Stella Rosa

Part VI

The morning after our return to Bloomfield Park, there was a knock on my dressing-room door as I sat at my toilette.

"Stella?" I heard my husband's voice. I told him to come in and he soon loomed behind me in the mirror, handsome as ever.

"Good morning," he said, leaning and nuzzling my neck. "Have you slept well?"

"I would have slept better if I had your arms wrapped around me," I replied, looking up at him. He laughed and gave me a most teasing kiss.

"I thought it better to leave you be after such an arduous journey."

"Well, think better next time," I smiled. "Your company could never be a burden to me, William."

He slowly knelt in front of my chair. "I should take a note of that," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me. It was then that I noticed that he was holding a letter.

"Is this for me?" I asked with trepidation.

"What?" He seemed dazed. "Oh, that. Forgive me, dearest, it is for you. I become an imbecile in your presence. It came with the post while we were on the holiday. "

"This is from Elena!" Great was my agitation as I tore at the seal, having recognized that of my father's house.

"I shall leave you to read it," he rose and quitted the room. I was so captivated that I paid him no mind.

The letter was from Elena. I had written to her soon after coming to Bloomfield, and then, one more time, right before the wedding. I had been anxiously awaiting an answer from her, and now, finally, it was come.

"Kerida Stella Rosa," my sister wrote. I nearly wept: though William made a conscious effort to preserve my full name, I knew that it would soon be irretrievably lost, as I became Lady Stella Hester. "Forgive me for not replying to you straight away, my dearest, but this is the first time an opportunity has presented itself, as Father is away on a business trip. He has been very cross with me after you left---had it not been for the protection afforded to me by the da Silvas, he might turn me away. But let me tell everything in good order.

After you left, Marcus d'Almazan came to our house, furious. He abused us all most abominably and would have laid his hands on Father, but Beni and Enrique threw him out of the house---in the full view of the juderia, to the laughter of the street children. There is really no one now who doubts that he is the most dreadful boor, so that should give you some comfort.

Unfortunately, dear sister, this is where the good news ends---the situation in our house has been at best very disheartening in the past month. Father has announced that you are dead and has sat in mourning for you, every day since your escape. He and Beni sat shiva for you---but Enrique has refused and has not been to our house since. Father rent his clothes and still walks barefoot at home---and all the mirrors in our house are covered. This is the first time Father has left the house since your elopement. It is really quite distressing. Forgive me for giving you pain, but I know that dishonesty would pain you more.

Beni and Enrique had a falling out over the new shul that is to be built in the West End. Twenty young men from the juderia and the German quarter have agreed to found some new religious society--a very liberal one at that. Enrique is with them, as well as my Pedro (which greatly grieves his father the haham). They say that they want Jews to concentrate on becoming full-fledged members of the British society, and they are said to look with kind eye towards marriage with gentiles. Beni is, of course, very displeased with Enrique, and has gone so far as to say that he will not speak to him until he abandons this "dangerous nonsense." But it seems to me that maybe, they are right about it ... Beni, on his part, has been talking much about moving to Palestine---it should not surprise me if this event happened before the end of the year...

Our mother is reasonably well, though Father has been rather furious with her, and for a few days, she even took to her bed. But she is all better now; I know that she holds no bitterness towards you. I am certain that she would have written you if she could.

Dear Stella Rosa, my kiddushin is to take place on July 1. I shall be glad enough to quit Father's house, for it has been a dale of tears since you were gone. But it will pain me greatly to know that you are not there. I do miss you dreadfully, my dear. Since you were gone, there is hardly anyone to speak with at home---Mother is, well, Mother, Rivkah barely says a word, Margarita is as mean as ever---not even her approaching confinement has made her any kinder---and Viola has not been to our house in two weeks because Enrique will not let her. And you know, she has never been much for intelligent conversation to start with...

I surmise that you are married by now. I should have liked it well to be there for you. I wish you and Sir William all the joy in the world. May Abastad smile at you and your besher't from above. Pray for me, too, dear sister, and write to me. After I am married to Pedro, I should prove to be a better correspondent. I remain your loving sister, Elena de Lara."

I put down the letter and cried, bitterly. It contained no surprise for me---though it did cause me pain to know that my father preferred to think me dead rather than married against his will. But it was a natural turn of events---having so egregiously disobeyed my father's orders, could I indeed expect anything other than the total estrangement from my family? What really grieved me was that I was a source of pain for all of them, particularly for my mother and Elena.

Having cried my fill, I walked around the house, searching for my husband. I finally found him in his study, hunched over a writing desk.

"Stella!" he turned around as I approached, catching me in his arms.

"What are you writing?" I sniffled, most pathetically.

"Simply business correspondence," he said. "But you are crying. What---what has your sister written to you?"

Saying nothing, I gave him the letter.

"You wish me to read it?" he asked, unsure.

"I cannot tell you what's in it," I said, dabbing my eyes with a handkerchief. "I should rather you read it. As it is, I have no secrets from you."

"Very well," he said, unfolding the letter. As he read it, a shadow ran across his handsome brow; he finally folded the letter, and sat there, looking extremely confounded.

"I do not know what to say to you, dearest," he whispered, looking gently into my face. "This was to be expected, Stella."

"Expected!" I cried. "I certainly expected censure on the part of my family---but that my own father should hold me dead, should read Kaddish for me! Never, William!"

He took my hands in his, gently: "Stella," he urged me, "I do not know how I should behave if one of my sisters disregarded my will as regards her marriage!"

That he tried to find a kindly excuse for my family touched me greatly; for in my bitterness, I could barely find it in my heart to do the same for them.

That night, I wrote Elena an answer.

"Mi kerida hermanica," I wrote. "You cannot possibly imagine how much joy and sadness your letter gave me. Joy, because it is a first voice from home and because it gave me news of you. Sadness, because it tears my heart to think that my family has buried me alive. But as I made my bed, so I shall lie in it; I have made my choice and, given another opportunity, would do the same again.

Dearest Elena, do not think me heartless: it pains me exceedingly to have grieved my family. But only now have I understood: all this time, I have been in love with Sir William and, if I were to be separated from him, my life would be misery alone. I wish you to be as much in love with Pedro as I am with my husband---and his love for me alone is worth anything in the world---even, forgive me, the loss of my family.

We were, indeed, married, though not according to our custom. I suppose then, that in the eyes of the juderia, I am still living in sin. I do hope that you do not condemn me, sister; for in the eyes of the rest of the world, our marriage is legitimate and solid. I love him so very much, Elena---a day away from him is like a dagger in my heart.

Mi hermanica, on our honeymoon in Bath, we met a Mr. and Mrs. Duran, a delightful couple, who claimed to be friends with your Pedro. They were not much for news, but they did agree to take a wedding gift from us to Pedro's house. William and I chose it together; I hope it is to your liking.

I think I shall tell you a little bit about my husband---as if you and I were in our childhood bedroom, chatting before going to bed. He is a kind man; there is none I have met who would deny it. As his father had been ill for a long time before his death, William took all the family affairs upon him and has managed them splendidly ever since. His mother and siblings depend on him alone, and he dotes on them: he is a kind and caring brother, son, friend, master, landlord and, of course, husband. At the same time, he has a sharp mind and a natural flair for administration, which have made him so successful in managing his father's---and now his own---estate. He is also naturally modest and sweet of disposition; strong and passionate---and all other manner of good things of which I cannot speak with you yet, since you are not yet married. I love him dearly: his regard means everything to me.

His family have treated me kindly, though some more so than others. Lady Hetty, his mother, has been polite but distant, as I understand she disapproves of our union. I cannot blame her: her son stood to make matches far more advantageous than the one he has ultimately made. I may only hope that with time, she will warm up to me.

William's sisters, whom you have met briefly, are delightful girls. Vanessa, the elder, is really quite bright and sings beautifully; she has been my companion, since I have lost you. She has a sharp mind and tongue; she can make a loyal friend, but I should not want to become her enemy. Alexandra, the youngest child in the family, is coddled but kind, pleasant and sweet, but somewhat unformed and uneducated. Their brother Samuel, four years my husband's junior, I cannot speak for---I have not had a chance to learn his character well enough. Like his brother, he seems bright, but also---willful and difficult. He has been unwaveringly friendly to me, but I suspect that in the future, his attitudes are to be governed by the woman we all think he should soon marry---a rather unpleasant sort, Miss Anabelle Fenwick. She alone deserves a separate letter.

Elena, marriage is a delightful thing, if you love your spouse. I do wish I could be near you at the time of your kiddushin, but you may rest assured that my thoughts, prayers, and the very best wishes will be with you. I think there is no need to say it again, but I shall nonetheless: you and your husband are welcome at Bloomfield Park any time. William esteems you greatly and regrets any pain that our elopement may have caused you (particularly, and the rest of our family generally).

I shall send this letter to Mr. Da Silva's house, as I should not wish it to fall into Margarita's hands. I forever remain your loving sister, etc, etc."

I sent the letter that same day. All through that evening---my first full evening as a Mistress of Bloomfield Park---I remained pensive and a poor companion for my husband.

*************

During the first few weeks of my marriage, it was exceedingly difficult for me to adhere to the customs and traditions of my people. Though William made an honest attempt to help me---for instance, Mrs. Livesay was given express instructions to exclude pork almost entirely---we were often invited to supper at our various neighbors', and then, I should have to eat whatever was served. Pork was, of course, the biggest problem, as it was accompanied by such a hefty portion of guilt that it made me ill almost physically. There were other dietary problems as well, as the peculiar combination of milk and meat, as in a beef stroganoff, though somewhat familiar to me from our stay at Brighton, also proved most disagreeable to my stomach and conscience. I, however, tried my best not to embarrass William in front of our neighbors.

Food was not the only problem. Being active on Shabbat and idle on Alhat* was a new thing and took some getting used to. William was liberal with me, as he allowed me to light candles every Friday night---and indeed, he seemed to quite like watching me do it. At first, I felt somewhat self-conscious to have the entire family watch me as I stood there, with my hands over my face, but then, it dawned on me, that I was now the Mistress of this house, and if anyone was to light the Shabbat candles at Bloomfield Park, I must do it. Taking my hands away from my face, I caught my husband's eyes and was shocked and touched at how much love shone in them.

It was still during our engagement that William had ordered a mezuzah from a Whitechapel shop. I was thrilled, and soon after our marriage, had it affixed to the doorpost of our bedroom; Samuel, to William's consternation, noticed that he could not perceive how such a small amulet, fashioned of glass and metal, could protect anyone from anything.

"It has the writings of the Torah inside of it," I explained to him, trying my best to be patient with his ignorance. When he rolled his eyes, rather disrespectfully, I saw William stiffen. Rising, he demanded that Samuel join him in his study. Samuel followed him, reluctantly, even as Vanessa, smirking, drew her hand sideways across her throat. The audience must have been rather unpleasant, because Samuel soon stormed out of the house and did not come back until much later. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, I tried telling William that in no way did I want to be a reason for disagreement between him and his brother.

"Stella," he said rather roughly, "You are my wife and the Mistress of this estate. My brother should better accustom himself to treating you with utmost respect."

My first disagreement with my husband over my customs came two weeks after we were married. I had started my menses and, as the custom of my people was, was wont to remove myself from my husband's presence. It had been an absolute custom among my people that a menstruating woman was unclean; she could not share her husband's bed or he, too, became contaminated. William, however, was shocked to hear of it.

"You wish me to quit your bed for the next ten days?" he inquired of me. I had come to speak with him in his study, and he stared at me quizzically, as I had torn him away from some estate business.

I explained to him all about our customs in this area. He seemed dumbfounded.

"I should not press my rights tonight," he agreed, "but why can't we sleep in the same bed?"

"Because it will make you unclean."

To my utter consternation, he burst out laughing. "By whose estimation?" he cried out. "Forgive me, dearest, but I was not brought up in your faith, and I do not see the need to remove myself to the opposite wing of the house every time this time of the month comes!"

I was deeply insulted. "You make light of my religion, sir!" I cried.

"No," he argued, "I do not. You cannot say that I have not made an honest effort to make you comfortable in this respect---but this I protest, absolutely."

"Very well, then," I said, furious. "I shall quit my own bed tonight, sir."

"Oh, well, if this is how far this goes---" he shrugged his shoulders. "I shan't bother you tonight, however ridiculous this seems to me."

With this, he turned back to his papers, and I quitted his office, more angry at myself than at him. He was true to his word; that night, I slept alone---for the first time since we have come to Bloomfield. Or, to be exact, attempted to sleep, tossing and turning all night long. At breakfast, to my perverse satisfaction, I noticed that he, too, looked as if he had not slept the night.

After we ate, I held him back and confessed that I was a wreck without him.

"Please come to me tonight," I begged him.

"What about your religion?" he asked, earnestly. "I confess, I much prefer your company to an empty bed, but I would not dream of imposing myself on you."

"I shall have to sin, then," I said, smiling at him. After all, I thought, my whole marriage is a grievous sin according to my religion.

"Stella," he said, gently taking my hand, "You are so lovely and wonderful. I can hardly understand how you can be unclean at all---and more so, how you can make me anything but better by your presence."

I felt my eyes well with tears as he embraced me and planted a gentle kiss on my lips. "There, there," he whispered, "do not cry, my little Jewess."

There was one more part to this custom: at the conclusion of my period, I was to take a ritual bath, in order to purify myself. In London, my sisters and I went to mikveh at the Bevis Marks synagogue; here, at Bloomfield, a bathtub, though stat would have to do.

All alone in my dressing room, I undressed and cleaned myself as I should do at Bevis Marks. I then slid in the behemoth tub and held my head under water for a fraction of a second. As I came up, my eyes closed, I muttered a prayer. When I had said my prayer for the third and final time and finally opened my eyes, I was surprised to see William standing in front of me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, slightly shocked at the impropriety of it. "Have you been watching me?"

"I was looking for you," he said. "I had to ask you something."

"What?"

"I confess I quite forgot," he murmured, peering, most inappropriately, at my form, unclothed and wet. Then, to my further surprise, he began to unbutton his coat.

"What are you doing?" I cried, laughing, as he flung his coat to the floor.

"It seems that I, too, am in need of a little purification," he said, tearing at his cravat. "After all, I have shared your bed for the past three nights, my darling---and have been polluted most egregiously." His cravat, then his shirt, breeches, and boots joined his coat on the floor. "My soul is in danger, Stella---unless you cleanse it---now."

As he joined me in the bathtub, William said, his voice hoarse:

"I have to say, Stella, that your people are wise. Three nights in your bed, unable to touch you---that really was quite a torture."

He began kissing me, his lips slipping on my wet skin. I was still nidda, unclean: another week needed to pass before my husband could legally touch me. Yet, I could not contain myself: I responded to him with all the heat, which had been preserved in me for the past several days. Since the time of Solomon, we Jews are bid to find the greatest simcha, mirth, in the union, both spiritual and carnal, with the one we love.

One morning, as we all sat at breakfast, Mlle Carefour, Alexandra's governess, announced that she was leaving to get married. William, who apparently knew about this, looked sour.

"We shall all miss you," he said to Mlle Carefour. "My sisters shall miss you. And I shall certainly miss the results of your good labors," he glanced at Alexandra.

"You shall have no trouble finding mademoiselle Alexandra a good governess," Mlle Carefour said.

"Oh, I doubt that," William sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

Richard Fenwick who, of late, had been coming to Bloomfield nearly every day, suggested quietly:

"Perhaps Miss Hester should teach her sister."

"I?" Vanessa laughed. "How am I qualified?"

"Actually," William said, suddenly caught up in the idea. "I think you are tremendously qualified!"

"What shall I teach?"

"Grammar, literature, music, French-"

"C'est vrai," Mlle Carefour agreed. "Mlle Hester parle français aussi bien que moi."

"Nessa, I should quite like you to teach me!" Alexandra said pensively. "I am going to miss dear Mlle Carefour dreadfully, but if someone else has to teach me, I should rather it be you than a stranger!"

"I shall think about it," Vanessa promised, obviously flattered. "But I cannot teach everything---there are subjects of which I am perfectly ignorant!"

"You are being too harsh on yourself, Miss Hester," Mr. Fenwick said.

"No, no. I know little of history and geography, and my literary education is incomplete as well. And though I understand mathematics, I am poorly qualified to teach it."

"Well then, let Stella help you." William said, throwing me a hopeful glance.

"William, I would be honored, but like your sister, I am worried that having knowledge is not the same as being capable of teaching!"

"There is no harm in trying," William said. "Please, Stella, you know history and geography better than anyone I know. The both of you should be great. Do me this favor and try?"

"Well, all right," I said, baffled.

Samuel immediately suggested that on his part, he could teach his younger sister mathematics, to which she loudly objected: "Willie, why do I need mathematics, of all things?"

"You need everything," William replied sternly. "It forms the mind. It shall make you a clever young lady---or should you rather be obtuse and make a joke of yourself among intelligent people?"

Alexandra retreated, grumbling to herself that Miss Such-and-such, while not knowing how to put two and two together, was splendid clever, and no-one was making her spend the days of her youth suffering over numbers---but William's one raised eyebrow was enough to silence her on the subject.

So it was decided. We were now to teach Alexandra everything we, ourselves, knew of the world. I felt positively influential, for Ali, though delightful and kind was, indeed, somewhat unformed and uneducated. William was thrilled at having come to such a useful decision; he quite forgot that it was Mr. Fenwick, who suggested it to him in the first place. On my part, I welcomed the opportunity to talk about the things I loved most with someone I liked and to impart my passion upon another.

During our first lesson, I came to discover exactly how unfinished Alexandra's education was. Apparently, whatever Mme Carefour taught her, it was not geography. Alexandra and I stood in front of a large globe in the library; I handed her Mlle Carefour's old pointer and asked her to show me where we were at the moment.

After she had wandered around the globe for a good five minutes, looking for Bloomfield Park anywhere from Brazil to Ceylon to Russia, I turned the world around so that we were faced with a map of England.

"Oh, right," she said. "This is where we are!" And she indicated that Bloomfield Park was near none other than Dublin, Ireland.

"I see. Shall you do me a favor, dear Ali? By our next lesson, which is, well, tomorrow, I should like you to learn the map of Britain."

"Of England, you mean to say?"

"No," I said. "Of the British Isles---England, and Scotland, and Ireland, and Wales."

Alexandra sulked. "Learn it?"

"Well enough to show me any city, county, or river I ask for."

"But Stella!" she protested. "I already have homework from Vanessa!"

"And you shall have more from me," I said. "It is only eleven o'clock, Ali, you have all day. I have promised your brother to try my best---how am I to fulfill that promise if I do not assign you sufficient homework?"

With that, we went to history. Before going into the beginnings of time, I decided to find out what my sister-in-law knew about what was happening in the world at the time. Suffice it to say, her knowledge of geography was vastly superior to that of current affairs.

"Who is the ruler of England?" I asked her. She stared at her shoes. "The Queen?" She muttered, looking up at me.

"Very well, the Queen," I said. "And her name is-"

"I do not know," the girl said.

"Then how do you know that we have a Queen?"

"Because the vicar in Church says, "God save the Queen."

"Right." That was definitely an improvement. At the very least, her deductive skills were good. "Her name, by the way, is Victoria."

"Oh, of course, Victoria! I knew that!"

"Do you know how old the Queen is?"

"I should think she is entirely too old and displeasing! And hideous, probably."

"She is my age," I said, baffling Alexandra. "And quite amiable and attractive, from what I hear."

"But that makes her barely older than me!"

"Yes. If you were forced to govern a country tomorrow, Ali, what should you do?"

Alexandra seemed duly impressed and I decided to go on. "And the prime-minister?" I asked, sheltering no hope. She stared back at me, saying nothing.

"Mlle Carefour did not teach me that," she said, finally.

"Pray tell, Ali, what did your excellent Mlle Carefour teach you?"

The girl became excited. "French," she cried, "And piano, and singing, and some drawing, even!"

"Delightful," I said, thinking that perhaps, it was an exceedingly good thing the woman had left. "Is your French good?" I asked her.

"Well, Vanessa does not think so. She says I should work more on my accents and grammar---but I think I am good enough to speak at balls, if I wanted to seem refined."

I stifled a laugh; should William, with his odium of any kind of pretension, hear this!

"Well, I cannot judge your French," I said. "I should like to learn it myself."

"Do you not speak it at all?"

"No, I was never taught."

"Do you speak anything else?"

"Hebrew and Ladino," I said. She became curious and asked me questions about the languages, and when I told her that both Hebrew and Ladino were written right to left, she became very excited and pressed me into writing her name for her.

"Later," I said resolutely. As far as homework, I pitied her, and only asked her to tell me, by tomorrow, who the Prime Minister was and which party was in power.

"And you cannot ask anyone!" I warned her.

"How am I to find out, then?"

Taking her by the hand, I turned her around, pointing at the numerous bookcases that rose, filled with books, to the very ceiling. "And," I added, "William receives a Sunday paper from London, which he keeps, having read it, in that large basket, right over there."

Alexandra spent all of that day in the library. She went there after supper as well, and we did not see her for the rest of the evening. Much later, before retiring ourselves, William and I went to check on her in the library; we found her, poorly lit by the only remaining candle, asleep in a large armchair. Her fingers were covered in ink and an open issue of The Times half-slipped off her lap. Several books and numerous sheets of paper, all covered with squiggly writings, were scattered around her on the rug. I picked one up from the floor and read:

"England---London, Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester. Scotland---Aberdeen, Glasgow, Edinburgh. Wales---Swansea, Cardiff. Ireland---Dublin, Ulster. Lord Melbourne is the Prime Minister..."

I showed it to William. He looked over it, smiling. "What a day's progress!" he whispered, obviously delighted. "You are a treasure, Lady Hester."

He then lifted Alexandra in his arms and carried her to her room, where we surrendered her to the cares of Mrs. Livesay.

Vanessa's impressions of Alexandra's knowledge were slightly better than mine, for she tutored her in subjects, which had previously been the focus of Mlle Carefour's instruction. Samuel's lectures, on the other hand, failed miserably.

It was about a week into our little project that Vanessa and I, having walked in the Park, came home to a screaming argument between Samuel and Ali. She had been morose over Vanessa's refusal to take her with us, as she still had her mathematics lesson. Now, as we entered the house, we were met by screaming and weeping emanating from the library: the former belonged to Samuel, the latter---the desperate, dejected sobs---to his sister.

"Oh, no," Vanessa said, directing her step towards the library.

There, Samuel paced madly, from time to time erupting in mild blasphemy, which invariably caused Alexandra to become more inconsolable.

"What is the matter?" Vanessa cried as we entered. Alexandra sprung to her feet, rushed towards us, and threw her arms around my neck, proceeding to weep on my shoulder.

"I cannot teach her, Vanessa!" Samuel exclaimed. "How on earth did we get a sister so stupid?"

"Samuel, please!" Vanessa said angrily. "Choose your language more wisely, if you please!"

Alexandra, tearing her face away from my shoulder and pointing accusatively at her brother, moaned through her tears:

"He always says that! Ever since we've started, all I hear from him is ‘stupid, stupid, stupid!' Why does he even try teaching me?!"

"It is like she is not our parents' daughter! Lazy, unthinking, stupid girl!"

This brought on a new spell of weeping; the dress on my shoulder was now positively soaked. I was furious with Samuel; it would serve him well to be a bit kinder to his sister.

"How do you expect her to learn anything when you shout at her?" I asked. "Did your professors at Cambridge abuse you in such an abominable manner?"

"The difference was, dear sister, that I never merited such a reproof," Samuel said, haughtily. I had nothing to say to that.

"Come," I said to Alexandra, who was still sobbing. The three of us quitted the room, leaving Samuel to fume alone.

That night, after William came home from a surveying trip, Vanessa and I told him of what had transpired. He frowned, silent, and then asked Samuel for better self-control next time.

"She won't learn a thing with him," I said to him that night. "Perhaps you should teach her yourself."

"Samuel is remarkably good at mathematics. He has all manner of awards from Cambridge. I, on the other hand, am only average at it. He can do a better job teaching her."

It was exceedingly strange to hear that he could have been average at anything; I remained convinced that patient and good-hearted as he was, William could do a far superior job to what his hot-blooded, intolerant brother had been doing.

Samuel's forbearance lasted for exactly another week; his second fight with Alexandra happened in William's presence, leaving the latter irate with his younger brother. William had been sitting in his study, occupied with some accounting documents for the estate; as I sat reading, I moved my chair close to his. He was like a source of light to me: simply being in his presence made me feel warm and happy. From time to time, he reached for me and stroked my hair absent-mindedly.

This fairly pleasant pastime was most rudely interrupted, as Samuel and Alexandra burst through the double doors, screaming at each other. Alexandra was weeping, and Samuel was flailing his arms in great agitation. William put down the papers and stared, bewildered, at his younger siblings.

I pleaded with Samuel and Alexandra to calm down, but that was easier said than done. Samuel continued to pace, furiously, around the study, while Ali sniveled piteously, shuddering with every sob.

William said nothing, waiting for an explanation, but I could see that he was slowly beginning to boil. I did not understand the problem that Samuel was having: there was not a person in the world who could not get along with Alexandra. Perhaps, I thought, it would be good if he felt the brunt of his brother's anger.

It was all the same: she complained that he was verbally abusive, calling her a daft idiot; the only thing that Samuel could say to his defense was that she had been inattentive, careless and lazy.

"Right," William said. "No more mathematics for you, Alexandra."

Sob.

"That is, until we find you a more fitting tutor---one with better self-control and more gentlemanly manners!" he added, poison in his voice.

"I fail to understand why you encourage mediocrity in her, Will!" Samuel said haughtily.

"I! Encourage mediocrity!" William cried. "If I could, I should encourage some kindness in you---but that, I am afraid, is impossible!"

"Does it strike you that perhaps it is just impossible to teach her?"

William frowned, as if physically pained, as Alexandra emitted a dangerously high-pitched sob.

"Just---disregard my request, Samuel, shall you?" he said briskly, turning back to his papers. "And please quit my apartments immediately," he added.

Samuel did as told, slamming the door behind him. William pretended to read, while I tried to comfort Ali. All of a sudden, he set his documents aside and said, crossly:

"Lady Stella, shall you help my sister calm down---outside of this room?"

I complied, leading Ali out of the room.

"Will is cross with me, is he not?" she asked, miserable. "Why, oh why am I so dull?"

"William is cross with Samuel, not you." I answered. "And you are not dull. You are perfectly clever---you are just a tad bit inattentive sometimes, but that is to be expected of young ladies. At any rate, you can teach yourself to concentrate."

That night, in our marriage bed, William complained to me, like a child.

"I am just so tired, Stella, I am so tired of worrying for everyone," he whispered. "First my father, and my mother, and now Samuel is determined to propose to the wrong woman, and Vanessa is constantly cross with me for not allowing her to sing, and Alexandra---Alexandra is promising to turn out a daft blabbermouth of sorts, and I must feel responsible for all of it!"

"You cannot concern yourself so," I whispered, gently stroking his face. "You are responsible for their guardianship, true, but you cannot make them all perfect, and you cannot keep everyone happy."

"Well, I feel responsible for them," he sighed. "My mother loves us all dearly, but she could never be a disciplinarian, not for the life of her! I am afraid that if I were to leave Alexandra with her, she would turn out pretentious and empty-headed..."

"What about Samuel? You cannot influence him. He is already a grown man."

"No," he agreed. "But he is searching for his own lodgings in the area---I cannot turn my own brother out of doors! The truth is," he admitted, "I am quite ashamed to admit it, but my own patience is short when it comes to Samuel. Sometimes I fear I find too much fault with him...

Ah, Stella," he whispered, "you make me think of these things---you make me a better man."

He held me tightly against him, and like so, we fell asleep.

William

Soon after Samuel had abandoned all of his efforts to teach Alexandra mathematics, the Hesters received a formal invitation from the Fenwicks---to attend a masquerade ball at Hereford. It was a most delightful news; and even the usually quiet, unenthusiastic Vanessa seemed genuinely pleased.

Alexandra, on her part, jumped up and down for a good minute, and it pained William greatly to deliver a different piece of news to her: she could not go.

"It is an adult function, Ali," he said, trying to soften the blow as much as possible, but her lip had already started to tremble, and tears were about to flow from her eyes.

"But William, it is a masquerade!" Alexandra cried. Bloody hell, William thought, why did Dick Fenwick have to go and make it a blasted masquerade?

"It is still an adult function," he persisted, and, having suggested that perhaps, she could go next year, made his escape before a river of tears would spill forth. He took Zanzibar and went riding, angry with Fenwick, Alexandra, but most of all, himself. But it was all well: by the time he would come home, he thought, the worst of it would have blown over.

As it always happens, it did not. At supper, Alexandra sulked and said not a word. She barely ate and her eyes were red like a rabbit's. William tried to sound spry, made jokes, and talked too much about the disputes between his tenants and the calf he had seen born the day before. But it was all in vain; the women of his family kept their silence---both Stella and Vanessa seemed to have developed some sort of a plot to drive him insane, as both were perfectly pleasant and completely mute.

He would not be bested by three consorting women, William said to himself and, for the last part of the supper, spoke only to Samuel---who, still sour a week after William had thrown him out of his apartments, proved to be a poor conversation companion.

That night, he came to Stella's apartments, fully certain of the coldest possible reception, and was surprised and delighted, having found his wife flirtatious, ready and willing. A moment after he walked in, her arms were around his neck, and his lips were on his.

"Madam, my sisters are going to crucify you," he laughed, sweeping her into an embrace.

"We shan't tell them," Stella whispered back to him. I am ever so fortunate a man, William only just had the time to think, before all sense and reason abandoned him.

Later that night, his eyes roved lazily over her form, so perfect and womanly, as she lounged next to him, propping her disheveled head on one arm.

"Alexandra is very sad, Will," she said. He groaned and fell back on the pillows.

"I knew it," he said, half-jokingly. ‘I should not have come here tonight."

"Do you regret it?"

"I shall, if you do not quit this subject. I know what you are doing, Lady Hester.

You lured me here---ensnared me with your womanly charms!---and now that I am completely undone, you are to deliver the final blow."

"I did no such thing!" Stella said, laughing. "You came here---I simply afforded you the reception I thought should be afforded to one's beloved husband."

"Mmmmmm," he closed his eyes and smiled. "Say it again," he demanded.

"Say what again?"

" ‘Beloved husband.'"

His eyes still shut, he felt her move nearer, felt her hair tickle his chest and her lips touch his ear gently.

"My beloved husband," she whispered. This was the moment he could have given her anything she should deign to ask her. Except, of course, what she actually did ask for.

"William," she said softly, "Ali is so broken-hearted."

William sighed, uneasy at disappointing her. He valued her advice when it came to his siblings, but he felt that the undue indulgence in upbringing often lead to the most miserable results; in addition, the liveliness, which made Stella all the more attractive to his eyes could be damaging to his sisters. Particularly in someone like Alexandra, who had little proper understanding or self-limitation, such spryness could very easily degenerate into an extreme lack of decorum.

"I cannot take her, Stella," William said. His eyes still closed, he felt, momentarily, that she held herself away from him, and sighed, grieved that her affection was so easily lost. Then, a second later, her head came to rest on his shoulder, and he clasped her tightly in his arms.

"She has been crying all day today," Stella told him. "It is only a masquerade ball, Will."

"It is just improper, Stella. She is but fifteen years old. She is not yet out. The ball is going to run until late into the night---and a mask is not going to hide her. Tomorrow---tomorrow, Stella---all of --shire is going to say that young Alexandra Hester was dancing at a late-night ball."

"Why is it important?" she asked. "You often wonder about what all of --shire will think. Why does it concern you so much?"

"Because it is rather likely that when it is Alexandra's time to have suitors, to be courted, to marry---it is very likely, Stella, that she will marry one of the local gentlemen. I do not want it to be said that my youngest sister is wild."

"But you liked it---in me, I mean to say."

"I did," he agreed. "But I am afraid that Alexandra does not have your good judgment and your common sense. If she is allowed to do what she wants, she'll just remain silly like she is ... I cannot," he said stubbornly. "Please do not ask me anymore ... It pains me exceedingly to refuse you."

Stella made no further mention of the matter, having honored his request. William rejoiced, once again, at how clever a wife he had.

Stella Rosa

There was one more problem with the Fenwicks' invitation: I could not dance. My parents had not anticipated that one day, I may have to display my waltzing skills; all I knew where the Sephardim dances, which were as easy to learn as they were delightful to practice.

So, a fortnight before the great ball, William and Vanessa undertook to teach me the waltz, masurka, and polonaise. One morning, having for once excused Alexandra from her lessons, the three of us gathered in the Bloomfield ballroom--a great room, two floors high, with a magnificent crystal chandelier. On one side, a rather large gallery meant to allow the Hesters' guests to socialize and observe the dancing couples below.

Vanessa lead the way and landed, with flourish, in front of the pianoforte.

"Shall we now begin?" she inquired, throwing a meaningful glance at William and me, one eyebrow raised.

William, suddenly very formal, stepped towards me and, with a bow, offered me his hand.

"May I have the honor, madam?" he asked. I stepped up, placing my palm on top of his. His back very straight, he immediately pulled me closer, one hand grasping mine, the other expertly sliding to the middle of my back. "Now see, Stella: you start with your left foot and step back; yes, like so. And now, with your right one--yes, very well. And you turn as I turn. Vanessa, please."

Vanessa's talented hands took the first chord. "Just trust me," William whispered. "You'll do splendidly. Very well, one--two--three--"

It was really quite amazing; looking down at my feet, I expected them to make a mistake, but lo and behold! I was dancing. William's strong arms capably steered me around the dance floor, and his voice whispered into my ear: "One-two-three, here, hold my hand a little higher, one-two-three, you are doing beautifully, my darling, do not look at your feet--one-two-three--beautiful--"

I allowed him to lead me, and soon, my lips stopped whispering the "one-two-threes" and I stopped looking at my feet. I had never imagined that a simple dance may bring this much pleasure! What was once a childish diversion now became a purely sensual experience of surrendering to my husband's powerful embrace and allowing him to lead me.

Watching William as he danced was yet another beautiful experience. How graceful he was; how handsome; how easily his long body slid along the dance floor; and, what touched me most, how his eyes gazed at me!

We stopped, finally, and William, looking very pleased, laughed, picked me up and twirled me around the room.

"You are a natural, my love!" he said as he set me down.

Vanessa, turning around, applauded. "Oh, Stella, you shall take everyone's breath away!" she said kindly. I was elated; running over to her, I placed a most grateful kiss on her cheek.

"Another one, my love," William ordered more than asked; but was I glad to comply!

"Yessss, yessss, another one!" I cried, running back into his embrace. He kissed the top of my head as we took our position.

"Maestro, please!" my husband nodded to Vanessa, and my lesson continued.

...That night, I could not sleep, tossing and turning. In my head, there played a beautiful waltz; as I closed my eyes, I saw myself on the dance floor, in my husband's strong embrace. My heart beat wildly as I longed to go back to the ballroom.

His arms locking me into a tight embrace, William slept fitfully as well, muttering something in his sleep. As the night was very warm, I tried to free myself from his embrace, and woke him unwittingly. He muttered something, turned to the other side, and was immediately asleep again.

"Sorry, sorry," I murmured, sliding out of bed.
Throwing a dressing gown over my night-shirt, I slipped out of the bedroom and ran, barefoot, down the long hallway.

I found my way to the grand ballroom. It would have been quite dark but for the light of the large yellow moon that hung low over the Bloomfield gardens, peeking through the tall French windows. As it turned out, it was quite sufficient for me.

I threw my robe on a chair, and took a position in the middle of the floor.

"Sir," I nodded regally to my imaginary partner.

"You start with your left," he said, smiling kindly.

"Very well," I whispered, raising my arms, as if responding to his proffered embrace. "I shall follow you, sir..."

Closing my eyes, I stepped back with my left, counting softly to myself. It was not long before the music in my head raised me and carried me as if on shining white wings. The phantom arms steered me masterfully around the floor; very soon, the need to count disappeared and I lost myself in the waltz.

I did not know how much time passed before the music faded and I stopped. My eyes still shut, I sighed deeply, feeling my partner let go of me, as his hand, unwillingly, slipped out of mine. The dance was over; I was, once again, all alone.

Great was my amazement when the ghost hand was suddenly replaced by a warm human one. I opened my eyes, only to see my husband in front of me.

"William, what are you doing here? Were you watching me?"

He nodded, smiling. "You never cease to amaze me, my beautiful Stella," he whispered. Like myself, he was barefoot, and wore only a pair of breeches and a white shirt, which gleamed faintly in the moonlight. "I could not sleep without you," he confessed, "and I knew where to follow you, my love." His hand found the middle of my back, pulling me closer. "Shall we?"

The music returned immediately, this time more joyous and confident, as my love guided me around the dance floor in the pale moonlight. When our dance was over, we remained, for a long time, in the middle of the grand ballroom, our lips, our bodies, our very souls pressed together.

..........

Soon after the invitation came from the Fenwicks, William and I, together with Samuel and Vanessa, walked to town to buy our masquerade costumes. I was most excited; I had never before been in a masquerade.

"Yes, it's quite pleasing," Vanessa said, in her rather sedate manner. "The downside is that most of the costumes are really quite uncomfortable."

It was decided that the four of us were to go dressed as the nobility of the previous century---complete with powdered wigs and glittering jewelry. To my surprise, it took our men longer to choose their costumes than it did Vanessa and me. Vanessa bought a red crinoline dress, and I set my sights on a very open frock of silver velvet, complete with a breathtaking train. William was resplendent in his costume of a marquis, which he stepped out, timidly, to show me.

"Is this good?" he asked. "I feel like an utter fop wearing this!"

I reassured him, candidly, that he was magnificent. He, too, approved of my choice, though looking quizzically at its very generous décolletage.

"Was there, perhaps, another one like this---" he whispered, "but less, um, uncluttered? No? Very well, then, this one is quite, um, exquisite on you."

It was then that I noticed Vanessa looking intently at a costume of a page.

"Should you wear something like this?" I asked her.

"No," she said, smiling. "Sadly, I am much too old for this, sister."

Over the next week, I took many more dance lessons from my favorite teacher; both William and Vanessa constantly bestowed what I thought was unwarranted praise on me and finally, I, myself, began to believe them. Dancing with my husband was a superb pleasure to me---his arms around me were strong, but he was also splendidly graceful. Being so near him and so much in his power all but drove me mad with desire; the nights we spent together before the ball were our most passionate yet.

Then, several days before the ball, I knocked on Vanessa's door. There was some shuffling behind the doors, and then, Alexandra's voice asked, hesitantly:

"Who is it?"

"It is I, Stella."

"Are you alone?"

At my assurance that indeed, I was alone, I was bid to come in. I entered and found the sisters, looking strangely uncomfortable, in front of a large mirror. What was even stranger, Alexandra was all but nude, wearing only her undergarments.

"What are you doing?" I asked them. Both girls looked away from me. Knowing full well that I would regret it, I approached Vanessa's bed--I was not sure why--and quickly removed a cover. There, to my mortification, I found the very page's costume I had seen in the shop.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, quite angry.

"Oh, Stella, please, do not tell!" Alexandra cried.

I repeated my question, and the girls confessed: Alexandra was going to come to Hereford, later, alone, dressed as a pageboy and wearing a mask.

"Whose idea is it?" I cried.

"Mine," Vanessa said firmly. "I think William is wrong in not letting Ali go to Hereford. I think it should be no great harm if she went."

"You think? He is her guardian, Vanessa---and yours! If he so decided---"

"Oh, Stella dearest, please," Alexandra begged. "I promise that I shall behave---and William will never know! Promise you shan't betray us to him!"

I was quite confounded. My first loyalty was to my husband, but spying and reporting was quite against my nature. Margarita always did that, constantly spying after me and informing my father, Beni and even Luish, her husband, every time that I misbehaved.

"I shan't tell," I said. "But if something happens to you---how shall I look my husband in the eye?"

Incensed, I quitted Vanessa's bedroom. For the next several days, I sulked, terrified that William should find out of the girls' plan; I felt awful for lying to my husband and tried to justify it to myself as simply withholding the truth. But I knew: such egregious disobedience was a failing, and I was now tainted as well.

The night of the ball came. William came to my apartments and found me in front of the mirror, dressed as a marquise, my hair powdered with silver and a fake mole on my cheek. I placed another one, in the shape of a heart, just above the neckline of my dress. He noticed it immediately and made me blush by granting it a most immodest kiss.

"Mmmmm," he sighed. "A new perfume, dearest? Orchids," he whispered, regretfully taking his lips away. "Unfortunately, we must depart. But I shall think of you all night through, my love."

We donned our masks, and I could barely contain my excitement---my husband would have to be the most handsome man in the entire assembly; and surely, the tallest.

"For tonight, madam, you should close your dance-list," he told me as we quitted my bedroom. "For I shan't give you up to anyone else..."

In the carriage, I tried to read Vanessa's expression to determine whether Alexandra was to follow us to Hereford. Her face, however, was impenetrable behind her mask, and she said little. Samuel sat next to her, dressed similarly to William, with powdered hair and great blue bow on his foil.

At Hereford, we were greeted by Mr. Fenwick and his beautiful sister; he was dressed as a corsair, and she---as Anne Bonny.

"How delightful, Lady Hester," Miss Fenwick purred, tossing back her blond curls and pointing at the mole on my chest, "I am sure this is much to Sir William's liking!"

This was shockingly improper, but tonight, on the night of the masquerade, almost anything went.

"Yes," William said, placing a possessive hand on my waist. "Much to my liking---as is everything my wife does, Miss Fenwick."

Miss Fenwick grew somewhat sallow; her brother, on the other hand, beamed, looking very handsome, and could not take his eyes off of Vanessa. He soon inquired after her first three dances, and they were off. Samuel and Miss Fenwick followed them, leaving William and me alone on the threshold of the glittering ballroom, where many couples, richly dressed, whirled to the sound of a beautiful waltz.

"May I have the honor of this dance, madam?" my love asked me, most gallantly, and soon, the music lifted us up.

My husband proved to be the most wonderful dance partner. I danced with other men as well, barely managing not to stumble, but every time, I jealously watched William, as he danced with other ladies, and every time, I was glad to return to him. In general, I enjoyed myself immensely; I was beginning to believe that Alexandra, out of prudence, had changed her mind and would not appear.

After yet another waltz, William offered me his arm and we took a walk in the gallery, which overlooked the lush Hereford gardens.

"You have proved to be an excellent student," he said to me, as we stopped in front of a large window, which opened over a stream running through Hereford.

"Of dance?" I asked him.

"Of everything," he whispered, gently turning me around towards himself.

"I've had a most wonderful teacher," I said, a second before a passionate kiss overtook us.

We stood like that for a long time and finally parted for air.

"I do wish we could retire home," I whispered, turning away to look into the illuminated garden.

"Do you, really?" he laughed. "I thought you were having a good time."

"True," I agreed. "I love dancing. But when you kiss me, William, there is no place I should rather be than in your embrace---in our bedroom."

He seemed pleased. "That is some forward talk from a refined young lady," he said, smirking.

"I am sorry to cause you any unhappiness," I said, teasing him, "but you may have to choose."

"Choose?"

"Between having a refined young lady and a passionate wife," I whispered, looking up into his face. Not even the ridiculous powdered wig could make him any less handsome. His kiss was his answer, and it assured me of what his choice would necessarily be.

When we parted again, I leaned against the windowsill to catch my breath. Casting my eyes about the garden, I noticed, all of a sudden, two familiar figures---a lady in a marquise costume and a handsome corsair---standing by the stream.

"William, look!" I whispered. He came to stand next to me, looking out into the garden.

"Why, if it is not Fenwick and my sister!" he said, with no small dose of surprise.

Indeed, the people outside were our Vanessa and our host. The fact of their presence in the garden was not by itself surprising---it was the fact that the corsair held marquise's both hands, clasping them gently at his breast, which made us realize that we were intruding upon something private and momentous.

"William, we are spying after them," I whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "It is most improper!"

"Oh, nonsense," he answered. "I have a right to see how my ward is occupied!"

"Not only is she your war d, she is also your sister," I noticed. "And Mr. Fenwick is a friend of yours! Cease, sir, it is most unfitting."

"Do you not want to see?" he hissed, waving me away.

"I am dying to see," I confessed.

"Well, hush, then, wife," he whispered, looping one arm around my waist, and together, we watched the corsair bring his lady's hands to his lips. With utter astonishment and joy, we saw him kneel before her and her---touch his face gently.

"I cannot believe this!" William muttered. "Fenwick, you fiend!"

"He hasn't spoken to you about this?"

"No," William shook his head. "Not a word. I knew that he liked Vanessa, but this---"

In the meantime, the corsair was back to his feet. Because the marquise was so tall, he did not have to lean when he put one hand on her face and gently touched her lips with his. I felt awful for spying on them, but thrilled that of all people, it was Mr. Fenwick. I knew that William loved him like a brother, and I was beginning to esteem his greatly.

Witnessing their kiss, William made an unintelligible sound.

"I told you we should not watch this," I said.

"Aren't you the fountain of wisdom," he grumbled.

Suddenly, the corsair parted from the marquise and took off, running, in the direction of the house. She remained standing, immobile, as if frozen.

"What the---" William furroughed his brow.

"I think we should return to the ballroom, quickly," I suggested. "It seems to me your friend is coming to talk to you about something important."

So we did, almost running. We were there before Richard Fenwick and when he entered, quite out of breath, pretended to have been engaged in a dance. He approached us and bowed to me sharply.

"Lady Stella, may I take your husband away for a short moment?" he asked.

"Why, Fenwick, what is the matter?" William raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing----nothing's the matter. I just need to speak with you, Hester---about something quite private."

"Fenwick, there is nothing you can possibly tell me, which my wife is not fit to hear," William said, bent on teasing the poor man. Fenwick hesitated, and I decided that I could not watch William torture him so.

"No, no, William, I shall not intrude upon you," I said, stepping aside. "I am sure Mr. Fenwick's judgment is correct. Go ahead, gentlemen. My dearest, I shall be here, waiting for you." I gave him the most alluring glance I was capable of, and the two friends were off.

My heart somewhat aflutter, I made my way to an ottoman and sat down, and it was then that I saw, to my greatest consternation, Alexandra enter the room, dressed as a young page. She immediately saw me and approached me timidly.

"Ali," I whispered. "Are you insane?"

"Stella, where is Will?"

"He is speaking with Mr. Fenwick about Va---about something important. How did you come to be here?"

"I rode Vicar."

"Alone at night? Ali, William is going to be furious with you---and with the rest of us."

"But I am wearing a mask," she pointed out the obvious.

"Do you think your brother an imbecile?" I hissed. "In addition, you do not think, do you, that I should allow you to go back on horseback? You are to ride back with us, in the carriage."

"But William is going to be angry with me!"

"Irate, I daresay. But you've made your bed, little one, you are now to lie in it."

Alexandra sulked. At that moment, I saw my husband and Mr. Fenwick approach. For a second, I panicked, but a second later, realized that I was only able to recognize Alexandra because I had seen her costume before. She immediately stepped away, getting lost in the reveling crowd, and William, who was clearly in high spirits, paid her no mind. Distressed as I was, I had to notice that both men were positively beaming. "My love," William said, "Have you seen Vanessa?"

I told him I had not, hoping that my dismay was not too visible to him.

"My friend Fenwick has just asked for her hand," William informed me. "I have given my consent to him gladly, and evidently, so has she."

I pretended to be surprised and as to joy, there was no need to pretend. I liked Mr. Fenwick prodigiously, and was certain that he was to make Vanessa a most excellent husband. It was decided that we should all go and find her; but soon, there was no need to do so, because she, herself, approached us.

"Dear sister," William effused, grinning. "I am so glad---Stella and I are thrilled for you!"

To my surprise, Vanessa's reply was rather cool.

"I, too, am glad, brother," she said, smiling calmly. "Mr. Fenwick and I have decided that we should not tarry and should get married as soon as the banns go through."

"I shall have no objections to that," William assured her. I was put off, somewhat, by Vanessa's cool air at such a crucial and happy moment; but, I told myself, she is simply numb with happiness. Other than that, the match was agreeable to all of us. Of course, Lady Hetty permission would need to be asked, but no-one anticipated a negative reply. Yet there were at least two other people to inform at the ball---or so William thought---and Miss Fenwick was fetched immediately. To no-one surprise, she was found in Samuel's company and the two came together.

The joy she exhibited at the news of her brother's impending marriage was as insincere as Samuel's was true. After enough congratulations were bestowed upon the happy couple---or at least the happy husband-to-be, and his reasonably pleased fiancée---Miss Fenwick started, as if remembering something, and said:

"Oh, Sir William! I thought you said that Miss Alexandra was to stay home tonight!"

Vanessa and I froze. We looked at each other, and as her eyes read mine, she grew white. The same question burned in our minds---if it was nearly impossible to recognize Alexandra in her costume, how did Miss Fenwick manage?

"I did say that," William answered, still smiling from the recent happy news. "Why?"

"Well," said Anabelle Fenwick, irresistible, blond curls escaping from under a pirate's bandanna, "In this case, you are poorly informed, my dear sir." And to Vanessa's and my mortification, she pointed to the corner of the room, where Alexandra, still wearing a mask, flirted with a young shepherdess---who, at a closer inspection, turned out to be the young Roger Whitney.

For a second, William's face betrayed his utter confusion; then, as it dawned on him what was going on, he colored deeply and clenched his teeth. By now, I knew him enough to tell that he was furious.

"Hester---" Mr. Fenwick placed a cautioning hand on his friend's shoulder, but William moved away and said, with forced politeness:

"Leave it be, Fenwick." After that, we watched, in utter mortification, as he made his way through the crowd and approached Alexandra, who, caught up in her flirtation, failed to notice him. William leaned over her shoulder and said something; she glanced up at him and staggered, obviously shocked at her easy discovery.

"Oh Lord," Vanessa shook her head ruefully. "I am afraid that there may be nobody left for you to marry, Mr. Fenwick. My brother is liable to murder us all in his righteous anger."

"I am sure you overestimate Sir William's wrath," Miss Fenwick said, smiling. I turned away from her---I simply could not bear watching her revel in family discord.

In the meantime, William returned, holding Alexandra's elbow. They were both still masked; but it was easy to tell that Ali was crying and her brother was positively livid.

"Fenwick," he said in the harshest tone, "we shall retire now. May I ask you a favor?"

"Surely."

"My sister took her horse to ride here---would you be so kind as to send it back with a servant tomorrow? Miss Alexandra is riding back with us."

"Will, I am staying behind," Samuel said, throwing a glance at Miss Fenwick. "Let Ali take my seat in the carriage, and I shall take Vicar."

"As you wish," William said coldly. He bowed to Mr. Fenwick and his sister, turned around sharply on his heels, and quitted the ballroom. We were left no options but to follow him out.

In the carriage, no-one said a word. William stared straight in front of him and the three of us found it most prudent to keep silent. Once arrived at Bloomfield, Alexandra attempted to make for her room, but William stopped her.

"I shall have a talk with you, young lady," he said harshly, and added, turning to Vanessa, "and with you."

I half expected him to drag me along, but he seemed to ignore me. I watched the two sisters follow him, and worried about Alexandra: Vanessa, I knew, had strength enough to stand up to her brother.

That night, I expected him, as usual, to come to my bedroom. However, the time inched close to midnight, and there was no sight of him. I had undressed and brushed the glittering powder out of my hair; sitting in front of the fireplace, I mused about how perceptive Anabelle Fenwick turned out to be; that she was a snake not to be trusted was yet another obvious truth.

As time passed, I began to grow restless. At first I thought of writing him a note; but then, I told myself, this was my home and my husband. Surely I could intrude upon him in his chambers to inquire why he was ignoring me. I threw a robe over my nightdress and went.

As I knocked on the door of William's bedroom, there was no answer. I knocked again and was about to go search for him in his study, when the door opened, and, to my great astonishment and consternation, I saw William already in his nightclothes.

"Madam, must you disturb me when I'm sleeping?" He asked in the most insufferable voice.

I was shocked; I had expected him to still be in his study. I could not imagine that he would purposely shun my bed because of a bad mood.

"I expected you to join me tonight," I said.

"You need not do so," he replied. "I am the master of this household and I shall visit you whenever I desire---and whenever I desire otherwise, I shall remain in my own chambers."

"William!" I cried. "What is wrong with you? Are you to quit my bed every time one of your sisters disappoints you?!"

"This is has nothing to do with my sisters," he said, in furious whispers. "You have disappointed me, Stella."

"I have? Pray tell, how?"

"I cannot---shall not discuss this with you right now! We shall talk in the morning!" he snapped.

"Are you alone to decide when and how we resolve our conflicts?" I cried. "Have I no say?"

"Please," he said, more restrained now. "Please do not pressure me, Stella. I shall explain everything tomorrow."

"Then come to bed," I nearly begged, already deeply humiliated. "Must you shun me so?"

"No," he shook his head. "We shall talk in the morning. Good-night, Stella."

This was the most insulting thing short of him slamming the door in my face. I turned around and ran down the hallway; I was fuming with anger, but as soon as I heard the sound of the door slamming behind me, my anger immediately turned into dejection and I burst out crying.

It was unthinkable at that moment to remain in the loneliness of my bedroom. Still crying, I knocked on Vanessa's door. When she opened, I saw that she was not crying, but that Alexandra, sitting with her feet on the bed, was weeping most disconsolately.

"Stella!" Vanessa cried as I stumbled in. "What is wrong, dearest?" Unable to keep my grief to myself, but mortified to explain it to two unmarried girls, I covered my face with both hands and cried in shame.

"He has turned you away from his bed, hasn't he?" Vanessa guessed. "A vile bastard!"

I was shocked both at her understanding and at her inappropriate language; but it made things easier.

"See what you've done, Ali?" Vanessa fumed. ‘Oh, what am I about! See what we have done? Oh, I should never, never have helped you with this preposterous enterprise! Stella, I am so sorry---but I am sure he will be at your feet tomorrow! Much sense there is in marrying when men do things like that!" she added to herself.

Gradually, I stopped crying and sat down on the bed next to Alexandra, who was still whimpering.

"What did he tell the two of you?" I asked. "He is not sending you away, is he?"

"No," Vanessa shrugged her shoulders. "He never would. That would mean surrendering his control over us!"

I knew that she was angry with William, and that made me forgive the obvious unfairness she bestowed upon her rather liberal and doting brother.

"But tonight---tonight he just raved and ranted and stormed around the room for a good quarter of an hour. I daresay it means nothing to me---but that he should treat you so abominably just breaks my heart."

"He thinks I was involved, does he not?"

"No---I told him that you did not know anything, but I doubt he believed me. I think he knows that you knew, even if you were not involved."

"One thing that baffles me," I said after a while, "is how Anabelle managed to recognize Alexandra when even I barely did?"

"Oh!" Vanessa cried, jumping up from the chair where she had landed but a moment ago. "You should like to know that, shouldn't you? Tell our sister, Ali, how it came about that Anabelle Fenwick knew it was you?"

In response, Alexandra fell into another bout of weeping. Vanessa, unable to stand it, shouted at her:

"Hush, you daft thing!" When Alexandra quieted down a bit, Vanessa turned to me. "I could not believe that Anabelle could tell---until Ali told me that she had shown her the costume!"

"What?"

"When they visited here with Mr. Fenwick a week ago, this---this---this fool showed Anabelle Fenwick---Anabelle, of all people!---her page costume!"

I was speechless.

"Ali," I finally managed. "It was supposed to be a secret! And Vanessa is right---of all people, Ali!"

"How was I to know she would betray me?" Alexandra shouted through her tears.

"You should have thought and you should have listened," Vanessa said poisonously. "But I gather that is too much to ask of you, sister---even when others' well-being depends on your silence!"

"That should teach us not to misbehave in her company," I noticed, glum.

"Or for her sake," Vanessa added. Alexandra's wailing rose, ever so loudly, to the ceiling. In her noisy misery, she looked and sounded so pathetic that Vanessa and I could not help laughing.

I woke when I felt someone's lips on mine, and someone's hand wantonly caressing my face. Opening my eyes, I saw my husband. I was immediately angry: the night before I had locked my door, with the express intention to avoid exactly this situation.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him crossly, sitting up. He looked like he had been taken aback by my tone. "I have locked my door last night!"

"Well," he said, smiling unsurely, "I have keys to all the doors in the house..."

"I hoped that a locked door would be a sign to you, sir, that I should appreciate not being intruded upon!"

"I did not realize," he said, looking hurt, "that there were areas in my house where I could not presume to go!"

"It is decided, then," I said, fuming. "You may go wherever you choose, and I have no right to privacy in your house!"

William stood up. "Very well, madam," he said. "I shall go. I have no penchant for remaining where I am so obviously unwanted," he announced, turning to go.

"Wait," I said, feeling weak. However angry with him I was, I could not stand another day of estrangement from him.

He stopped in his tracks, then turned around.

"Wait for what?" he asked, harshly.

"You said that we should talk in the morning. Now is as good a time as ever."

William hesitated. "I suppose you are right," he said, finally. He returned to the bed and sat down on the edge. I gathered my nightdress around my shoulders: though it was summer, I was freezing at the thought of losing his regard.

William spoke first. "Vanessa told me that you were not involved in her and Alexandra's decision to disobey me," he said. "Is this true?"

"Yes," I said.

"She also said that you knew nothing."

I hesitated---it would have been all too easy to say that this was true, as well---that I knew nothing of his sisters' exploit.

"That is not true," I said. "I knew. I chanced upon them as they were trying on Ali's costume."

"So you knew," he said, with visible displeasure. My heart fell.

"Yes, I did," I said.

"And yet, you told me nothing."

I watched him in mute astonishment. "Is this what you would have expected me to do?" I asked him after the gift of speech returned to me. "To spy on your sisters for you?"

"Must you put it in this way?" he frowned. "My restraints on their freedom are naught but reasonable. I have a reason to think of myself as a liberal guardian. But whatever rules I do establish---I should like Vanessa and Alexandra to follow them."

"Very well," I agreed. My mouth felt awfully dry and I thought, longingly, of the pitcher of cold lemonade Mrs. Livesay had down in the kitchen. "But William, how does it follow that I must inform you every time they break those rules?"

He seemed baffled. "You are my wife, Stella!" he cried. "You are my partner in life---my mate---my helper---"

"I am immensely pleased and honored, sir, that you consider me your partner and friend," I said. "But you cannot make me spy on your sisters."

"Spy---Stella, it is not that! But when you know that they intend to misbehave---that they intend to disobey my express orders---"

"Perhaps," I said, marveling at my own boldness, "you should not order them, William. When you denied Alexandra the opportunity to go to Hereford---did you explain to her the reason for your refusal?"

He was silent, looking down. "You know very well, madam," he said bitterly, "what I should and should not do as concerns my sisters' upbringing."

"William, I am only responding to a word you use---do you really think that orders are a fitting way to speak to young women?"

"You know perfectly well, Stella, that there is nothing I should deny my sisters if it were for their good!"

I hastened to reassure him that I did know that. He was silent for a short time, his fingers playing with the lacy edge of my nightgown.

"So," he said finally. "You refuse to help me?"

"If that entails spying after Vanessa and Ali? Absolutely. If that helps you any, ask them, and they will tell you that I tried my best to dissuade Ali from going. That way I am always your partner, William---but not in what you ask of me."

"Very well," he said, after a pause, and rose to go. "I see the reasonableness of your refusal---and even though it is rather disagreeable to me, I shall respect it."

With this, he made for the door. I, however, was not finished with our first fight.

"Wait, sir!" I said. "I, too, have a grievance."

William turned around, amused. "A grievance?" he repeated. "Against me?"

"Absolutely against you," I said. "You have denied me your company last night."

He lowered his eyes. "Stella, I---" he started, obviously embarrassed. "This may be news to you, but most married couples do not share the same bed every night---indeed, it is considered most improper."

"Oh," I said, taken aback. "I did not know that. But William, you told me, on the day of our wedding, that it was your husbandly duty to provide that kind of---intimate company for me, just like it was my wifely duty to do the same for you."

"Stella, I am a human being---"

"I know," I hurried to assure him, "and I would never---never resent you if you failed---" I felt myself color. "William, really, all I wanted last night was your company---and that you should deny it to me as a punishment---" I was finally too overcome to speak. "It was really quite wrong of you," I added quietly.

"Stella, no!" He rushed to me, taking my hands in his. "Not as a punishment---how should I dare! Stella, my love, do you not understand?!"

I was looking at his dear face, glad at this turn in our conversation. Any separation from him pained me most egregiously, particularly when it happened on terms so disagreeable to the both of us.

William gathered his composure and said with a most earnest air.

"Stella, you are my first love---and my first lover. There are simply not enough words for me to describe what you do to me---both to my soul and my body---" For a second, his voice broke and he hid his eyes, as if ashamed of his weakness. "Having you in the same bed with me at night, Stella, so beautiful, and warm, and inviting, and your hair---your hair smells of lavender---" he shook his head. I was beginning to understand.

"I was angry with you last night," he confessed. "If I were to share this bed with you---" He colored deeply. "It would have been torture for me---and it would have been most improper, for my heart was black with anger, even as my flesh was burning with desire for you. I am sorry, my love," he added.

"Promise not to do this again," I begged. "I have had the most awful night, William."

"So have I," he said, hurriedly. "I daresay I barely slept a wink."

He finally gathered enough courage to pull me into a warm embrace. I set my nose against the folds of his robe, inhaling his beloved scent.

"Promise," I muttered, hoping that he hears me. He did. "Very well," he said. "I promise to never refuse my place in your bed---even if it costs me a sleepless night."

"Well, you did not sleep much last night at any rate, did you?"

"And to think that I could have spent that sleepless night in a far more pleasant company than a volume of Russeau," he laughed, loudly inhaling the scent of my hair. "Ah, kerida..."

"Ooh," I laughed. "Music to my ears. Say it again," I demanded. I simply adored it when he attempted to speak my language.

"Kerida," he said into my hair, as his hands slid furtively under my gown and went roaming around my body. "Kerida, amada, linda Stella Rosa."

"Sir," I whispered, even as my own hands met his, ruffled his dark curls, and traced, timidly, the outlines of his body, "we are probably expected to breakfast. And I am expected to teach Alexandra this morning---"

"They will all wait," He silenced me with a kiss. "Do not refuse me," he begged me. "I cannot do without you, my darling, my beloved---"

Very soon, our words turned into a tune of sighs, moans, whispers and laughter, as we came together to celebrate the end of our first married argument. However disagreeable and painful the conflict itself had been, reconciliation, I had to admit, was sweet.

Alhat, Elhat--Sunday (Ladino, from Arabic).

© 2002 Copyright held by the author.

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