Chapter 13
The First Lady
Teresa opened the door to her verandah, rubbing her sleep swollen eyes. She was an early sleeper, but last night she had slept quite late because she was looking out for her irresponsible brother. The morning’s cold hadn’t disappeared completely as it was still quite early in the morning, and the peeking sun was yet to send out strong rays to warm up the day. Teresa drew her robe tighter around her, tying it properly at her abdomen.
Where had he gone anyway? It had better not be the estate of that insidious Rebecca.
Where else would Arthur go but there? It was evident that he still felt a great amount of love for the woman.
I will crush it.
She didn’t need her brother married off to someone like that.
Teresa looked at the gate as it opened. A carriage came into the estate, and Teresa took her eyes away. Her brother had left on horseback, and he would be back the same way. She remembered seeing a rider quickly ghost past her last night, running to the gate and out of the compound. Teresa had not thought that it was Arthur then. She thought he was comfortably in the hands of Lady Lily. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Yes, she knew that Lily was a timid girl with a soft disposition, but that was exactly why she had chosen her. Someone like Lily would be no competition for the heart of her brother.
Teresa saw the cook alight from the carriage. She was carrying a bag filled with groceries, and soon two young stewards came and got into the carriage, coming out with handfuls of food too. This meant the cook had set out early that morning to buy foodstuffs.
“Arthur might have been back,” Teresa murmured to herself.
Teresa moved closer to the edge of her verandah. She whistled, causing both stewards carrying the food to look up. She signalled to the first one to come to up to her chambers. She moved into the room and walked to the front of her mirror, just beside her wardrobe. Quickly shedding the nightgown, Teresa saw her familiar naked body.
She looked at her face, marking out the differences from six years ago when Arthur had left. So much had changed. Now she had a frown wrinkle at the sides of her two cheeks. Then her forehead tended to furrow too easily. Her skin was still as white as always. Her heavy bust now had a slight slope, the taut skin that had once made it perky slacked now, causing it to droop slightly.
Teresa held on to the mirror edge and wondered what she had done wrong. She was nearing three decades in age and wasn’t any closer to getting a suitable husband. She had never been very close. Teresa studied her face in the mirror. She was beautiful enough, certainly more beautiful when she had been younger. She had a fair enough height, and her body was one a man should hunger for. Teresa looked at the soft, leafy centre between her legs. She had enjoyed no prodding there to ease her regular throbbing, no husband to make love to her.
The girls she had grown up with, who were even younger than her, Rebecca and her sister Patricia were already married. Patricia had married even before Arthur had left six years ago, despite how dumb she really was. Patricia was always sullen and was as pliable as a lump of wet cement. Rebecca was the opposite, lively, opinionated, and independent. Rebecca was also in love with her brother, and he in love with her.
Life isn’t fair. Why should they so easily find a husband where I have not even a suitor?
There was a knock on her door.
“Wait, I’ll open it,” Teresa said.
She picked up a petticoat and wore it before selecting a morning gown and getting into that. The gown fit her well, lifting her bust and following the rest of her shape. Teresa then went to her bathroom, bent down to the sink, and washed her face with some scooped water. Feeling more alive than she had moments ago, Teresa walked to the door and opened it. The steward on seeing her bowed before moving back and looking at her.
“Do you know if Lord Bexley is around?” she asked him.
“I do not know, Lady Teresa, but he should be. He would have gone to bed straight from the ball yesterday.”
Teresa shook her head. This boy didn’t know much.
“Find Mr Victor and get him here,” Teresa said.
The steward nodded and walked away. Teresa shut her door and returned to the balcony. Asides the restlessness she was feeling due to her lack of knowledge on the whereabouts of her brother, the morning was actually a fine one. Teresa could see the sun peeking out from behind two grey clouds.
“Of course there couldn’t possibly be rain this morning,” Teresa said aloud.
She liked sunny days. She wanted a sunny day. Looking down, she could see servants cleaning the compound and the gardener dealing with the arms of the bushes that chose to step out of line.
It is the perfect day to host a ball.
Yesterday’s ball had gone so well until the end when she found out Arthur and Lady Lily had left. She first thought they had gone together but then she realised Arthur would never leave on the first night with a girl not named Rebecca.
Yes, he had gone to Rebecca’s place.
There was a tapping knock on a door. It was a triple tap knock, Mr Victor’s knock.
“You can come in Victor,” Teresa said, ushering in the right-hand man.
“Good morning, Lady Teresa,” Mr Victor said.
“Good morning, Victor,” Teresa replied.
Teresa looked at Mr Victor who met her gaze with intensity and without flinching. They had never liked each other much, she and Mr Victor. When she was little, she had refused his orders many times. Being the daughter of the Earl, there wasn’t much Mr Victor could go do. Now that they were older, he didn’t have authority over her anymore.
When her father had been alive, Mr Victor was his most trusted friend. He was untouchable. As the man ailed, Teresa had started taking over his responsibilities as his eldest available child. Mr Victor had shown no problems with that, but Teresa suspected that the man wasn’t pleased. The man was experienced and rather wise; he didn’t speak much and knew far more than he said. Teresa suspected that he knew a lot of what she had done in that house.
When the man died, Teresa had hastily sent a letter to her brother, expecting that when he arrived and started functioning as the Earl, she would be his closest partner. But no, men would always choose men.
Arthur was closer to Mr Victor than he was to her. And Mr Victor had regained his position of power in the house.
It’s just a matter of time before I oust you once again.
Teresa looked at the man, maintaining an icy gaze, waiting for him to back down, but the old man stared coolly at her. That always managed to irk her, how he responded to adversity with the calmness of a shallow lake.
“You called for me?” he said, surely tired now of her games.
“Yes, Victor, I did. Is the Earl in his room now?” she asked.
Mr Victor shook his head.
“I do not know about the whereabouts of the Earl, Lady Teresa. But I expect that he would be in his room. Last I saw him was when you followed him up the stairs last night. I assumed he had an early night,” Mr Victor said without smiling.
Teresa couldn’t read the man, but her gut told her he was lying. He knew very well that Arthur had gone with the young woman to the garden. And he knew that Arthur probably wasn’t in his room.
What if he is?
“Go up to his room and check for me, Victor. I want to know if he’s around. There’s something I need to discuss with him.”
Mr Victor nodded and walked out of her room. Teresa almost hissed. The man got under her skin every time. For someone so old, he walked with youthful grace. She needed to get him out of the way. She needed to get everyone out of the way. The only person she needed was Arthur.
Teresa remembered how she had played second fiddle to her younger brother, Arthur, even before he had left six years ago.
I am always the one excess to necessity, the second in command. I don’t want to be second in command. I want to be first.
Their father focused on Arthur every time. Whether it was music or French tutorials, their father would always remind the teacher that Arthur was the next Earl and so should be paid a lot of attention. And when there were assignments during which her father could take one of them, he would always pick Arthur.
“You need this sort of invaluable experience so it could be quite familiar when it’s your turn to be Earl,” he would tell him.
Who made the stupid rule that women couldn’t be Earl anyway? Why would her younger brother have a right to being Earl over her?
Teresa had always asked that question since she was little, never aloud, always in the small halls of her mind. She had asked her mother something like that once.
“Mother, if I was the only daughter, who would be the next Earl?”
Her mother was having one of her spells of good health. They weren’t close, never were. The Countess fell ill one time too many. Teresa always had something else she was chasing. Although Teresa wondered that despite her frequent illnesses, Arthur had managed to maintain a close relationship with their mother.
Arthur is always close to everyone.
Countess Eleano had looked at her with an amused gaze that day.
“Why would you ask that, Teresa?” she said.
“I just wanted to know because I don’t know any female Earl,” Teresa answered.
“But your brother is alive. And he’ll be the Earl; you don’t worry yourself about that,” the Countess answered.
“But I want to know.”
The Countess’ gaze changed from amusement to annoyance. When she spoke, her voice showed the distaste she had for the conversation they were having.
“Your brother is the next Earl, Teresa. You will grow up to become a beautiful young woman that eligible men would fall head over heels for. You will marry well and bear more sons and daughters than I have, don’t worry.”
“Well Mother,” Teresa said, staring at the rising ball of yellow as it moved into a completely clear portion of the sky, “You were very wrong. Here I am, an angry old spinster.”
Teresa ground her teeth. Her family was always skirting around that topic. No one had ever mentioned the topic of marriage to her in years.
They know that boat has sailed for me.
She had failed in that part of her life, the defining characteristic of any Englishwoman. She had noticed it a long time ago. People didn’t like her. It had continued as she grew. Not a lot of men showed interest; the good ones that did, fled very quickly. And she didn’t entertain commoners. What silliness – how could the daughter of an Earl marry a man who wasn’t a peer or gentry? It was pure madness.
Now she was an old spinster and had to put her energy into other things, something like being the Earl. She realised long ago that she could be the Earl ‘without being the Earl’. But she had long discovered that her brother was easily manipulated; all she needed to do was plot her steps carefully.
“Arthur is a soft, controllable young man who is easily led by his ridiculous emotions. Whoever heard of an emotional man?” Teresa said to herself.
She hated his saccharine reactions and the way he acted on impulse. Her parents seemed to have a blind eye to that, but she had noticed it long ago when they were young. When Rebecca started coming to their house, Arthur followed her like a sheepdog to sheep. Lacking his own initiative, he did what she did, and soon she had control over him.
Teresa smiled when she remembered her own reaction. She acted exactly the way she was meant to act. With anger and spite, showing Rebecca that she didn’t have the run of the house, but she had the run of Arthur and that proved to be enough. Slowly her favour in Arthur’s eyes started giving her a lot of clout in the house. The Countess, her own mother preferred Rebecca to her.
Teresa pressed her eyes in with her thumb and index finger, pushing back the tears that were starting to come.
Only weak people cry. And I am not weak.
That put paid to the daughterly affection she had for her mother; they were never that close anyway. Teresa didn’t think she could forgive her mother for showing favouritism to Rebecca over her. At first she didn’t notice, but she soon discovered that her mother preferred Rebecca’s presence to hers. And when she wanted something done, she called Rebecca.
“Do not support her, Arthur. I am her daughter,” she had told Arthur.
That day, the physician treating their mother had asked that a person follow him to the house down the street where he forgot their mother’s potion. He had stopped over there on his way to their house, forgetting the small vial and didn’t want to go and come back again. Their mother wanted someone she could trust to bring the vial. She told Rebecca to follow him, chaperoned by her maid of course.
“Why would she always send Rebecca and not me?”
Arthur had shaken his head that day.
Of course he would, it was Rebecca they were both talking about. He would support her.
“If she had asked you, would you go?” Arthur responded.
Teresa shook her head. That didn’t matter. She had to ask first to know.
“Mother has told you to do many things for her, Teresa. And you always refuse. Rebecca’s maid is free to follow her. Who will go with you? You’ve chased away all your maids,” Arthur said.
Teresa remembered how she had scoffed at his words. He had no point. He was a fool for love.
That was why she had not been sorry for what she did. Sometimes pangs of regret would come and hit her, but she brushed them aside. To get what she wanted, she needed to be the only one speaking into her brother’s ears. If she could achieve that, then she would be the Earl because Arthur would only do what she said.
He would be the puppet. She would be the one behind the seat, and sooner or later, everyone would come to her to gain favour. In that way, she could pick any man she wanted for marriage. But she needed to be the only one first.
She thought Rebecca was gone for good, but now she was back, and her brother, true to his foolish nature, had gone after her. Teresa couldn’t afford the wench getting her hooks into her brother once again. She needed her permanently away, and the best way was to get her brother to marry a weak, impressionable woman who would be no bother. He needed a wife that could offer no defence to Teresa’s manipulation.
Not a woman like Rebecca.
Right from their childhood, Rebecca had been bold and confident. Rebecca was mentally strong. She didn’t fold under pressure and would never allow Arthur to bend to her own demands. Rebecca was a woman with wiles of her own and would surely have Arthur under her thumb.
No, I can’t afford it. Arthur must marry a woman I can control.
There was a knock on her door, the triple-tap knock. Teresa looked at the door.
First Rebecca, then this stubborn old man.
“Come in, Victor,” she said, moving to sit on a soft sofa covered with a material with shaggy hairs.
Mr Victor came in and closed the door behind him.
“The Earl is not in his room, My Lady. A servant suggested the possibility of him going for an early morning hunt; I was inclined to agree,” Mr Victor said.
“He didn’t go for any hunt,” Teresa muttered.
“What did you say? I didn’t hear you, My Lady,” Mr Victor said.
“Don’t bother, Victor. You can go,” she said, flicking her hand towards the door.
She saw a wry smile creep into his wrinkled face as he turned. He slowly walked out of the room.
The toad-faced grandfather, he knows Arthur didn’t go for any hunt. I am sure he knows where he went.
Teresa turned angrily and stormed to the balcony. Just as she got there, she saw the gate open and saw Arthur ride into the estate. The stewards at the gate greeted him, and he stopped to talk to them. Teresa moved closer to the railings. She wanted him to see her.
After a short while of speaking with the stewards, Arthur continued his ride towards the house. He didn’t look up till he got right in front of the staircase. Then he raised his head and saw Teresa. He said nothing and looked straight into her eyes. Teresa made sure her displeasure was very apparent in her stare, but to her chagrin, Arthur gave no reaction. He dropped his head and handed the reins to the stable boy. Arthur walked straight into the house without looking up again.
Teresa shook her head. She couldn’t allow this to happen. She needed to act quickly. She needed him married off as soon as possible in order to get what she wanted.