Stella Rosa

Part IV

My first days at Bloomfield were exceedingly strange. They combined the rapture of being, almost constantly, in the delightful company of the one I loved, the bitterness of having grieved my family, and the fear of separation from Sir William. The latter, however, was alleviated after about a week passed and no-one came for me. My family surely knew where I was, and yet, they made absolutely no attempt to retrieve me.

Sir William was sensible of my feeling of guilt before my loved ones; he said often that if it is ever up to him, the rapport with my family should be restored. I was grateful that he held no prideful grudge against them for my father's rejection--yet, deep inside, it grieved me to know that no such familial relationship is ever possible.

In the first days of May, Lady Henrietta Hester arrived from London with her daughters. I was properly mortified at having caused her such inconvenience, and determined to establish a most friendly relationship with her and my two future sisters.

The latter proved easier than the former, as the both girls, Vanessa and Alexandra, were genuinely excited about my arrival and ready to acknowledge me as their sister. Their mother, on the other hand, behaved towards me with cold civility. The only times she made an attempt at conversation was when Sir William was around; as soon as he quitted the room, she fell silent and dedicated all of her attention to her reading or embroidery.

Though disappointed, I resolved to dedicate myself to at least becoming friends with her daughters. And the first step towards that was, I felt, an apology long overdue. So one morning, after breakfast, I asked Vanessa to take a turn with me in the garden, to which she readily agree.

We walked out. Alexandra, the younger sister, dashed to and fro, trying to catch one of the first May butterflies. I cared not whether she heard what I had to say, for I did it with a light heart.

"Vanessa," I said, "I wanted to thank you for your kindness in accepting me here."

"How could I not?" she said earnestly. "I am overjoyed at my brother's happiness--and I like you prodigiously."

"As to that," I said, looking her straight in the eye, "that is not entirely deserved."

"I know not what you mean!" Vanessa exclaimed, perhaps with less than perfect sincerity.

"I think I behaved most uncivilly to you when you came to inquire after me in March."

She raised her eyebrows, pretending to be surprised. "I have forgotten that," she said. "But you were right to scorn me then. I was messing in something, which I really had no business messing."

"You were concerned about your brother's welfare--it is a natural sentiment for a sister."

"True," she agreed. "But as I could offer you no assurances of his affection, your reaction to my interference was perfectly natural. But now it is all to be forgot, Stella."

So we agreed on that and shook our hands warmly. I really did like Vanessa a great deal; while the young Alexandra was joyful and a pleasure to look at, she was still very much a child, and could not provide me with companionship. Vanessa took, though imperfectly, the place of my beloved Elena, whom I missed dreadfully, every second of the day.

Sir William tarried in Bloomfield for a whole week after his mother's arrival. He had had the banns published in two parishes, at Bloomfield and in Whitechapel--which was more of a symbolism, as my name did not even appear in that church's register. We were nervously awaiting my parents' interference with our plans, but days passed and nothing happened. Just in case, Sir William also applied to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license, hoping against hope to expedite our wedding.

Finally, when it became clear that his presence at Bloomfield was no longer proper, he told me that he was to go to London. It made me sad; I cared little for what the neighbors would say, for I did not even know them, but without him, I felt extremely alone. He promised me that he were to return a couple times in the next two weeks, and asked me what gifts I wanted from London. I laughed and begged him to come back sooner.

It was on the eve of his leaving, as we walked together through the park, that Sir William kissed me for the very first time. While at Brighton, he sometimes dared to touch his lips to mine, and though I found it exceedingly pleasant, we never ventured past that timid caress.

That warm, fragrant evening, as we walked together through the park, Sir William and I chanced upon a delightful clearing, where the grass was lush, surrounded by regal pine-trees. There, I sat down on a large stone, and Sir William stood near, leaning against a pine-tree, looking at me with earnest regard.

"Oh Stella fair," he mused, not taking his eyes off my face. "I rarely see you alone anymore."

"But did you not wish for the presence of your sisters and Lady Hester?"

"I love my mother and sisters dearly," he said. "But these days, I want nothing but to be all alone with you."

"And yet you are to go!"

"I have business in London. And the neighbors are already talking. I have stayed too long as it is, Stella."

"S-- William, why do you care what the neighbors are saying?"

"Stella, we are to live among them. Our children will grow up here at Bloomfield. Must it be said that you and I lived together before marriage?"

"No, that would be quite scandalous," I had to agree. "After all," I added, trying to be sensible. "It is only two weeks until we are married."

His regard gave me an intimation that this period seemed to him an eternity; suddenly, there was something in his eyes, which stirred my blood and made my face rather hot.

Sir William stepped away from the tree and knelt in front of me on the grass. I pretended to busy myself with the removal of tiny pieces of bark had attached themselves to the coat on his back. "You shall need to have this cleaned--" I muttered, as I looked over his shoulder and picked the nearly invisible particles off the material.

"Stella," he said, and suddenly, his strong hands were on my face, cradling it, his handsome visage was closer, and it was difficult to breathe.

"I have so wanted to do this," he whispered as his fingers traced my features. Leaning low, he touched his lips to mine. He had done this before, but this time, he did not stop or pull away, but kept pressing, probing, gently but forcefully. His arms were now wound around my waist, pulling me close and cradling me against him. In some kind of abandon, I slipped my arms around his neck, and responded, the best I could, to his kiss.

This drove him wild; he emitted an unintelligible groan and I immediately felt a shiver go through him. His arms tightened around my waist and, to my greatest agitation, I felt his tongue probe gently and tentatively around my teeth and lips. His hand was now caressing, with complete abandon, the back of my neck and playing with my hair.

I had never been kissed like that before. Once the embarrassment went away, the feeling of his mouth on mine was most delightful. It made my head spin and my heart throb most cruelly; that we were doing anything wrong, I could not surmise.

I was therefore heartily surprised, when all of a sudden, he forcefully disengaged himself from my embrace and for a moment, turned his face away from me.

"Forgive me, forgive me," he muttered. "I should not-- I have forgotten myself."

"William," I looked into his face, and noticed that he was in a state of great agitation, "Have we done anything wrong?"

With a slight moan, he toppled on the grass, closing his eyes. "The truth is," he said, "that perhaps, I am better off leaving than staying. This way I know that my heart won't burst and I shan't die of a heart attack. No," he said, "now that I know how sweet your kiss is, I really need to go, before I do something prodigiously stupid."

He helped me up from the grass, and together, we walked back to the house, silent. I was frightened and delighted at the same time; he was always a perfect gentleman around me and tonight, I had seen his passionate, nearly animal, side. I was, nay, I meant to be frightened; but something inside of me rejoiced at his passion for me, and it was most confounding--for I had previously thought all callings of the flesh somewhat base.

William left the next morning. I came out to say good-bye to him, and as I reached up for his kiss, he prudently gave me a most tame one, most likely remembering how undone he was last night. He then mounted his horse and was gone, having promised to be back in the end of the week. After the sound of Zanzibar's hooves became lost in the morning myst, I turned and went back to the house, which felt, without him, much too large and far too grave.

William

When in London, William called on Henry de Lara. He was not at all sure why he did that: perhaps his natural decency commanded him to beg forgiveness of Stella Rosa's brother for taking his sister away; perhaps, he hoped to give Mr. de Lara information as to Stella Rosa's well-being.

William anticipated a most unwelcoming reception. He tried to imagine what he would say--or do--to a man who had carried off one of his sisters. Although in his mind, he found a million excuses for himself and Stella, he understood that nobody in her family could have any affinity for him after what he had done. He was, therefore, fully prepared to thrown out of Henry de Lara's house, and was pleasantly surprised that the young man was civil, if cold, to him.

"Have you come to give me news of my sister?" De Lara inquired as he showed William to his study.

"You have no doubts, de Lara, that Miss Stella is with me?"

"None whatsoever," the young man said, coldly. "To tell you the truth, nobody in my family has the slightest doubt in that respect. So," he asked, pointing at a chair. "How is she?"

"She is well," William replied, sitting down, while his host remained standing. "But she misses her family greatly, and it breaks her heart to know that she was forced to do what she did."

Henry de Lara chuckled. "Sir, William, may I offer you anything? Scotch, perhaps?"

William refused, with thanks, and De Lara went on. "My sister was not forced to do anything. She was to be betrothed to a man of a good family, who would probably make her an excellent husband. Her marriage was to add to the fortunes and connections of our family. As it stands right now, we are shamed. Stella Rosa has made a veritable laughingstock of our family, Sir William."

William was silent; he had nothing to say to that. He could not imagine the society disapprobation if one of his sisters was to elope with a most ineligible man; he could not imagine his own shame and consternation.

"Does it not matter that that marriage was abhorrent to her heart?"

"No," De Lara distractedly fingered his beard, which made him look a good half-dozen years older than his age. "The only thing I had ever seen of Viola before we were betrothed to each other was a portrait. Stella was at an advantage--she knew her fiancé, had known him for years. It should have been her misfortune that she got into her head that she could not like him. Most people, with time, learn to like and respect, if not love, their mates, Sir William."

He sighed and took a turn around the room, pacing back and forth. "But now, now, it is all ruined for us. Sir William, it will take my family years to wash off the shame that Stella has brought on us. I think she should know that. I do not think that my sister should live in comfortable ignorance of the evil that her behavior has done."

William lowered his head stubbornly. "I should be the judge of that," he said.

De Lara perched awkwardly on the corner of the monumental desk.

"Do you intend to marry her?"

"What kind of profligate scoundrel do you take me for, de Lara?" William asked. "I am a man of honor. I should never have approached your sister, had I not been in love with her and ready to marry her immediately."

"When will the blessed even take place?" De Lara asked with scathing sarcasm.

"I have published the banns the next day after Miss de Lara came to be with me," William said. "The answer to your question is--in a fortnight."

"My congratulations to you, then! My sister is to be married in a church, then?"

William acquiesced; upon which de Lara laughed and shook his head.

"I think you should tell her, Sir William, that the brunt of her father's anger fell on those who were kindest to her--her mother and Elena. I am a grown man, with a home of my own, and was able to get away, but my younger sister, I am afraid, had no escape from his just wrath."

"Miss Elena had no involvement in this," William said, gravely. "Indeed, our elopement was of a most unplanned nature."

The last order of business remained; what, William only just realized, he had really come to ask for.

"De Lara," he said, a little too harshly. "I would like to assure you--and perhaps, the rest of your family, if that should give them any comfort--that Miss de Lara will always be provided for. I am rich, de Lara, and she should never want for anything. If that helps your family accept this, tell them, too, that I love her more than my own life. But do not, by any means, attempt to separate us, for I shall not give her up."

Henry de Lara said, thoughtfully. "I think I speak for my family when I say that Stella is safe with you. I do not imagine my father ever wanting to see her again, and especially, trying to return her--she is now an obligation, a burden, and a cause of misery for all of us, for certainly no respectable Jew would ever marry her now. My mother misses her, of course, but I doubt my father could be prevailed on to even allow her to come to the house. In fact," he added softly, "I can even say this: for all intents and purposes, my family views my sister as dead."

William quitted Henry de Lara's house soon afterwards with an unpleasant aftertaste. To be sure, de Lara was more than obliging, considering the situation, but William remained uneasy. He wondered if that was because he felt scorned--that because marriage to him was such a fundamental evil that it effectively removed Stella Rosa from the circle of her family. But these thoughts were wrong, unpleasant, and made him miserable; to cheer himself up, he decided to go and buy her a present.

Stella Rosa

My days were longer without Sir William, and thus allowed more opportunity for reflection. It was most unwelcome, because it immediately lead me to feel guilty and ashamed for what I have done to my family. I knew only too well the unforgiving juderia; I knew that my family was to be a subject of tacit ridicule, as they could not control their daughter. What my father must have said to Elena I shuddered to think of.

Because loneliness lead to sadness, I often thought out the company of Vanessa and Alexandra. The latter was still a child--a delightful one at that. I found that Sir William's estimation of her, overheard by me when we first met, did not do her justice. Alexandra was a sweet girl, with a kind heart, always ready to commiserate with those less fortunate. Lady Hetty frowned upon her habit of bringing home lost, wounded, and otherwise miserable animals; Vanessa related to me that once, when their father was already very ill, Alexandra brought home a stray dog, which foamed at the mouth and had its tail tucked in--it was obviously very much mad. "It was a miracle it did not bite her or any of us," the older sister said. Alexandra was gentle and fair, with large blue eyes, having taken after her mother.

Vanessa was five years Alexandra's senior, two years out, and very different from her. Very tall--almost as tall as Sir William himself--with dark hair and eyes, she was slower and more thoughtful that her younger, explosive sister. Very intelligent, she made an excellent conversation partner and alleviated somewhat my longing for Elena.

In Sir William's absence, I often took promenades with his sisters. Both girls were much enamored of riding, but I had never been on a horse, and for my sake, they walked as well. The sisters served as my guides to Bloomfield Park, where they had grown up, and which they adored. Though they now mostly lived in London with their mother, they had never ceased to think of the delightful Bloomfield as their home.

It was also during that time that I met Sir William's younger brother, Samuel. It was so:

I woke up to a horse neighing outside of my window. My first thought was, of course, that Sir William had come from town, but when I rushed to the window, I only saw, in the morning mist, a servant take away a rather large horse, which I knew not to be Zanzibar. It did not stop me from thinking that he was come, so I dressed feverishly and rushed downstairs.

Flying down the stairs, I practically flew into a tall young man with tousled dark hair, who winced and stepped aside. Vanessa, who stood next to him, huddled in a shawl, smiled and presented me as

"Miss Stella Rosa de Lara, soon to be our sister. Stella this is my brother Samuel, only just come from Cambridge."

Deeply embarrassed at my entrance, I curtsied and muttered greetings. The young man, pleasant enough, bowed and kissed my hand.

"But I rode for hours, and I am starved!" he effused. He looked nothing like Sir William, and to my eyes, presented a curious cross between his two sisters: tall and dark like Vanessa, he had Alexandra's pallor and large blue eyes. He looked to be about my age, and, as it turned out, has only just matriculated from Cambridge.

"Mother is still asleep," Vanessa said, as the three of us sneaked into the kitchen. There, Mrs. Livesay was already taking out large loaves of bread out of the oven. "She had expected you by teatime only!"

"I was able to leave with an earlier post," he replied and was immediately all smiles as he spied Mrs. Livesay.

"Livesay, old girl!" he cried, as the housekeeper turned around and curtsied to him.

"Mr. Samuel," she said, smiling, a look of gladness on her face. "Congratulations on finishing your studies, sir."

Yet he immediately forgot of her and indeed, of anything else, as he spied a fresh loaf of bread and proceeded to pinch it most cruelly.

"Samuel!" his sister chastised him. "Do sit down and eat something proper! I am sure Mrs. Livesay does not enjoy you mutilating her loaves like so!"

"But I am hungry," he protested, plopping on a chair in the corner. "You see, Miss de Lara, when we were children we spent entirely too much time in Livesay's kitchen!"

"Yes, it is a big surprise you've all turned out so gaunt," the woman quipped at him with surprising freshness.

As he ate, Samuel Hester studied my face closely. "So," he said, "you are the woman who has up and captured my brother's unyielding heart."

"Unyielding?" I repeated.

"Until he met you, I had been wondering if anything was wrong with him--he paid no attention whatsoever to the fairer sex."

"Samuel!" Vanessa threw her brother a stern look.

"You know I am right. Women have always gathered 'round him like flies--and he could have married a thousand times already. But when I received his letter a month ago, I knew--I simply knew, that it had to be something extraordinary! And I daresay, you are a beauty, sister!"

"Will has more cares that you or I do, Samuel," Vanessa said, crossly. "Since father fell ill for the first time, he has all but replaced him--as a father and as a master!"

"Ah, you are always on his side, Ness."

"My name is Vanessa, Samuel, I would appreciate if you used it properly."

"Right, surely, madam," he bowed to her in mockery. "And how shall I address you, my fair sister?" he turned to me.

"You can just call me Stella," I said, beginning to become uncomfortable with his overly familiar behavior.

"Stella, what a beautiful name!" he effused. He did not look to me like a man who had just spent a night on the road.

I was saved from further mortification--for the last thing I wished was to encourage any advances on the young man's part--by pitter-patter of feet and jumping and crying out, of Alexandra. She rushed into the kitchen, wearing her dressing gown, and flung her arms around her brother's neck.

The rest of our stay in the kitchen, until proper breakfast was served and Samuel decided to take his rest, was spent in Alexandra's eager inquiries as to his graduation from Cambridge, the taking of his degree, and whether she could see his diploma.

Sir William came home, as he had promised, a week after he left. Vanessa and I had only just come out from one of our walks through Bloomfield; Alexandra and Samuel, who had gone on horseback, rode ahead, but the two of us tarried, inhaling the fragrant spring air and delighting in Bloomfield's natural beauty.

We appeared from the woods and were met by Alexandra, who rushed out in great excitement, crying out to us:

"Nessa! Stella! Come quick, Will's home!"

We ran towards the house, and as I rushed into the drawing-room, I indeed saw Sir William, who was standing, leaning against the mantel, listening to some account that his mother was relating to him. I stopped on the threshold, and he immediately turned around, as if sensing my presence. To my great delight, an expression of joy spread immediately around his beloved visage, as we rushed towards each other.

"Stella!" he said softly, taking my hands in his. From saying more, or expressing himself more warmly, he was prevented by others in the room, but he still managed to whisper to me how much he missed me.

But yes, there were others in the room. In addition to Lady Hester, his sisters and brother, two strangers, wearing traveling clothes, were there as well. A strikingly beautiful blonde sat on the sofa, chatting softly with Lady Hester, and behind her, stood a gentleman of Sir William's age.

"Stella, may I introduce to you my old friend, Mr. Richard Fenwick, and his sister, Miss Anabelle Fenwick. Miss Stella de Lara, my fiancée," he turned to them as the gentleman bowed to me, and the woman stood up and curtsied.

Sir William's siblings seemed closely familiar with their guests, and it was not before long that Samuel's attention was fully captured by the beautiful Anabelle, while her own brother directed his eyes, fully, to Vanessa. But Sir William was only looking at me, and even when we could not converse, I felt on me his steady, loving, gentle gaze.

That night, after supper, we gathered in the drawing room. It turned out that the Fenwicks were only to stay with us for two days and were then, after William was gone back to London, to follow through to their own estate, about fifteen miles north of Bloomfield. I did not mind it much, for I immediately noticed that while Samuel could barely take his eyes off Miss Fenwick, her own were most often directed at his brother. Vanessa, whom I discreetly asked about that very night, confirmed my suspicions.

"Anabelle has been after Will forever," she said. Noticing my discomfort, she smiled bemusedly and squeezed my hand lightly. "But Stella, it does not signify. If he'd wanted her, he would have married her ages ago."

She was right, of course: it did not signify. Particularly because Sir William, a most attentive suitor, was constantly at my side and never--not for a second--allowed me to forget how much he loved me.

...

It was the night after the Fenwicks departed that I witnessed a most uncomely argument between Sir William and his brother. What had started as a relatively genial family discussion of the impending coming-out season ended with Samuel rushing out and taking off on horseback and Sir William retiring early, having barely wished anyone good night.

Sir William and I had come back from walking around the park; sitting on the same large boulder in a timid embrace, we had exchanged furtive kisses until neither of us could bear it any longer, and we escaped back to civilization.

At supper, Lady Hester said:

"William, dearest, I think that we should be preparing for Alexandra's coming-out this fall. Vanessa, pass me the green beans, please. "

Alexandra hurriedly swallowed the food she had in her mouth and crumpled her napkin in agitation.

"Madam, I should say not. In my opinion, it is too early," Sir William replied.

"But I am already fifteen, Willie!" Alexandra cried.

"You are yet fifteen," Vanessa corrected her softly.

"Well, you are out, there is no reason why I should not be!"

"I have been out for a year, Ali, since I was eighteen. Will's right, you are too young."

"Well, it won't be up to you!" Alexandra sneered at her sister. Vanessa shrugged her shoulders melancholically and busied herself with the food on her plate.

"No," Sir William said. "It won't be. But it will be up to me, and I say that you---are---too---young."

"William, I really do not see what is so wrong with taking Ali out a year or two earlier."

"There's plenty wrong with it, madam. Stella, dearest, more wine?"

I refused politely, and he went on. "Alexandra's education is utterly unfinished. Tell me, Ali, where is, um, Smyrna located?"

Alexandra huffed. "Sweden," she said.

"Indeed," Sir William smirked. "She is ready!"

"Do not make a spectacle of me, Will!" Alexandra said, hurt.

"Forgive me, my dear," he said, gently, "but I am simply trying to illustrate to our Mother why it is I think you are unready to be out. You are yet a child---unfinished, in many senses. And I would like you to be a little more mature before you enter the world."

"Anabelle Fenwick was out at sixteen!" Alexandra said. Sir William put his silverware down with a loud sound, startling Lady Hester.

"This is precisely the reason why I do not think you ready!" he cried. "The fact that you look to Miss Fenwick as a model, Ali, is enough to convince me to keep you in for the next two years."
Samuel, who had thereto been very quiet, raised his eyes at his brother.

"What is wrong with holding Miss Fenwick for an etalon?" he asked, sounding offended.
Sir William said nothing, lowering his eyes and furiously cutting the meat on his plate.

"William, when you say things like that, I would have you answer for them!" Samuel said hotly.

Or at least to explain what it is you meant."

"I shall not discuss a lady behind her back," Sir William said dryly.

"Samuel, please," Lady Hester pleaded, but Samuel would have his answer.

"No!" he said, throwing down his napkin. "You are being a coward, Will! You say damaging things about a fine young lady, and then you refuse to explain them!"

William laughed, hoarsely. "I am being a coward; well, brother, you are being a fool. I am simply trying to spare you the anguish of hearing what I think of Miss Fenwick, since I've noticed you take a liking to her."

"Pray, tell, what do you think of Miss Fenwick?" Samuel postured, leaning back, arms crossed.

"I shall put it this way: she is an example of a most egregious mismanagement of a promising young lady through indulgence and immoderation."

"You are speaking of your best friend's sister! Have you no shame?"

"Young man," Sir William said, curtly, folding his own napkin. "Richard Fenwick is my dearest friend. But not for anything in the world should I wish my sisters to turn out anything like Anabelle. You have asked me for an answer, Sam, why aren't you satisfied? I think Miss Fenwick to be the meanest, daftest, most wanton woman of my acquaintance. In fact," he added, "I am quite stunned that you do take a liking to her."

Samuel leapt to his feet, furious.

"If only you weren't my brother!" he cried. "I should fight you in a duel!"

"I should never fight you," Sir William said calmly. "I do not want you dead."

I saw Vanessa roll her eyes; Alexandra, on the other hand, was becoming more and more pale and her lips were trembling---she was evidently pained.

"Oh, hush the two of you!" Lady Hester cried, angrily. "I cannot bear it when you fight!"

"Mother, do be fair," Sir William said coldly. "I had no desire whatsoever to get into this rather distasteful discussion. Samuel pried it out of me."

"You know, Will, you are---you are not the father, nor the master of me!" Samuel cried.

"No," Sir William agreed, calmly raising his eyes at his younger brother. "I never imagine, nor do I wish to be your father, Samuel. You are of age, a grown, independent man. It is then particularly unfit for you to make yourself a focus of a discussion which, until you so rudely interrupted it with your inquiry, concerned only Alexandra's coming-out."

"You have picked the one you love!" Samuel blew up. " In spite of everyone, to the disadvantage of us all! You have gone with the selfish desires of your heart! And we have all acquiesced---and yet you have the nerve to tell me who deserves to be loved!"

Sir William was now at his feet as well; throwing down his napkin, he leaned over the table---and I, with a strange pleasure, noticed that he was substantially taller than Samuel, and broader in the shoulders---and said rather menacingly:

"Take care before you say another word, brother."

Samuel, furious, ran out of the room; a minute later, we all heard the mad hooves of his horse.
Lady Hester, visibly upset, asked her eldest son: "Must you be so unyielding, William?"

"Mother, he practically begged me to say all that! And you would do extremely well not to encourage his attachment to Anabelle Fenwick!"

"Only because you happen to dislike her-"Alexandra started and immediately fell victim to a cruel elbow jab from her older sister and a withering glance from Sir William.

"Alexandra is right, William." Lady Hester uttered disapprovingly, "Perhaps it is your own prejudice against Miss Fenwick that causes you to speak so low of her!"

"How I happen to feel about Miss Fenwick does not signify," he said gloomily, after a long pause. "But it should pain me greatly---and I daresay it would pain my father as well---if Samuel fell prey to a woman like her."

With that, and no apology, he took his leave of us, and retired upstairs. I was beside myself---the thought that I might have contributed to a rift between the brothers mortified me, and even more was I ashamed to have caused Sir William any grief. Vanessa, having found me on the steps outside, attempted to reassure me: sitting down next to me. "William is a really good brother to all of us, Stella, but sometimes he does forget that he is only that---only a brother. Not a father---though a guardian to me and Alexandra."

"Your father appointed him your guardian? And your mother?"

"Our father was a wise man, Stella," Vanessa chuckled softly. "He knew that our mother would be a wreck after his death."

"And William?"

"Oh, Stella!" Vanessa laughed. "Until you, I had not seen him as much as nonplussed!"

"And Miss Fenwick?"

"What about her?"

"Sir William was so---so distressed over her!"

"Over Samuel's attachment to her. If my mother paid a slightest attention to anything beyond her own grief, she, too, would be distressed, nay, dismayed over it! If he marries her, he is sure to be the most miserable man in all of England!"

"Does William know-"

"Know what? That she fancies him?"

I nodded silently.

"Perhaps. I do not know. But Stella! Do you not see how much in love he is with you? But of course you don't! You have never known him to be otherwise! What Sam said about him is true---there had not been a lady before you. If I know my brother at all, Stella, you are his first love."

"Thank you so much, Vanessa," I whispered. I rose to go inside, but Vanessa remained, musing, on the steps. "I shall stay here for a bit," she said. "Have a good night, dear."

Before going inside, I turned to Vanessa, and asked: "What Samuel said about William's choice of me-"

Vanessa shook her head quickly. "He did not mean that, Stella. He likes you exceedingly---he told me that himself. He is just a little worried."

"Worried?"

"Can I be frank with you?"

"By all means, of course." I said, my heart sinking.

"Samuel is anxious that our---that his marriage prospects should suffer because William has chosen to marry you."

"His marriage prospects to Anabelle Fenwick?"

"Yes. He covets her most impurely, Stella. My poor brother, she will break is heart."

"Do you think it true?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged her shoulders. "Though I should hope not. Richard Fenwick gives an impression of being a most sensible and liberal man. In any case," Vanessa said, "for Samuel's sake, I do hope that she rejects him."

"What about your and Ali's prospects?"

"Ali's prospects are too far in the future to tell," Vanessa said earnestly. "She has another five or six years to go before she is to be married."

"And you?"

"My prospects!" she smiled bitterly, "All I have ever wanted was to sing. If William denies it to me, I should rather die a spinster than marry someone I do not care for, only to ease his conscience."

Vanessa fell silent, and then said, resolutely: "In any case, Stella, it is your and William's life. I cannot imagine asking him to sacrifice the one he loves to better my and Samuel's marriage prospects. You have a right to this love, dear."

The next morning, Sir William went back to London; before he left, he held my face in his hands and gave me a gentle kiss.

"Forgive me for what happened last night," he murmured, leaning his forehead against mine. "I never wanted you to witness any of it."

"If I am to be the part of this family, then I need to see the worst as well as the best of it." I replied. "You do not imagine that my family is at all different, do you?"

With another kiss, we parted; it was agreed that as Richard Fenwick was to give me away, I should follow the Fenwicks to their estate of Hereford two days before the wedding. Vanessa was to come with me as my bridesmaid, and that eased the pain of having to spend time in Anabelle Fenwick's company. Then, we were to be married. Neither of us could wait for this; neither of us could hope for it enough, or desire it enough.

William

"Argh!"

With a shudder and a gasp, William sat up in bed. Breathing heavily, he thanked his lucky stars that the nightmare he had just had was only that--a nightmare. He had dreamt that Stella's family appeared at the wedding and snatched his bride away.

He threw a panicked glance at the grandfather's clock in the corner, afraid that he had overslept. The clock registered that it was all of eight in the morning; William sighed with relief and fell back on the pillows.

It would not do to fall asleep again, he thought, and sat back up. After all, the wedding was in two hours and he needed to get ready. William rang for his valet and ordered a bath for himself; he then sent the valet to wake up Samuel, who was to be his best man.

Stella Rosa had spent the previous three days with the Fenwicks. He knew that she did not want to go---for Anabelle was only short of uncivil to her---but if Richard were to give her away, it would be a proper thing to do.

Having taken his bath and dressed, he came down to breakfast, where his mother, Samuel and Alexandra already waited for him; Vanessa was with Stella at the Fenwicks', as she was to be her bridesmaid.

"Good morning," William grumbled, sitting down in his usual chair at the head of the table. "I trust everyone's been well."

They ate their breakfast in silence; William knew how sorely his mother disapproved of the match, and how cross Samuel had been with him after their recent fight over Anabelle. He told himself, however, that today, of all days, he should not occupy himself with the others' concerns: if it pleased Lady Hetty and Sam to be sour to him on his wedding day, he could do nothing about it.

The only person at the breakfast table who seemed genuinely pleased with the situation was Alexandra. After they had finished eating, she held William back by his sleeve and said, sheepishly:

"Willy, dearest, I just wanted to wish you the very best of luck and happiness. She is wonderful, simply wonderful."

William picked his sister up and squeezed her tightly in his arms. "Thank you, darling Ali," he whispered, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

And so they were off to church. In the carriage, the family kept its dead silence, and William was beginning to regret that stupid argument with Samuel three days ago; but, he told himself, it would have to do, for today is the happiest day of his life.

She was reasonably late for church, as young ladies are wont to. But when they finally lined up and waited for her to come down the aisle on Dick Fenwick's arm, William's heart beat wildly: for she was so exceedingly beautiful in the veil that he had brought her from London and a white dress! After Fenwick's booming voice told the vicar that he was giving this woman away, she came to stand near William, and they knelt together.

Then the question, which William dreaded most, came:

"If there is anybody," the vicar pronounced, "who knows of any reason why this marriage should not take place, speak now or forever hold your peace."

The church was eerily quiet; William half-expected a voice or two to pipe up from the back pew, announcing to the world that they were eloped and trying to get married against her parents' will. But the quiet persisted; nobody raised a voice, and the vicar seemed satisfied.

"Well, then," he said. "Shall we continue?"

They listened to the parson's pronouncements on the three purposes of marriage; William agreed wholeheartedly with everything that the clergyman said. Indeed, marriage was the salvation for his soul, as well as his body. His mind has always been superior to his flesh; but lately, with Stella, he was beginning to lose all control over himself. Her kiss was sweet poison to him, meant to take away his sanity; her arms around his neck felt like silk snares. Their passion had to be legitimized, or, surely as the day was bright, they were going to fall.

But it was more than that; for there was no other person in the world in whose company he felt as suffused with happiness. She brought him so much joy! Sometimes it actually seemed to William that when entering the room, Stella Rosa brought with her a kind of happy glow. That he should love her was the most natural thing---for, as Henry de Lara said, who could feel anything else for his fiery Stella Rosa? That she should love him back was most unexpected, delightful and wonderful. Indeed, he said to himself, we are a couple meant for happiness.

All through the ceremony, Stella Rosa was looking in front of herself. Not once did he turn to him---not until it was his time to say the vow---and even then she kept looking straight ahead, her gaze focused, strangely, on his lapel. He could guess what she was thinking---to her, this ceremony must have had little meaning. But then he heard the parson ask him the most important question, and his heart brimmed with tremulous happiness.

"William, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife--"

A wife. He is now to have a wife. A companion to rely on, a lover to cherish, a helper along life's most difficult roads. His father, prior to his death, had asked him---begged him---to marry soon and marry happy. William wondered whether Sir Isaiah would have approved of his marriage; whether he would have given him his blessing; or whether he, like Stella, would have been cast out and dispossessed.

"---to have and to hold, at bed and at board---"

Oh how he longed for her; these weeks, when she was almost his in all but name, it took him an prodigious amount of self-discipline to curtail his emotions, desires and yearnings. But tonight---tonight it was all to happen---William chased the carnal thoughts away; for it was not the place for them, nor the time.

"---for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health---"

That they should be rich, he had no doubts; with prudent management, they would soon be able to double and triple his estate. But health---William thought of his father, of his torturous last months, of how it ruined his mother, slowly, day by day---

"---until death do you part?"

"I do," he said, firmly.

The parson asked Stella the same question, and it pleased William to no end to see the jubilant smile on her face as she acquiesced.

William, took the ring, proffered to him by Samuel---a simple golden band with their initials carved on the inside---and slid it on her finger, saying:

"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Her smile warmed his heart, as they continued to hold hands.

"What the Lord has joined together," announced the parson, "let no-one put asunder. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, sir William."

Forgetting all propriety---after all, the only ones in the church were his relations---William gathered Stella in his arms and kissed her most passionately on the lips.

It was done. They were now married.

The Fenwicks hosted a small wedding breakfast for them at Richard's estate; the only people there were his family, their cousins, the London Hesters---Uncle Lazarus, Aunt Anne, and their cousins, Captain Alec and the young Cedric, the Fenwicks themselves and the parson with his wife. Nobody questioned the absence of relations on the part of the new Lady Hester; Stella herself did not seem to mind. At any rate, William hoped that the happiness of being married to him compensated, if only in the smallest degree, for the loss of her family.

They were soon off to their honeymoon, having borrowed one of Fenwick's coaches. It was only a week in Bath, with theater and mineral waters, after which they were to be back to Bloomfield Park. Lady Hetty informed William that by the time they were to come back, she would be gone from Bloomfield; he invited her to stay, but all she wanted was to be in London, near her sister.

"I would like you to leave the girls at Bloomfield," William had asked her, and to his surprise, she agreed. Samuel would stay as well, while searching for a proper home for himself somewhere near Bloomfield and the Fenwicks.

As their carriage pulled away, Lady Hetty waved and Vanessa and Ali showered it with rice and flower petals. Samuel, standing next to the beautiful, but insufferable Anabelle, smiled and waved his hand; William's heart gave way, and he leaned out of the carriage window, pulling his brother into a close embrace.

"Forgive me, Sam," he said softly, and his brother slapped his back genially.

"Congratulations, brother," he said.

The carriage took off; William leaned back and looked at his wife, who had by now removed her bonnet and veil and was all the lovelier with fresh flowers in her dark hair.

His married life has now begun.

Stella Rosa

"Marry in May and rue the day," Anabelle Fenwick said to me on the morning of my wedding. I was all nerves, worried that my family may choose this particular day to separate me from Sir William. I did not need Miss Fenwick with her piece of folk wisdom buzzing around; in fact, as much as I liked her genteel, friendly, amiable brother, I was beginning to outright hate her.

"Miss Anabelle," Vanessa said through the numerous pins she held between her teeth. "do not frighten the bride! It is but an old wives' tale!"

"I am not frightened," I said, coldly. "These superstitions mean nothing to me. We Hebrews do not have Mays, or Aprils, or Decembers, for that matter. We have Adars and Nisans---and you can chose any month to marry."

Vanessa smiled. She had been putting wax flower and orange blossoms in my hair all morning, and in general, proved herself to be most useful and supportive.

"Almost done," she whispered, affixing a particular pretty flower just above my left ear. "Will should adore this..."

As regards my family, I had mixed feelings: on the one hand, I was thrilled that they had made no attempt to interfere with my marriage plans; on the other hand, I was prodigiously disappointed. It seemed like Enrique had told Sir William the truth: perhaps they really did forget all about me.

"Oh, Stella," Vanessa said as I was about to step out, "Ali asked to give you these," and she handed me a box. I opened eagerly. Inside, there was a pair of lovely wedding slippers---decorated with silk ribbons, wax flowers and jasmine. "She would like you to wear them as she made them herself."

And so I did, gladly.

Ani l'dodi ve dodi li. I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine. In church, I peered through the heavy drapes, to see Sir William stand next to the vicar and Samuel. My heart rejoiced at seeing him; my pride swelled because he was the most handsome man I had ever met. As Mr. Fenwick walked me down the aisle, I saw the emotion in Sir William's eyes. This man--oh, this man! How much have we already sacrificed for each other, how much shall we still have to sacrifice? For better, for worse, we were now forever bound to each other with the strongest bonds of love, affection, trust and responsibility--already a beloved and a friend, William was now to become my home, my family, my master.

I came to stand next to him. He cast a quick glance at me and turned to back to the vicar. He was more serious than ever, if only that was possible, looking earnestly, and speaking earnestly, and as he slid the ring down my finger, his hand trembled. The words that he said meant nothing to me; it was the prodigious amount of love, which I could read in his beautiful eyes, and his sweet candor, that touched my heart. I remembered Vanessa's words: "If I at all know my brother, Stella, you are his first love." When the vicar allowed him to kiss me, our embrace was passionate, and there was possessiveness and power in his kiss.

Holding hands, we walked past William's family, who were all smiling--and Alexandra was positively beaming!--and stepped outside. It was a bright, May morning, and our new life has just begun.

...Happy as I was, I had to wonder about the wedding night. Perhaps I was not as ignorant as most gentile girls my age: the subject of babies and pregnancies was common in my family, and neither Elena nor I were usually shunned. However, my understanding of the process was still rudimentary: it remained somewhere between the beautiful poetry of King Solomon's Shir ha-Shirim and the long, lusty looks that I caught, sometimes, between Enrique and Viola. I knew that there was something to be done; something to be endured; a duty and homage to be paid to the man who was now my husband. But however frightening that might seem, I loved Sir William so much that I placed my trust, my body, my soul in his hands willingly and with a glad heart.

In the carriage, the tension mounted. We threw longing stares at each other, and he rubbed my fingers, gently, in his. The subject of the first night must be broached, but I could not be the first to mention it. Luckily, he finally found the courage and inquired of me, suddenly stumbling over words, what exactly I knew or expected of the night to come.

I told him that I had a duty to him as my husband.

"I do detest that word," he said, wrinkling his nose. "I, myself, have never thought about it this way. Duty, indeed. Poems are written and whole countries are taken in the name of duty!" He sneered almost derisively.

"William!" I cried. "Poems are written in the name of love!"

He laughed. "What do you think I am talking about?"

"Well, I should not know that, having never been married!" I was suddenly very hot.

"Aw, Stella, you are such a child," he whispered, caressing me with his eyes. "There is more to love about love than moon-lit rendezvous, my darling. But I think we should rather change the subject."

"Why? What would you rather talk about?"

"Books. Politics. Anything but that."

I was indignant.

"Books, on the day of our wedding! Politics! William, it is most un-romantic! I am still basking in the sanctified glow of our marriage, and you propose to talk about books!"

"Well, what would you rather talk about?"

"To-night," I said, fighting an urge to turn very red and cover my face with my veil again.

"We still have a long ride in front of us, Stella. This is a most inopportune conversation on such a hot spring day," he said. "I am afraid that if we get too much into discussing tonight, there may--there may be no to-night. "

I was taken aback by the hoarseness in his voice; with one rough movement, he pulled loose his cravat and drew his hands over his face.

"Very well," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off my face and neck. "What would you like to know?"

"You disagreed with the use of the term of "duty," I said. "Is it to say that you have a different conception of what is to transpire tonight?"

"I must first confess something to you," he said. With a look of deep embarrassment, he went on. "My experience in these matters is rather limited--nay, what am I about. I am as inexperienced as you are. Any connections I've ever made in life have only been of the most genuine sort. I have not been of habit of forming relationships for the sake of anything rather than the greatest degree of attachment to the person itself. Such have been my friendships, and only such would be my more--tender--engagements. Being with someone solely for the sake of the flesh--I could not do that. And," he added in the most earnest fashion, "before meeting you, I had not been in love."

He was so dear to me at that moment, I should have kissed him had I been less shy. William seemed to apologize for the very thing which I wanted most--that I was to be his first and only love, just like he was to be mine. But listening to him mutter and mumble, watching him, red in the face and viciously embarrassed, was exceedingly pleasurable to me, and I decided to prolong his torture.

"So what you are saying," I said, "is that you really have no real basis, on which to form an opinion of what is to transpire to night. Isn't it so?"

He swallowed. Hard.

"Not exactly," he said. "I have--the general--idea. I also--in my anticipation of our marriage, I have purchased and read a book on the subject--"

"A book?" I asked, leaning back. "What kind of book, pray tell, my dear husband?"

"A most interesting one," he smiled. He was now coming along, a little less embarrassed.

"And you have it with you?"

"I do--it is among our things in the back."

"Can you--can you show it to me?"

"I should not dare."

"Why not? Am I not a married lady now?"

"Not in the full sense of this word. Now, after tonight--"

"--after tonight?"

"--yes, after tonight, you should be fit to see it."

"Most unfair!" I cried, laughing. "You have just confessed to me that you, yourself, are not a married gentleman in the true sense of this word! And yet you have read it! And won't show it to me! How am I to know, then, what is to transpire? You must tell me, then, what you have read in it!"

He colored deeply and gave me a sheepish smile. "I cannot give you the particulars!" he said.
"I am not asking for the particulars!" I answered. "All I want to know--" I stumbled. "There was no-one I could ask before the wedding, but from what I had briefly heard, it is most commonly rather disagreeable to the woman."

"Oh!" He cried, dismayed. "Fine sources of information you have had, Stella! "A duty, and a disagreeable one at that! You should be mortified of tonight!"

He gave me a look, considered something, and then said.

"And yet you are not. So perhaps you have had other sources of information as well-"

"Perhaps I have," I smiled and hastened to reassure him. "But only the most proper ones!"

And, leaning forward, I whispered to him verses from Shir ha-Shirim:

"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth--for his love is better than wine. His ointments have a goodly fragrance; his name is as ointment poured forth; therefore do the maidens love him."

With a bolder hand, I caressed the outline of his face, prompting him to press his lips to the inside of my palm.

"How can these words possibly be written about something disagreeable?" I whispered to him. He laughed and raised his eyes to the sky:

"Oh the joy and torture of having a reading woman for a wife!"

We laughed, leaning our heads together. All of a sudden, a rough turn shook the carriage and practically threw me into William's embrace. He gathered me comfortably and set me down on his lap, his arms locked tightly around me.

"Now I have you," he said, looking intensely into my eyes, 'And I shall not let you go."

He placed a kiss on my lips, and I responded, with all the heat of the Shulamit responding to Solomon; his became bolder, his grip on me tightened, and for what seemed like an eternity, we were locked a most passionate embrace. Our lips sought greedily those of the other; our hands were beginning to rove most impurely. My head was spinning and I could barely think straight. Suddenly, urgently, William pulled away from me, casting my arms from around his neck.

"What is wrong, William?" I asked, for a second, I was gripped with anxiety that my caresses were somehow abhorrent to him, that perhaps, I had been so forward.

"'Tis too much," he said, shaking his head. "Another minute, and I shan't be able to control myself any longer."

Timidly, I expressed to him that perhaps, it did not signify, since we were already married.

"No, Stella," he whispered, hotly. "Please. It has to be proper. It cannot happen like this, not in a carriage--it cannot be some sort of a distasteful tryst! I am only a fallible man, Stella," he added into my hair. "And you are the greatest temptation I have ever faced. Please," he said. "It has to be special."

I honored his request and moved to the opposite end of the carriage. After our faces cooled off, we renewed our conversation.

"You never did explain to me what your conception of a wifely duty was," I said.

"Wifely?" he raised his eyebrows. "I have always thought that it was just as much of a husbandly duty as wifely duty--and when I say that, I mean "duty" to love the other with all the forces of one's soul and body!"

"How lovely," I said, smiling, "to know that it is a mutual covenant. How pleasant. It means that there is something in it for me, as well."

"Oh, Stella," he said in a most emotional voice. "Stella, Stella! I should do my absolute best to ensure that there is everything in it for you!"

"You shan't hurt me, then?"

"Hurt you?"

"Well, you know what they say. It has to be exceedingly painful, the first time around."

"Exceedingly painful! Who told you that?"

"It is just a most common conception. And then my older sister has said something to the effect."

"Well, perhaps," he agreed, "as I cannot counterpose any actual experience, but--the book--"

"The book!"

"Yes, the now-proverbial book. The book says that if the husband is gentle and, um, dedicated enough, there will be very little pain, if any, and it will be brief."

"And shall you be gentle with me?" I inquired of him, though I already knew the answer. Across the carriage, he reached for my hand and held it to his lips.

"You may depend on it," he said earnestly.

"Well," I smiled, "you have certainly lessened my fears. I can speak about politics now."

"Yes, let us," he replied. "Let us find the most un-romantic subject available--if we are ever to make it to our inn."

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.

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