Kitabı oku: «Silk And Seduction Bundle 2», sayfa 12

The morning dragged interminably. She tried to read a book, but it could not hold her attention. She cast it onto the sofa cushions, and trailed to the windows to gaze longingly towards the woods where she knew the boys were playing. She was going to have to find some kind of sedentary occupation to while away the months of her confinement, she realized, or she would go mad. Already, she was marking off the time until lunch would be served. And longing for the arrival of the mail.

It could not do any harm, surely, if she just went for a walk? The day was so mild. And, if she was not permitted to ride, at least she could go by the stables and visit Misty.

The prospect of getting out of the room that was beginning to feel like a cage, after only one morning, lifted her spirits no end. She paused to grab a shawl and drape it round her shoulders, so that nobody could accuse her of not taking proper care of herself, took an apple from the fruit bowl to console Misty for not being able to go out and get some exercise, and set off down the stairs.

She was going along the corridor that led past the estate offices, when one of the side doors flew open, and the earl emerged, looking thunderous.

‘What do you think you are doing down here?’

She had never seen him with so much colour in his face. Not that it made him look any healthier than normal.

‘I am just on my way to the stables,’ she said, tugging her shawl more tightly round her shoulders.

‘Thought you could sneak past me, did you? Flouting my authority by going riding though I have forbidden it!’ He bore down on her, his eyes glittering with rage. ‘Sly! Like all women! The minute your husband’s back is turned, you think you may do just as you please! But you won’t get away with it. I shall have the staff watching your every movement!’

It was a shock to see him act like this. Though Monty had described him as almost apoplectic with rage over a disagreement they’d had, she had assumed he must have been exaggerating.

‘No,’ she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone, and holding out the apple she had picked up for Misty, ‘I was just going to…’

‘The apple never falls very far from the tree, does it!’ he said, before she could explain she had no intention of going for a ride. ‘You are the product of the most notorious couple of my day. And you are just like them. Lascivious. Leaving trails of clothing all over the house. Luring your husband into the stables, so he can satisfy your itch in broad daylight!’

Midge was so shocked by the way the earl was berating her, the spittle flying from his mouth, that she simply backed away, open-mouthed. No wonder people put up with his cold, sarcastic moods, she thought as she fetched up against the wall, if crossing him could result in a scene like this.

‘Mildenhall is a fool if he thinks you will not find some way to amuse yourself while he is in London setting up a mistress. Sauce for the goose, that is what women like you say, is it not? Plotting to get one of the stable lads to stand in for your husband, are you?’

She gasped in outrage, but the earl gave her no chance to refute the wild accusation.

‘That is why I advised him only to marry a woman he could not possibly fall in love with. To spare him this sort of pain!’

He might just as well have struck her.

‘He is not,’ she cried, ‘setting up a mistress!’

The earl flung back his head and laughed. ‘Of course he is. Did you think a man like him could stomach staying down here, servicing a plain little baggage like you, when there are pretty women available in town? I told him so long as he married, and provided Shevington with an heir, I would frank his purchase of whatever woman he really wanted. Deserves his reward for doing his duty to the Claremont line,’ he finished on a sneer.

‘You are poisonous!’ she gasped. Even if all he said was true, to fling it in her face like this was downright cruel.

‘How dare you speak to me like that!’ he hissed. ‘Get back to your room!’ He pointed down the corridor, and Midge, frightened by the malevolence that burned in his eyes, fled like a startled rabbit.

She did not stop running till she was safely in her room with the door shut firmly behind her. The man was unhinged! She had always wondered how on earth he could treat Monty and the twins so unkindly. Now she wondered if it was this kind of irrational behaviour that had driven his third wife into those affairs she was famous for having. Or whether he had imagined them all in some fit of insane jealousy!

And as for what he had said about Monty’s reasons for leaving…they could not be true!

They just couldn’t!

And yet, had she not always wondered why he was so reluctant to stay in her bed all night? He had let her think it was on account of the nightmares, but the minute there was a suspicion she might be pregnant…oh! She sank to the sofa, covering her face with her hands. Had he always looked on making love with her as a performance of his duty to the Claremont line? He had certainly ceased performing the minute Dr Cottee had confirmed there was no need for him to bother any more! And now that he had got her pregnant, he was off to London to find a pretty woman as a reward for having done his duty to the family name.

No wonder Monty had protested so vigorously when she had suggested accompanying him to London! It would be harder to trawl for a pretty mistress with a pregnant wife in tow.

Not that it had ever stopped her father.

She sat up straight, wondering what on earth possessed her to make excuses for Monty, even as he was on the verge of being unfaithful to her. What kind of idiot appreciated her husband for his discretion in setting up his mistress?

One who had always known he was far too good for her. One who had gone into this marriage knowing he was never likely to fall in love with her. One who…was about to be sick!

She retreated to her bedroom and her chamber pot, and when the maid came up with her lunch tray, almost ordered the girl to just take it away. She was in no fit state to swallow a single mouthful.

Though she was glad she had not done so when the twins came in a short time later. They took one look at the loaded tray and began to help themselves to her untouched sandwiches, stuffing some into their mouths and some into their pockets for later.

How often must they have been on the receiving end of one of the earl’s tantrums? Many times, probably. She only had to think of the dread with which they had regarded him the day they had brought their pets into the house. No wonder they spent almost all their time out of doors or hobnobbing with the lower servants!

She tried to raise a smile for them, but it was an effort.

And the boys noticed.

‘We know you’re going to have a baby,’ said Tobe, his disdainful gaze flicking down to her stomach.

‘And that you don’t want us here any more,’ said Jem, resentfully.

‘Oh, no!’ She had not thought it was possible to feel any worse, but her heart sank as she realized the earl must have told them he was going to send them to school in such a cruel way that they believed it was some kind of punishment. She stretched out her hands, wanting to explain, but as one, they backed away from her.

‘We only came to pass on a message from that friend of yours.’

‘The one on the black horse.’

‘He came smash up to us in the bluebell clearing where we showed you the badger’s set.’

‘Asked where you were. Told us to tell you he wanted to see you. And that he’s staying at the Silent Woman down at Shevington Crossroads.’

‘And then he clapped his hand to his head and went a funny colour and kind of hunched over the horse’s mane.’

‘Think he was going to be sick.’

‘Anyway, we said we’d tell you he needed to see you, and we have.’

‘But we ain’t going to do you any more favours!’

‘We thought you were our friend!’ cried Tobe angrily.

‘I am…’ she protested, but it was too late. The pair of them had dashed from the room, slamming the door behind them. She buried her head in her hands again with a groan. The twins were all that made life at Shevington bearable. She had not expected they would give up their outdoor pursuits, to sit and keep her company. But now that the earl had turned them against her, they would go out of their way to avoid her. She would not see one friendly face, from one end of the day to the next.

When Cobbett arrived with the mail, she felt as though he had thrown her a lifeline. There were still people who cared about her. Her aunt corresponded regularly, and Rick wrote when he had time. Letters from Gerry were rare, and tended to come in batches, depending on the vagaries of shipping.

Today, only a single letter lay on the silver salver. She recognized the crabbed handwriting as that of her stepbrother Nick. It was with some surprise that she broke open the wafer. This was only the second time he had written since she had come to Shevington, and that had only been a polite little missive, in which he had expressed his gratification she had married so advantageously.

But the news he had for her this time dealt her such a blow, she did not know how she could bear it, coming as it did so swiftly behind everything else that had occurred that day.

Gerry was dead. Of a fever. Nick had written as soon as he received the news, but her stepbrother, it seemed, had already been dead for several weeks.

She could hardly take it in. How could Gerry be dead? She had sent him a letter only the day before!

She let Nick’s letter drift to the carpet as the horrible truth sank in. Gerry would never read that last letter she had written to him. She would never see him again.

His life was over.

No more promotions. No more adventurous tales to enthral his little sister.

No more Gerry.

Eventually her eyes focussed on the opulent room in which she was sitting.

Alone.

There was nobody with whom she could share her grief.

Nobody who cared a rap about how she felt.

Though she had tried so hard to fit in. She had thought she was making some headway, but today she had learned just how little any of them cared about her. Today, they had all turned their backs on her, one after the other.

She had known she did not belong in the place, right from the very first moment she had set eyes on the outside of the buildings! Right from the first moment…her eyes lighted on the hideous vase squatting on the low table by the fireplace. She could not believe she had gone to such lengths to save such an ugly piece of porcelain. Or to have worked so hard to ingratiate herself with a set of people who had all let her down so badly.

Leaping to her feet, she picked up the vase that seemed to represent all that was ugly about Shevington, raised it above her head and hurled it into the hearth with a wild cry of fury.

It shattered into dozens of pieces with a resounding crash that went some way to consoling her.

But it was not enough. Not nearly enough.

Gerry was dead. Buried in some far-off land. So far away she would never have a chance to so much as lay flowers on his grave.

Even if Monty and his father ever let her set foot outside the walls of Shevington Court again! For the earl had more or less threatened to keep her imprisoned here.

She could not stand it.

The walls felt as if they were closing in on her.

Tearing at the buttons to her high-necked morning dress, she ran to the door and flung it open, half expecting to find a guard posted outside. It was almost an anticlimax to find nobody there.

She lifted her chin and strode along the corridor to the stairs. There was nothing wrong with going for a walk if she wanted! Just let anyone try and stop her!

With her fists clenched firmly, she marched right out of the front door. In spite of the earl threatening to set his staff to watch her every move, she did not encounter a single soul as she ran round the side of the house and across the neatly mown lawns. She was in such a state that she scarcely knew where she was going. It was only when the acrid scent of crushed cow parsley assailed her nostrils that she realized she had left the formal gardens altogether and was entering the fringes of the woodland. And only then did it occur to her that what she needed was to reach some spot from which the walls of Shevington would be completely invisible.

She plunged through the bracken, ducking under low branches and skirting bramble thickets, until she reached a hazel coppice. Only then did she tilt back her head and let out the scream that had been building inside her since…since…she doubled over with grief. It was all of it, coming together that had so shattered her. Not just the news of Gerry’s death, but the earl’s attack, the twins defection and Monty’s un-faithfulness, all coming so swiftly, one after another.

The clearing echoed with the panicked alarm calls of the flurry of birds which had risen en masse when she had screamed.

Then desolate silence descended through the still leafless branches.

Reminding her that she was on her own.

If only Rick were here…but he was not. His duties had carried him to a foreign land.

But even if he were here, things would never be the same between them. Not now that she had married his friend. She would never be able to confide in him completely. Not if her concerns related to Monty.

Now there was nobody, she gasped, not one soul to whom she could turn for comfort.

Nobody who cared one way or the other…

Except…She went very still.

Stephen had followed her down here. He wanted to see her.

And he was her brother. She lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders. If there was a chance, no matter how slim, that this last communication from Stephen might lead to some form of reconciliation, then she had to take it. She needed to take it. She had only avoided meeting him up till now out of respect for Monty’s wishes. But what did his good opinion matter to her now?

He had deceived her and abandoned her…oh, very well, not deceived her. Not on purpose. It was her own fault if she had assumed his kindness and for-bearance meant anything.

But in the long run, she sniffed, it might have been better for her if he had not tried to be kind to her. At least then she might not have fallen in love with him. And then his haste to leave her to find a pretty mistress as compensation for doing his repulsive duty with her might not hurt so much that she no longer cared if Stephen did plan to harm her!

Wiping her nose on the long sleeve of her dress, she cast a quick glance about the coppice, then set off in the direction she believed Shevington village lay.

Chapter Eleven

Midge was breathless by the time she emerged from the belt of woodland that bordered the road, but pleased with herself for coming out not a quarter of a mile from Shevington Village. Even if she was a failure at everything else, there was no denying she had a good sense of direction!

It did not take long to find the inn, either, since Shevington was barely more than a handful of buildings clustered around the crossroads.

She grimaced at the inn sign, depicting a woman in Tudor dress, her severed head laying at her feet, then walked through an archway broad enough to admit mail coaches, into its bustling stable yard. From the crowd standing outside the office, and the two floors suggesting an abundance of rooms for hire, she deduced it held a strategic position on the routes between Dover and London.

She sidestepped the queue, and went directly to the man presiding behind the bar in the public coffee room.

‘Excuse me, but I believe you have a man staying here by the name of Stephen Hebden?’

The landlord gave her a withering look, which reminded her she was not wearing either a coat or bonnet. Her long-sleeved, high-necked gown had looked perfectly respectable when she had put it on that morning. But since then, she had torn open the top buttons, wiped her nose on the sleeve, soaked the hem dashing through long grass, and scooped up a considerable amount of foliage on her headlong flight through dense woodland.

‘Nobody by that name here,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I’ll do instead, darling.’ He leered, leaning over the bar, his beery breath gusting into her face.

Midge drew herself up to her full height, knowing her only defence would be her attitude.

‘How dare you speak to me like that,’ she snapped, imitating her aunt at her most frosty. ‘The man I am looking for is my brother. He sent word that he needed to see me urgently.’ She made a brief movement to indicate that very urgency accounted for the state of her clothes.

The landlord’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t s’pose by any chance this brother of yours has long, black hair and wears an earring? Looks like he could be a Gypsy?’

‘Yes! That’s him!’ she cried. All that mud and leaves stuck to her skirts had done some good after all. She obviously looked like the kind of person who lived outdoors.

‘Room four,’ the barman said, ‘up them stairs—’ he jerked his head to a narrow staircase that rose from a corner of the bar ‘—and along the corridor to the end. And I hope you’re going to be able to settle his shot,’ he added sourly, ‘if he sticks his spoon in the wall.’

She had not imagined Stephen could be that ill! Thank heaven she had come to him so soon after the twins had alerted her to his distress. Not, she admitted to herself guiltily, as she scurried across the bar and up the stairs, that it had been concern for him that had driven her here. But for whatever reason, she was here now, and she would do whatever she could to help.

She knocked gently on the last door at the end of the corridor, and when she got no reply, lifted the latch and tiptoed inside.

The curtains were drawn, making the chamber gloomy, but from the glimmer of light that spilled in over her shoulder from the passage, she could make out the form of a man sprawled out on top of the bed.

He was only wearing his breeches. And holding his crumpled shirt over his face.

‘Stephen,’ she whispered, shutting the door softly behind her and making her way across to the bed. From a new tension that seized his body, she could tell he knew she was there, but he made no sound. She reached out her hand to check for fever. But before she could touch him, his hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist.

‘What do you want with me?’ he snarled through clenched teeth, as though even the act of speaking caused him pain.

‘To help you if I can,’ she replied. He moaned, and let her go, pressing the shirt more firmly over his eyes. ‘I know you probably only came here to cause me trouble…’

A ragged laugh escaped his pale lips. ‘I am already paying for what I planned to do to you. You can leave now.’

Instead of leaving, Midge went to the bell pull and tugged hard. She did not care what he thought of her. She would not abandon a chance acquaintance in an inn where nobody cared for anything but how his bill was to be paid, let alone her only true blood brother.

‘Tell me what you need,’ she insisted, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed.

‘Nothing,’ he spat, his eyes still fast shut. ‘Nobody.’

Tentatively, she laid her hand on his shoulder. His body was warm, but not burning as though he had a fever.

‘I can tell your head hurts,’ she said. He could not bear to open his eyes, though he had deliberately darkened the room, nor speak above a hoarse whisper. ‘I am going to order some coffee,’ she said briskly. She did not usually have much sympathy for men who drank themselves into such a state. But he had nobody else to take care of him.

And there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Nobody else who needed her.

When the chambermaid arrived, she ordered coffee and some oil of lavender so that she could bathe Stephen’s temples with it. The maid looked past her at Stephen’s prone body.

‘How you plan paying for it?’

Midge took a breath, and counted to three before answering. ‘I am Viscountess Mildenhall. I am certain that, should my brother not have the money on his person, a bill presented to the estate will be settled without question!’

The maid pursed her lips. ‘Starting up again is it? Only ‘twas the countess herself used to meet her fancy men here before.’ She smirked, then lowered her voice, leaning in as though sharing a confidence. ‘If’n you don’t want this getting about, dearie, you need to bring the readies next time.’ She sauntered off down the corridor, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Midge shut the door, appalled by the chambermaid’s assumption she was here to embark on a clandestine affair, and to learn that the twins’ mother had, indeed, taken lovers. In this very inn! When it was so close to Shevington Court. And so very busy. She must have been determined to inflict as much pain and humiliation upon the earl as she possibly could.

Though, having endured that unwarranted attack this morning, Midge grudgingly admitted she could actually understand what had driven her to take such a drastic form of revenge.

‘You have ruined your reputation in this locale by coming to me,’ grated Stephen from the bed. She turned round, to see him staring at her, an unfathomable expression on his face.

She shrugged. The locals would have seen Monty’s carriage passing by this inn on his way to London. They might very well assume she had taken the first opportunity after her husband’s departure to fly to the bed of her lover.

The earl, she grimaced, most certainly would!

‘I do not care,’ she said defiantly. The earl had already decided she was wanton, without a shred of evidence. Accused her of crimes she would never have dreamed of committing, judging her on hearsay about her parents and condemning her to solitary confinement in her room.

What was one more crime, to add to all the other charges? She knew she was completely innocent!

‘You are my brother. And that is all that matters to me.’

He stared up at her, his eyes dark with suspicion and hostility. But presently, he shut them, and said, ‘Sometimes, I get some relief if my sister runs her fingers through my hair.’

Midge crept back to the bed, her heart bounding with hope. She stood quite still for a few seconds, gazing down at the proud, shuttered face, and then, taking all her courage in her hands, set her fingers to his temples, and swept them firmly across his scalp to the crown of his head. He heaved a sigh that was almost a groan. But he did not push her hands away this time. Again and again she ran her fingers through his dark, luxuriant hair, until she saw his great scarred shoulders sag into the pillows, as though he was letting go of some oppressive weight. It was only then that the import of his words struck her. He had another sister. One with whom he was on intimate terms. One that he went to, when he was ill.

‘My sister,’ he had said. Not ‘my other sister.’

She stopped working on his scalp, imagining a girl who looked just like him. For somehow, she knew this other sister of whom he spoke came from his mother’s people. The people he felt he belonged to. Else why would he take such pains to emphasize his origins? He could easily have cut his hair fashionably short. Nor was there any need to sport such a large, showy gold hoop in his left ear. Or wear clothes that were so colourful and cut in such an exotic style.

Stephen carried on breathing steadily, and she saw that the furrow between his brows was gone. He was asleep. She pulled his shirt from his slackened grasp, shook it out and draped it over the back of a chair, wondering if there had been anyone to do as much for Gerry in his last days.

The thought of Gerry sent an immense wave of grief crashing over her. And now that there was nothing more for her to do and nowhere else to run, she found the urge to break down and weep impossible to withstand any longer. She clenched her fists, and went over to the window which had a broad sill, upon which several frayed and rather greasy cushions were scattered. She took one and sat down, drew up her knees and buried her face in it. If she could no longer contain herself, the least she could do was muffle the sound of her sobs, so that she did not disturb Stephen. From time to time, she raised her head long enough to glance across at him. But nothing roused him. Not even the return of the chambermaid with the coffee, though not the lavender oil. Midge shrugged fatalistically. Sleep was probably the best remedy for whatever ailed him anyway.

She gulped down the coffee herself, between sobs, then drooped her way back to the window seat. She meant to keep watch over Stephen, but she could hardly keep her eyes open. Though that was not surprising considering she had hardly slept a wink the night before. And today, instead of taking her customary nap to make up for it, she had spent the afternoon smashing pottery, hiking across country and providing landlords and chambermaids food for gossip. And the bout of weeping had drained her of what little energy she’d had left.

She rearranged one or two of the cushions to pillow her head, and settled into a more comfortable position, feeling like a dish rag wrung out and hung limply over a line.

And woke with a start when Stephen reached over her, to yank the curtains open.

‘Good morning,’ he said dryly.

Midge rubbed her eyes, then winced at the pain that shot down her neck when she tried to move her head. The cushions she had so carefully arranged the night before were scattered all over the floor, and she had woken with her face wedged against the windowsill.

‘Morning?’ she repeated groggily. It seemed impossible, yet the sluggish grey light of a new day was definitely oozing through the grimy windows.

Stephen stalked to the washstand, poured water into a basin, and nonchalantly began to wash himself. Her shocked eyes roamed his naked torso, her heart welling up with pity. She had seen battle scars on her husband’s body, so she recognized the suffering that all those criss-crossed silvery lines represented. If she had not known better, she would have thought he had been a soldier. A bullet had most definitely caused the ragged wound on his shoulder. It was so very like the one that Monty bore.

‘Why did you come?’ said Stephen, his back still towards her as he reached for a silver-handled razor.

Midge did not pause to think about her answer. She had been bereft and alone, and he had sent for her. ‘I have nobody else.’

‘What of your wealthy husband?’ Stephen sneered, wielding the razor with frighteningly lethal speed.

‘Gone to London.’

He dipped the razor in the water, rinsing away the soap.

‘And what now?’

‘I suppose,’ she said hesitantly, ‘you wish me to leave now you are well again. Though…’ she pushed at one of the cushions with her toes ‘…you came down here to see me. Did you not? You must have had some reason for seeking me out.’

Oh, how she wished he would say he had regretted causing trouble for her at the wedding. And that, because he was her brother, he wanted them to be on good terms again!

But his face, as he turned to her, was harsh, not repentant.

‘I wanted to know about what was said at the wedding.’ When she frowned in confusion, he said impatiently, ‘About your mother. That she told your stepfather to search for me. That when she heard I had died in the fire…’ He turned abruptly, snatched up his shirt and dragged it over his head.

‘She made me think she cared for me,’ he snarled, jerkily doing up his shirt. ‘That she thought of me as her son. And then she tossed me out like a piece of rubbish as soon as my father died!’

Midge leapt to her feet. ‘She did not! When our father was murdered, she became very ill. Her father, my Grandpapa Herriard, came and took her back to his house to look after her. He was the one who sent you away. By the time she was well enough to come to the nursery to see us all, it was too late. You weren’t there any more.’

She sat back down abruptly, her head spinning alarmingly.

‘She begged him to tell her where you were,’ she said quietly, leaning back and drawing in deep breaths to try to stave off the faintness. ‘But he would not!’

‘You remember all that, do you?’ He sneered. ‘What were you, about four years old?’

She shook her head, closing her eyes. ‘I only remember flashes of things from back then. Being lifted out of my bed in the middle of the night, mother weeping, and then the misery of the nursery at Mount Street. Missing my mother, and—’ she opened her eyes and looked straight at him ‘—you.’ Stephen’s absence had left a great gap in her life. A gap that nobody else had really ever been able to fill ever since.

‘You were the one I always ran to,’ she said sadly. ‘I remember that.’ She also remembered trotting after Hugh Bredon’s sons in the same way she had used to follow after her adored Stephen. And being shocked to find her new big brothers did not automatically pick her up and cuddle her until she felt better. It had seemed like a long time before Rick had gradually begun to respond to her need for affection. Gerry had followed his oldest brother’s example, eventually. Though Nick…

She pushed those unfavourable comparisons away, returning to the matter at hand. ‘And then you were gone. And father was gone. And I was not allowed to go near mother—’

‘At least she kept you!’ he spat. ‘Have you any idea what it was like for me, being sent to that place for children nobody wants? They told me I should be grateful for being taken in and fed, since my parents and friends had deserted me. Grateful! And every time I ran away and tried to get home, somebody would drag me back, and they would whip me in front of all the other boys and make me wear a red letter R pinned to my jacket!’