with a burst of impatience, turned the reticule upside down onto the carpet. Ah, here were a few coins after all! They were all English coins, of course, but they would probably do. Silver shillings, more pennies, and here—a real treasure trove indeed—was a golden guinea! Setting the coins aside, Alexa began to thrust everything else back into the purse, including a folded piece of parchment that had been right at the bottom. How official it looked, despite the fact that it had been folded so many times that it almost looked crumpled.