Surrender to Love

No. There would be no more card-castles or card soldiers standing all in a row as they waited for a flick of the nail against the first card. No more dream castles; although one learned from those in some ways. Here, lying naked in the sunlight that had already started to turn her skin golden again, Alexa watched the clouds that floated in the distance and let herself remember, as her mind made pictures and faces out of the puffy cloud-shapes that stayed far enough away for her to feel safe, that they would not come between her and the hot golden honey of the sunlight.

England was already a dim, pastel blur in her mind— like the elusive mountain mists that vanished as soon as the sun touched them. Packing. Bridget crying. Mr. Bowles putting on his stiffest upper lip and most regal air until he’d actually turned quite human at the last minute, although he’d made sure that her Ladyship understood that it was he who was doing her a favor by following her all the way to one of the colonies.

She could almost see Harriet’s uncompromising profile carved onto the edge of one of those clouds. Thank God for Harriet and her unqualified support at least, even if she had made it quite clear from the first that she did not understand at all why two supposedly sane people who also happened to be married to each other should act like idiots or sulking children who turned their backs on each other instead of talking everything out like adults. But there were some things she could not tell Harriet and did not want to admit to herself, perhaps.

Well, Alexa, you’ve made your bed and now you must lie in it! Alone, if need be. For all of her hysterical rantings, she had taken no lovers, in the end; nor had she desired any of the handsome, polished, Spanish Dukes, Counts and Marquesses that she had been introduced to and encouraged to lie with by her grandmother. Eventually she had spent only two weeks in Spain, and had stayed that long only because she wanted to be sure of passage on one of the fastest sailing ships afloat; built in one of the New England shipyards of North America and purchased by one of the richest shipowners in England. Newbury had arranged that for her,

and almost casually he had handed her another gift too on that last occasion they had met just before she had embarked for Spain.

“So it’s the heat of the sun and, I must presume, the heated Spanish passions as well that you’re after with my dearest viper of a mother as your guide through those dangerous shoals? I am hardly cut out to play the paternal role, my dear Alexandra, but I do hope you are— aware?”

“I’m aware that she thinks to use me by encouraging me to use her,” Alexa had said calmly. “But I’m hardly interested in lovers at this point, since... Oh, I suppose you must have noticed the thickening of my waist already, since you seem to notice most things.”

“Indeed? I’m flattered you give me credit.” Newbury gave her one of his measuring looks before he said softly, “But there’s a glaring omission here, is there not? Does the infant you’re obviously carrying not have a father?”

“It’s my doing entirely!” Alexa had said heatedly, and then added, looking him straight in the eye: “ I sent Nicholas away and told him when I did that I intended to do as I please and take as many lovers as I pleased. And that I only wanted to be free of obligations. Oh damn! I beg your pardon, but it is only my condition that makes me so stupidly tearful!”

“I should hope so,” Newbury said, and continued in an interested voice, “But do you mean to give me an answer to this riddle? As I recall you were quite mad for Embry not very long ago. And so?”

She flushed, beginning to play with her handkerchief. “Yes! Yes I was, and I...you see, I cannot be quite sure if Nicholas is the father, or...or Charles. And I cannot be so... Well, Nicholas doesn’t know. And I do not want him to know either. I hope that is understood. All I want is that he should be happy with... Merde! How I hate and despise weeping women!”

Someone was calling through a megaphone that it was time for all visitors to go ashore; and when Alexa, having dabbed fiercely at her eyes, had turned them on the man who was by some freak of fate her natural father, she caught his faintly caustic smile as he said in his usual bored voice: “Well, Alexandra Victoria, I can only say that for a short time you actually succeeded in surprising me, as well as adding a certain amount of intrigue into my otherwise quite boring existence. In fact, I have often thought of what might have happened if I’d ordered you gagged after you had played Lady Godiva and...bared your all, so to speak. Noble, my dear, noble! The Amazon come to the rescue of her mate. But then it’s too bad that most men who are not quite as depraved and lacking in illusions as I am, cannot accept such a gesture in the spirit it is meant. There was your lover, beaten and tortured by the wicked villain—and I am very good at that kind of thing, by the way. But he defends you and takes the blame upon himself, almost to the end, in fact. I do believe that if you had not revealed your— our—secret when you did, the idiot might have done something absolutely stupid and senseless in order to rescue you! But then, of course—and fortunately for both of you, I might add— you did the rescuing. And very well carried out too, with suspense to the last minute while the evil Marquess, like Bluebeard, slavers over his latest prospective victim. Ah, what energy, what planning and what scheming and, in fact, what a lot of trouble you put me to for nothing! But at least it shows you’ve got some modicum of sense left. Lovers should always part while they still love each other, I believe— before the gold is tarnished and turns to dross. So you and Nicholas will always love each other, and you will each compare the other loves that come along with the one perfect, bittersweet union. My God! I do believe I might even write a play some day, if my excesses do not catch up with me first and poor Nicholas willy-nilly finds himself the next Marquess of Newbury!”

Alexa had been by turns indignant, angry, wondering and—God help her now at this late stage—elated! She met Newbury’s raised eyebrow as he made her an old-fashioned bow and told him in a severe undertone: “You know you are a thoroughly corrupt, evil, wicked man; and you will probably end up getting the clap one day, which will put an end to your nasty goings on—and it would serve you right too. But all the same, I am glad that I have had the chance to understand some things about you. Good-bye—father!” Surprising herself more than she shocked Newbury, Alexa stood on her toes to give him a swift kiss on the cheek before he could brush her away, and stepped backward to stand against the rail and watch all the visitors leave. She had not expected Newbury to turn and wave to her and nor did he. But for a moment she had thought that he looked almost...frightened!

We’re all the same way, after all, Alexa thought, and turned lazily onto her side. Frightened to show feeling, frightened of feeling because it means exposing ourselves to pain.

“For heaven’s sake, Alexa! Haven’t you had enough sun for one day? And you know how slow you are about getting dressed these days. Please do hurry! Bridget already has your bath waiting for you, so you have no more excuse for dawdling.”

Hurry, hurry, hurry! Harriet was worse than a Company Sergeant Major ordering around the newest recruit in the regiment, but Alexa had to admit she needed it or she’d become far too lazy.

The house that had been Sir John’s house was hers now but she could sometimes feel his warmly understanding presence here. She had turned herself into a kind of recluse since she had come back to Ceylon, but it was really only because she so needed to lie naked under the sun again and to draw its warmth inside herself after all the months of deprivation when she had almost turned into—one of them! The kind of cold, judgmental, rigidly encased creatures who cared only for certain rules of etiquette and what convention decreed, with no thought at all for feelings. And now at last she understood what Nicholas had tried to tell her that night in the rain when she had told him bitterly how much she despised him even while he kept her warmly in his arms. That was one of the thoughts she could not bear when she recalled how narrow her mind had become and how stubbornly she had refused to see beyond herself and the tiny margins she had set for him— as well as herself. Margins that left no room for stretching or expanding or stepping out of those self-made boundaries. How could he have cared or continued to care for the self-righteous, unhearing prig she had let herself become? Well, no use crying over spilt milk, was there? And then Alexa started to laugh. Mrs. Langford! Good God, she had almost turned into a Mrs. Langford with a proverb or a motto to suit every occasion and every situation!

“Alexa! It would be the absolute height of bad manners, not to mention bad taste, to be late for dinner on an occasion such as this.”

“I’m ready—I’m coming—yes, at once!”

“The Governor and Mrs. Mackenzie have always been so kind to you and so fond of you. Just a little gratitude shown in return...” Aunt Harry had taken up her lecture as soon as they were in their carriage, and Alexa wondered idly why she felt so tense. But then, she had always been fond of the Mackenzies and of Mrs. Mackenzie in particular, and it was sad to think that the jovial, hospitable man she remembered so well was in such bad health that he had tendered his resignation as Governor of the Crown Colony of Ceylon and would be replaced by Sir Colin Campbell, who had been one of the Duke of Wellington’s aides.

How everything changed—especially people! “Now my dear Alexa, I know how much you detest anything so vulgar as name-dropping, but in this case you know how they are all longing to hear everything they can about England, so I do hope you’ll be gracious. And...” Why did she feel so strongly that this had all happened before? Deja vu! But she had suddenly had the feeling, because of her thoughts earlier, of course, and because of the last time she had sat in a carriage with Aunt Harriet on their way to the Queen’s House on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday celebration. There had even been a moon that night, like the moon that would be rising soon. Oh, but this was silly! Wishful thinking, pipe dreams. She or her other priggish self had said that once, Alexa thought, and then promptly closed her eyes to make a wish on the first star she saw. Venus, the evening star, named after the Roman goddess of love.

“Well, thank goodness we actually arrived here. Only five minutes early. That is quite excusable.”

Dinner had been planned for such an unusually early hour, Alexa found, because all of the children had begged to be allowed to dine with the grown-ups just this once— all seven sons and four daughters, a natural phenomenon that made Alexa positively blanch when Harriet sent her a speaking look. But in the end, dinner en famille did not turn out to be quite the ordeal she had expected it might be, and they spent a pleasantly informal evening playing charades and even silly games like Hide-and-Seek and Sardines, until one by one the children were either packed off to bed, or excused themselves politely if they were older.

“You’re not tired?” Alexa was asked considerately by Mrs. Mackenzie before being invited to take a turn about the gallery, and she felt a painful kind of throb when she remembered another night and another year. At least, she thought, they were polite enough not to ask inquisitive questions about her husband, Lord Embry, and where he might be while his wife was expecting their first child.

“Look, there’s the moon. Almost full, isn’t it?”

“I suppose we’ll miss the tropics in a way, but at least we’ll be home while the children are in school, and not so far away as this.”

Alexa leaned her elbows on the railing and looked out toward the ocean, barely able to make out the riding lights of the ship that had arrived late and would have to ride an anchor until morning. Deja vu again. Or was it merely yearning that swept her back to the newness and innocence of the past with its possibilities for fresh beginnings? She let the conversation of the others flow around her and past her until she heard herself sigh and then forced herself back to the present once more.

“Well, I suppose it’s the last dinner party I’ll give here at Queen’s House,” the G

overnor said, and puffed at his cigar. Mrs. Mackenzie, Alexa remembered suddenly, smoked a hookah. Hashish. It was quite fashionable with the older generation, and even with this one, she supposed.

Ah, she felt almost smothered by her memories! Deja vu—nostalgia—even the faint scent of sadness for what might have been, drifting up to her from the jasmine and honeysuckle and gardenias.