Surrender To Love

“A pleasure, Miss Howard. I must confess that I had been looking forward to meeting you. Everyone here has been singing your praises.”

“Oh please! That is flattering to be sure, but you must not embarrass me by saying such things.”

Was that really her voice, responding so glibly with stock phrases? But during their brief exchange Alexa had been studying Lord Charles from behind the shield of her demurely lowered eyelashes; just as she knew very well that he was studying her.

He had chestnut-brown hair parted to one side, and a somewhat ruddy complexion. About four inches taller than she, he was slimly built and impeccably dressed by the right tailor, as even she could tell at a glance from the fit and cut of his clothes. And he was quite nice-looking—handsome, in fact—especially when he flashed her a conspiratorial smile that actually reached his amused brown eyes.

“Now that I have had the envied privilege of being presented to you, Miss Howard, I wonder if you would consider it too bold of me to importune you for the honor of a dance? I have to confess that I am hoping to be ahead of some of my shipmates who have been eagerly waiting for the guest of honor to arrive.”

Was it proper for her to accede to his request so soon after they had met? Alexa’s inquiring glance met with a smiling nod from the Governor’s wife, and she was able to turn back with a smile of her own to the young man who waited for her reply and to say without any of the usual coyness he was used to encountering from most of the young women he met, “I’m sure I shall enjoy dancing with you—and especially since you are the first gentleman who has had the initiative to ask me for a dance.”

She was quite enchanting, Lord Charles thought, as he said eagerly, “A waltz?”

He was rewarded by the sight of that tantalizing dimple of hers again and the flash of pretty white teeth. She seemed to hesitate for an instant before saying, “Oh yes! But not the first waltz though, for I’ve promised that to my adopted uncle.”

“The second waltz then…?” When she gave a slight inclination of her head in assent, Lord Charles looked into her intriguingly shaded eyes and murmured fervently, “I shall count each second until then, Miss Howard!” To his own surprise he found that he had, for a change, actually meant what he had just said.

“Well! And now that’s settled, Alexandra and I must be moving along. You young men of today take so long to come to the point! Can’t understand it!”

Alexa caught a long, almost caressing look from Lord Charles that should have made her blush, but instead only made her feel quite elated. Lord Charles. A Viscount, no less. (That ought to please Aunt Harriet!) And he seemed very nice too, and quite taken with her. Suddenly Alexa felt positively giddy with a rising sense of power as she thought: Shall I try to make him fall in love with me? And what if he does? There’s not much to flirting, really…it’s like acting out a part in a play. And in a way it’s such fun—finding out how easy it is after all to manipulate men, and finding out as well that they are not the omnipotent beings they think they are!

Alexa’s eyes had begun to sparkle and her cheeks to glow; and even Harriet was surprised at this sudden transformation in her wayward, recalcitrant niece who had stormed and sulked earlier at being forced to take part in some “silly charade” as she had termed it then. Now this new Alexa Howard was surrounded by a bevy of eager young men who were almost to the point of quarreling with each other as they begged for dances—or for even half a dance. And how quickly she seemed to have learned and adopted the coy arts and mannerisms of a born coquette, too, Harriet reflected. Unless it was in her blood, passed down to her by her mother, Victorine, who had seemed always to have known how to make men fall in love with her and never cease craving her. Even now, and after so many years, wasn’t her brother, Martin, still completely besotted by her? If Harriet had not made herself useful to Victorine, there was no doubt that her brother would have let her go out of his house and his life without qualm. A witch of sorts, Victorine had been, and perhaps still was. Some women seemed to have a power over men that was impossible to explain or to analyze. Helen of Troy…Cleopatra…Delilah…Madame Pompadour. And some of the most famous and sought-after courtesans, who could have anything they desired from their men except marriage. But why on earth were her thoughts suddenly taking such a strange direction when Alexa was only following her advice after all? Alexa was only eighteen and playing a make-believe game because she had promised to make everyone proud of her tonight. Tonight she was Cinderella at the ball, surrounded by would-be Princes, but tomorrow she would probably be back to her old self once more.

I should be pleased and happy! Harriet reprimanded herself as she noticed that while Alexa led a reel with the Governor himself the young Viscount had not taken his eyes off her for one moment. A Viscount—young and single into the bargain. And every mama there with a marriageable daughter was gritting her teeth, of course—particularly that detestable gossip, Mrs. Langford. Alexa herself looked happy, and as if she was thoroughly enjoying herself. There was absolutely no sensible reason, therefore, Harriet thought, for the strange feeling of anxiety—almost of foreboding—that stayed with her like an uncomfortable weight she could not shake off. No, she was being completely ridiculous!

“I suppose I do not need to ask if you are enjoying your first ball or not,” Sir John Travers said, smiling down into his young partner’s flushed and glowing face as they waltzed. “In fact, I can almost feel the jealously hostile looks that are aimed at my back this minute! Do you realize, my dear, that you have taken them all by storm? From now on you will have to make plans for every hour of your time; allotting just so many minutes to each different swain!”

“Never! Oh, Uncle John, do stop teasing, for you know me better than to think I would…. Why, most of them are far too silly to bother with; especially some I used to think of as my friends, who called me “Alex” and never bothered to act so gallant before. And now they are suddenly making calf’s eyes at me and swearing that they have always been in love with me and acting as if—as if I had suddenly become someone quite different when it is they who have changed. Just because I am all dressed up like a lady for a change and have been playacting! One would think…But do you think it is because men too feel obliged to playact? Do they feel obliged to flirt and flatter merely to prove that they are masculine?”

Sir John expelled a slight sigh before he answered a trifle ruefully: “I am very much afraid so, my dear. Especially the young men—most young men, one must suppose—who are influenced by the example set by their elders or by superior officers. Pursuing an attractive young woman is looked upon, I’m ashamed to say, as another form of hunting; and the larger the field, the greater the challenge. Even courtship has developed into a form of ritual these days, with so many prescribed moves to be made—the correct things to say and do to which a woman is supposed to respond correctly also. It has become almost like learning the steps to the latest dance, and it is called ‘polite etiquette’…”

“Oh,” Alexa said thoughtfully before Sir John added hastily, not wishing to dampen her high spirits with philosophy at this time, “But that is not supposed to mean that a man may not be utterly sincere when he expresses his feelings. Men too have been known to fall madly in love at first sight, you know.”

He had to admit to himself that Alexa’s rather matter-of-fact response took him by surprise.

“Well, I think that anyone who professes to fall in love at first sight must be extremely silly. Why, some of the young men I’ve met tonight have only just met me, and know nothing of me—only this Cinderella creature they have glimpsed for the first time tonight. So perhaps what is termed “falling in love” is a ritual too? For how could anyone know what I am like, or what I think, and what kind of a person I really am? At least you know how hard I fight to get my own way, and what an abominable temper I have—because you know me—but they don’t. And they don’t really care about that either, do they? As long as I show myself to be what I am expected to be, I suppose, and don’t show myself to be too intellectual or too clever…!”

Sir John’s mouth quirked as he shook his head at her, but his eyes remained serious as he said quietly: “You mustn’t become cynical too soon, Alexa, not before you’ve given yourself time to experience more of life and understand more of human emotion. Try to enjoy tonight for what it appears to be on the surface and for the learning experience it is proving to be; no more and no less for the moment at least. You’re the most popular, the most sought-after, and the most envied young woman here tonight, you know. Why not savor it to the fullest extent? There’s no need for haste, my dear.”

Long after he had escorted Alexa back to her seat beside her Aunt Harriet, only to have her hand claimed almost immediately by an eager young captain of the Dragoons, Sir John Travers continued to watch her and to remember the first time he had set eyes on the skinny beanpole of a child she had been and the strange sense of affinity he’d felt for her even then. Her bare brown legs had been all scratched from thorns and the sharp leaves of mountain grass, but she had been defiantly riding bareback a wild pony she had actually tamed herself; and there had been an air of almost arrogant triumph about the little wild thing she had been even though she must have known the punishment she faced for having slit her dress up on both sides in order to ride astride. He had interceded for her that day and had introduced her to thoroughbreds and to saddles—but never a decorous side-saddle for Alex, who had always wished she had been born a male. Until now, perhaps, when she had suddenly discovered the feminine side of herself?

Under the crystal chandeliers Alexa’s auburn hair with gold streaks interwoven in it shone like burnished bronze and drew almost every masculine eye, although she herself was not aware of it. Seating himself beside Harriet in the chair her niece had barely sat in all evening, Sir John became engaged in a low-voiced conversation with the older Miss Howard that had her shaking her head at first and then nodding it resignedly. He was right, of course, Harriet had to concede. Now that Alexa had been introduced to society and had proved a success, she needed to follow up that success by spending more time in Colombo, meeting more people.

Alexa had not failed to notice that Sir John and her aunt were engaged in what was obviously a deep conversation. At first she had thought Aunt Harry seemed doubtful about something, from the way she frowned and shook her head; but then she had begun to nod in a somewhat resigned fashion, which was unusual for her and had to mean that Uncle John had some exciting scheme in mind. When would she find out what it was? For it had to concern her, of course. Alexa could tell that much from the many times they glanced in her direction, and she was so full of curiosity that she was barely able to respond to the stilted conversation forced upon her by Captain McLeish. At least she had learned in a very short time that she was not really required to do anything more than listen—and to smile or lower her eyes occasionally while breathlessly murmuring innocuous words like “oh!” or “really?” or “please, do go on!” even if she was unutterably bored by every pompous word her partner uttered. Lies and pretense were the foundation of this new social world she found herself in, and honesty would only make an outsider of her. But how strange it was—and how paradoxical—to be brought up as a child to tell the truth, no matter what the cost, and to despise dishonesty and cheating; and then suddenly to be thrown into the adult world where those were the very things expected of you if you were to be considered “grown up”—and where everyone played at “Let’s Pretend” and took it seriously.

After Captain McLeish had reluctantly escorted Alexa back to the seat Sir John had just vacated, she said as much to Harriet. “It is all like some tremendous game, isn’t it? But once you learn the rules it is almost too easy, and hardly fun any longer—not if you can predict everyone else’s moves and beat them at their own game! And every man I have danced with so far—except for Uncle John, of course—has been so predictable and so boring! It’s as if they have all been cut from the same pattern.”

Harriet snorted her disgust. “Hah! So you’re bored and quite blasé already, are you, with the evening not even halfway through yet. My advice to you, miss, is to develop some humility for your own good, and not become too cock-a-hoop. ‘Cut from the same pattern’ indeed! And what, pray, if you should happen to come across some completely unpredictable man who does not fit into any prescribed pattern? There are men who are…well…blackguards—although I hate to use the word. Men who might come from the most exalted stations in life and might use all the right words and pay lip service to etiquette and convention; and be admired and well thought of by their colleagues and cronies too. You must remember that men will stand up for each other, and it’s always a woman who is blamed if she makes a mistake.”

Alexa’s eyes widened as Harriet pursed her lips over the euphemism she had just used, and then she shrugged impatiently and somewhat resentfully before saying: “I am not so naive, I’m sure, that I will not be able to recognize a man who is a blackguard, if I should meet one. And even if I should, I am surely more than adequately chaperoned tonight, am I not? And thank goodness I am a little more sensible than most of the poor, simpering females here; so that I hardly think…”

“And how sensibly do you imagine you’d continue to think if you should ever imagine yourself to be in love?” Harriet’s voice, as she broke in abruptly, was caustic. “Yes—in love. Madly and unreasonably in love with a man. Happy when he smiles at you and comes to call. Desperately miserable if he smiles at someone else or you do not see him for days. And then? No, don’t shake your head at me in that decided fashion, my dear, for it could happen to you just as easily as it could to anyone else. And pray do not commit the dangerous error of imagining that you are the only female to be miraculously exempt from such a sickness—for that is what it can be like.”

Alexa’s voice sounded almost startled as she said, “Why, Aunt Harry…!” And then, happening to catch Lord Charles’s eyes for an instant, she was able to look back at her aunt with a brilliant smile before continuing: “Believe me, you can be sure that there is not the slightest danger that I will ever fall in love. How foolish that would be—to become a willing slave to some silly, pompous man and have my happiness depend on his smiles or frowns—for all the world like a fawning hound. Never! You can be assured that you have taught me that much at least! I would much rather have it the other way around and make a man my slave—make him fall madly in love with me….” Lord Charles had begun to make his way towards her in a purposeful manner, until he had been stopped by one of his friends, who had put a hand on his arm. But Alex had not failed to notice that he had watched her all this time and had not danced with any other woman but the Governor’s wife so far.

Harriet, following the direction of Alexa’s wandering eyes, sighed inwardly, although her dry voice betrayed none of her concern.

“All well and good, my girl, although I hope you will try not to make your ambitions and your intentions too obvious!” In a milder tone she said, “What I would wish for you is a husband who will understand you and indulge you as well as love you; and that he will be, hopefully, a man that you can respect and care for as well.”

“Oh yes, I’ve already decided that,” Alexa said a trifle absently. “If I decided to marry I would have to like him of course, or it would never do. And he must be enormously rich into the bargain—otherwise there would be no point in my marrying him at all!”

“Very sensible! But I do hope that when you make your final choice of a husband it will be after a period of time in which you can come to know each other. There’s an old saying that ‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,’ and that applies to men as well. Especially those, titled or not, who might only be visiting Colombo for a day or two at the most.”

“A day or two? But plans can be changed, can they not? After all, there are always ships that drop anchor here on their way to England.” And then, losing her attitude of confidence, Alexa suddenly stiffened and shot her aunt a dismayed look. “Oh! Oh dear, I had almost forgotten that we might not be staying in Colombo for more than a day or two!”

“Yes, I thought you might have overlooked that fact while you were so busy plotting and planning. You should have remembered that we were supposed to return home the day after tomorrow.”

“Were?”

“Ah! So you caught that, did you? I thought you might, with that sharp mind of yours. Well, I suppose I might just as well tell you now before that poor man you sent off to fetch you a glass of punch returns.” Harriet sent Alexa a silencing look before continuing. “Sir John was kind enough to suggest that you might find it enjoyable to spend a week or two in Colombo as a guest in his home. He thought that you might, in that period of time, have a better opportunity to—shall we say—winnow out those particular young men you might want to allow to continue dangling after you? Hrmph! All of them that I’ve noticed so far act like silly, moonsick calves, but I suppose that’s neither here nor there. In any case, I don’t suppose a short sojourn here would do any harm; and it might prove to be a useful experience—for everyone concerned,” Harriet finished significantly.

But by then Alexa’s eyes were already fired with excitement and anticipation. “Oh, how I do love Uncle John, and how kind and understanding he is! Do you think I’ll be asked to more balls and parties? And if I am, I don’t think Papa would mind very much the expense of two or three more new gowns, do you? I’m sure there must be excellent tailors here in Colombo…. How long do you think we can stay?”

“Alexa!” Harriet shook her head, stemming the flow of words. “You must understand that it is quite out of the question for me to stay on here for longer than we had planned. Your mother will need me to see to the household while she is busy nursing Freddy, and your father will need assistance with those tiresome ledgers as usual. And there’s no need for you to wear that martyr’s look, because you know very well that it was I who took care of everything before you were old enough to recite your multiplication tables. No, it has been decided, and you are to stay. I will explain everything to your mama and papa and I am sure they will approve.”

“But…”

“If you are wondering if you are to be left without a chaperone, you may put that thought out of your head at once! As you know, the Langfords are presently occupying Sir John’s guesthouse, and I’m quite certain that Mrs. Langford will prove more than adequate as both chaperone and mentor, while her daughter Charlotte…”

“Oh no! Not the Langfords, of all people! That thin-lipped dragon of a woman who kept looking me up and down as if she wished that she could find some positively dreadful fault in me so that she could gloat over it…and that mealy-mouthed daughter of hers with all the sly insinuations she makes in a sickly sweet voice while she watches me all the while to discover if her barbs have drawn blood…why, I remember saying to you only a short time ago that I could not possibly…”

Harriet said sharply: “Well, my dear, then you must remember what I said to you in reply. I can only tell you that if you wish to stay on in Colombo you will have to put up with the Langfords or you may choose to turn down Sir John’s offer and return home with me instead. I daresay that in time you’re bound to meet some nice young planter…”

Alexa had been worrying her lower lip with her small, white teeth while Harriet had been speaking, a sure sign that she was attempting to make up her mind. And now, when Harriet paused significantly, she said in a rather sullen voice, “But the Langfords! Why couldn’t it have been anyone else?”

“Well, my dear, if you could take a completely objective view of the situation, you might be able to consider it a kind of test, perhaps?”

“A test? I cannot imagine…” Harriet met Alexa’s rather suspicious look with a studiedly impatient shake of her head.

“Surely you’re sensible enough to realize by now that not everyone you meet will like you or be likeable to you. And yet society and good manners demand that we must be polite and not allow ourselves to be goaded into losing our tempers, which only serves to give others the advantage over us. In other words, you might look on your stay in Colombo, if you choose to stay, as a test of your self-control, perhaps? And of your readiness to go out into a world of other people and survive its perils and pitfalls by being clever enough to use your intelligence instead of being swayed by mere emotion; but perhaps you don’t feel yourself to be ready yet?”

Harriet saw the effect of her cunning speech as Alexa’s vividly expressive face seemed to harden; and behind the cover of her fan she leaned closer to the girl in order to drive her point home as she added in a low, and almost fierce voice: “You see, my dear Alexa—and you must see, must understand if you are to survive and still remain wholly your own person—the most important lesson of all is control over all the emotional weaknesses that mankind has been cursed with: rage, hate, blindly misplaced pity, and—obsession. Which is merely another and more descriptive term for the sorry state of ‘being in love.’ But if you have enough strength of character to resist giving in to such weakness, then you might achieve anything you wish to achieve because you will always retain the advantage!” Taking a deep, rather uneven breath, Harriet sat back again, composing her features into their normal, almost forbiddingly austere lines.

She had said too much to Alexa perhaps. Almost without volition she had opened up old wounds that were still far too tender and released, like oozing pus, too much bitterness. And yet Alexa, so young and lovely and full of the joy of living, had become over the years much more Harriet’s child than Victorine’s; and this was the time that Harriet hoped she had prepared her for—armed her for—the time when she would have to take her own first steps by herself into the world of her future. Whether Alexa would use what she had been taught—let her mind rather than her heart guide her—remained to be seen and was beyond Harriet’s control now.

She heard a hard little voice that was scarcely recognizable as Alexa’s say softly at her side, “Thank you, Aunt Harriet, for reminding me of everything. And now I am not even afraid any longer of anyone or of anything; so you must not continue to worry about how I shall get on. I shall do very well indeed!”

“Hah!” Harriet, with an effort, managed to sound like her usual self. “We’ll have to see about that, shan’t we? But for the moment I wish you would try to smile and show off your dimple, my dear, for I think I sense a collision, if not a confrontation, between two of your admirers. Here comes your Viscount with a determined look in his eye, and the Governor’s junior aide with the glass of punch you requested some time ago. And don’t look to me for help; I intend to sit back and observe for myself how well you manage to deal with such crises.”