The Wild Child

by Mary Jo Putney

  After a hard look at his conscience, he replied, “The danger is real, Meriel. I wish it weren’t, because duress is a poor way to start a marriage.”

  He got out of bed and joined her at the window, resting his hands on her shoulders as he gazed over her head. “I’d much rather persuade you with sweet reason and sweeter kisses, and I’m arrogant enough to think that in time you would decide becoming a wife would not be so very bad.” He kissed her lightly on the temple.

  She sighed. “I would prefer to be your mistress.”

  He smiled wryly, glad that neither of her chaperons was around to hear such a shocking comment. “That isn’t one of the available choices, Meriel. Your uncle may already be searching for you, possibly with a warrant for my arrest.”

  Shivering, she crossed her arms on her chest. “So I must choose between the devil I know and the devil I don’t know.”

  He wondered which of those was him. “I will sign a marriage settlement that leaves control of your property with you and your trustees so that I can’t plunder your inheritance, if that’s what you fear.”

  “You offered that once before,” she said without inflection.

  Her tone made him realize that even more than wealth, she cherished the freedom of her old life. Recognizing what must be done, he said, “I give you my solemn word that if you ever decide you don’t want me at Warfield, you have only to ask me to leave, and I will go. I will not claim any rights over either your fortune or your body.”

  She lifted her head and gazed at the moon, her expression cool and remote. “So you are willing to become my defender, and demand nothing of me in return?”

  “Yes.” Even though some future whim of hers could leave him alone, not free to seek another wife because he was bound to a woman who no longer wanted him. It was a bleak prospect, yet he could not abandon her to her uncle’s relentless sense of duty.

  She swallowed, throat flexing like a silver column in the moonlight. “Very well, Dominic. I will marry you.”

  It was what he had wanted desperately. Why, then, did her acceptance leave him aching with sadness?

  Chapter 31

  Meriel awoke the next morning in her original bed. Renbourne must have carried her back after she fell asleep. So very conventional. But perhaps he was right. She’d lived an unconventional life for years, and now she was paying the price.

  Worse, Renbourne might also pay a heavy price. She had not realized, until he mentioned the topic in passing, that he might be in serious trouble for aiding her. Lord Grahame had been furious with him—very likely he would try to have Renbourne arrested for “kidnapping” an heiress. Or worse. She had a swift, horrific image of a duel, and Renbourne’s body bleeding on the ground.

  No.

  She climbed from the bed, expression set. She had drawn Renbourne into danger, and now she must do whatever was necessary to resolve the situation. Her days as a wild child of nature, who understood more than anyone realized, were over. For better or worse, she was now part of the wider world. The sooner she learned its ways, the better for everyone who had generously come to her aid.

  Her own garments had been ruined by her stay in the asylum, so Jena had borrowed clothing from a housemaid. After washing up, Meriel donned the coarse shift and faded blue dress without enthusiasm. The garments hung on her, for even the smallest Holliwell Grange maid was obviously much more robust than she.

  Worse than the dress were crude stockings and slippers. With a sigh, she put them on, for soon she would be going places where bare feet would not be practical. The footwear would have been welcome in Bladenham, for the flagstone floors had been wretchedly cold, especially for someone who couldn’t warm herself by movement.

  Jena had also provided a brush and comb, so Meriel put her hair in order. Then, as respectable as she could manage, she went downstairs to join the world of normal people.

  Renbourne and the Ameses were in the dining room eating breakfast, and Kamal also. Though he was respected at Warfield, he was still considered a servant. At Holliwell, a less grand establishment, he was being treated as an honored guest. Perhaps that was because Jena and the general had lived in India and saw him differently.

  When she entered the dining room door, everyone turned to look at her. She stopped, flushing, and remembered why she had chosen to avoid society. Then Jena rose from the table with a smile. “It’s hard to believe how much improved you look, Meriel. You’re just in time to join the war council.”

  A good thing she had come down, since it was her life being discussed. After choosing a soft-boiled egg and a hot muffin from the sideboard, Meriel took the cup of tea Jena poured and sat down opposite Renbourne.

  He smiled at her with intimate warmth. “I’ve just finished the whole story of how we came to show up on the Ameses’ doorstep last night.” He watched her carefully. “I also told them that we’ve decided to marry.”

  Ames frowned. “That’s the best solution, but is it your wish, Lady Meriel?”

  The general wasn’t sure whether or not she was mentally competent, she realized. It was time to jump another fence. She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “So you can talk!” Jena said with delight. “We must have a good gossip soon. I can chatter for two, but it will be more fun if you answer.”

  Meriel glanced at Kamal and saw amusement in his dark eyes. He was not surprised that she was capable of speech. Had he always known how much of her apparent witlessness was from choice? Probably, yet he had let her be as she wished. One could not ask for a better friend.

  Renbourne looked relieved, as if he’d been half expecting her to change her mind. Breaking open a muffin, he said, “Obviously the sooner we marry, the better. The question is where. We could go to London and get a special license, or travel to Scotland, where we can be married without waiting. From here, Scotland isn’t much farther than London, so I think that’s the best choice.”

  Jena shook her head doubtfully. “A Gretna Green marriage carries a stigma that you’ll never live down.”

  “It would also reinforce the appearance that you’re a fortune hunter, and Lady Meriel is a helpless victim,” the general added. “London would be better.”

  Dominic hesitated. “London is a dirty, smelly, noisy place at the best of times. It will seem far worse to someone who has lived for many years in the country.”

  Heads turned to Meriel, and there was a murmur of agreement. They all thought she was incapable of surviving the rigors of the city.

  Before Meriel could offer her own opinion, the general raised one hand. “No more discussion. You may borrow my carriage, but I don’t want to know which destination you choose. As a magistrate, I must tell the truth if Grahame comes and asks me if I know where the pair of you are. Better not to know.”

  “It’s very good of you to help us, General Ames,” Renbourne said soberly.

  “You saved Jena. I will not see another girl locked wrongly in a madhouse.” The general’s eagle gaze went to Meriel. “But my aid is conditional on further speech with Lady Meriel. When you’ve finished eating, my dear, walk with me in the garden.”

  It was an order, not a suggestion. Meriel’s muffin suddenly tasted like sawdust. Now that she had officially become a rational being, people wanted to talk to her. Mostly they wanted to tell her what to do. But there was no retreating now. Washing the last of her muffin down with tea, she said, “Very well.”

  She gave Renbourne a darkling glance, intending to convey that she did not wish him to completely rearrange her life in her absence, then went outside with General Ames. She remembered him from her family’s visit to Cambay, and even then he’d made her nervous. Like her uncle Grahame, he had a steely energy that made her want to fade quietly into the shrubbery.

  Perhaps sensing her nerves, at first he strolled in silence, a silver-headed cane in one hand. Though the garden was only a few acres, it was well laid out and carefully tended, with winding paths designed to make the area appear larger than it was. Even the
kitchen garden pleased the eye, with neat beds and plump produce.

  The path came to a stone wall espaliered with fruit trees. The general stopped and studied the ripening peaches on the first espalier. “When you came to Cambay with your parents, you were an intrepid child on a white pony. More than a year later, you returned looking like a waxen doll. Though I hoped you would recover in time, when I retired here to Holliwell the county was rife with stories of the mad Lady Meriel.” He looked at her askance. “Now you are a young lady on the verge of marriage. How do all those different Meriels go together?”

  She frowned, unsure how to answer. “All are me.”

  “Do you remember the attack at Alwari?”

  She gave him a narrow-eyed glance. “Why?”

  His jaw tightened. “I’ve never forgiven myself for the fact that your parents died so close to Cambay. Only a day’s travel away. They should have been safe so near a major British cantonment, but they weren’t. As commanding officer, I felt responsible.”

  Did men always feel responsible for everything? Apparently. She thought, chilled, of gunshots and flames and screaming. “The raiders knew exactly what they did. They would not have been easily stopped.”

  Ames ground his cane into the turf. “We investigated, of course. Apparently the attackers were bandits unofficially sanctioned by the princely state of Kanphar. The Maharajah of Kanphar allowed the bandits refuge in his hill country. In return, they didn’t attack his people, and he received part of their loot. Naturally the maharajah denied that—butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth—but it’s devilish odd that you turned up in Kanphar’s palace. He claimed you were a gift from another ruler, and that he sent you to Cambay as soon as he realized you were English. Was that true?”

  She shook her head. “I was taken directly to the Kanphar zenana.”

  Ames scowled. “I wanted to march in and annex the blasted place, but we had no proof, and there were political reasons for accepting Kanphar’s explanations.” He stabbed the cane into the turf again. “A pack of damned lies. I had to order your uncle Grahame to stay away from Kanphar. He’d acted as liaison to the maharajah’s court, but after your parents died, he wanted to go in and torch the palace. A good thing he had to return to England to take up his duties, or he might have started a war.”

  An elusive thought shimmered in Meriel’s mind like a silver fish, then disappeared. When she tried to recapture it, she came up with a faint memory of her two uncles taking custody of her at a London hotel. She’d barely been aware of them, preferring to play with the flowers Kamal had bought for her. After months on shipboard, she had yearned for the scent and feel of greenery.

  The general began to walk along the path that paralleled the stone wall. “You’re sure you want to marry young Renbourne?”

  She had said so earlier, hadn’t she? Not only did people want to talk—they asked the same questions over and over. “You think him unworthy?”

  “I’ve commanded a great many young men in my time, and I can tell when one is sound.” The general picked a daisy from a vibrant clump. “Renbourne has character and honor, and he obviously loves you. But while his birth is respectable, his fortune is vastly inferior to yours. Does that bother you?”

  “Why can a rich man marry a poor woman with little comment, but not the reverse?” she asked dryly.

  “Good point. Maybe because rich young orphan girls seem in need of protection.” With a hint of smile, he presented her with the daisy. “Or because a young girl’s sweet self is considered dowry enough.”

  She sniffed, thinking it more likely that society considered it natural law for a man to support his wife, and was uncomfortable when that was reversed. Such nonsense. “Why do you question the match?”

  “Renbourne will take care of you well.” Ames coughed uncomfortably. “But this is very sudden. You’ve had a sheltered life. In marriage…well, a wife has duties. You’re very young….”

  She blinked, astonished. “You doubt I can perform my wifely duties?”

  The general’s leathery face colored. “You don’t have a mother, after all. Perhaps Jena should talk to you.”

  Meriel wanted to burst into laughter. So this fierce old general was concerned with her virgin innocence. She was tempted to say that she had already found “marital duties” much to her liking, and it was Renbourne who had needed protection from her, not the reverse. Though the previous night, after she had accepted his proposal, he had carried her back to his bed and demonstrated exactly how masterful he could be when his conscience was no longer chiding him….

  Giving herself a mental shake, she said gravely, “I am not so young as I appear, General Ames, and have lived much with nature.”

  Eager to relinquish the topic, he nodded brusquely. “As long as you understand what you are getting into.”

  They reached a fork in the path. When the general turned left, on the branch that curved back to the house, Meriel said, “I wish to walk more.”

  He hesitated. “Don’t go too far. I expect that Renbourne will want to be off very soon. I need to order the arrangements.”

  Without even a semblance of good-bye, she headed down the right-hand path. Rather desperately, she needed to be alone.

  Chapter 32

  Meriel followed the flagstone path on a rambling route that led through lush banks of flowers. Just beyond a pleasantly shaded wooden bench, the path ended in a circular area defined by high box hedges. Inside were borders of roses, and a gently weathered stone fountain of a small boy holding a dolphin.

  With a sigh, she flopped onto the grass that surrounded the fountain. Less than an hour of being normal, and already she had tired of it. Defiantly she pulled off slippers and stockings so that she could feel the cool, living grass under her feet. Ahhh, heaven.

  She lay back full length on the soft turf and idly watched a pair of small white butterflies dancing around each other in mad abandon, flying higher and higher until they soared far above the hedges. Nature was in a mating frame of mind.

  The gentle plash of water from the dolphin’s mouth into the pool below eased the tension that had been building inside her. She must become stronger, or the demands of the world would overwhelm her. Was normality worth it?

  Perhaps not…but Renbourne was. Memory of the tenderness and passion between them the night before made her shiver despite the warm sun. Being with him felt so right. Though she had lived with little or no human closeness for most of her life, now that she had experienced it, she didn’t want to let it go. A pity that he and she couldn’t be together without marriage, but from the way everyone acted, she was resigned to the fact that he must be right about that.

  She was reluctantly thinking about returning to the house when she heard the sound of voices. A man and woman, coming toward her. As the voices became clearer, she recognized Jena and Kamal. She sat up on the grass and frowned at her footwear. No, she’d stay barefoot for a while.

  Jena’s voice said, “It’s a lovely morning. Let’s sit on the bench for a while.”

  Meriel heard the creak of wood as two bodies settled on the bench just outside the fountain garden. She peered through a small gap in the hedge. The bench was less than ten feet away, so she could see Jena and Kamal clearly. Though the two were at opposite ends of the bench, she sensed an interesting awareness between them.

  If she were a real lady, she would announce her presence. Not yet being a lady, she toyed with the daisy the general had given her, hoping they would go away.

  Jena tilted her face up, absorbing the sun’s rays. “After being in the asylum, I take nothing for granted. Everything seems precious. Fresh air. Sunshine. The freedom to come and go as I please.”

  “You would not have liked an Indian zenana,” Kamal said in his deep voice. “For women who lived in one, there was sunshine and comfort, but little freedom.”

  “I have visited women in zenanas. I would go mad in such a place.” After a silence, Jena turned her head to Kamal. “From our di
scussions, it is clear that you are an educated man. Surely you could have achieved high rank in your own country. Why were you willing to leave your home for a distant land?”

  Kamal hesitated, as if wondering how to answer. “I had achieved high rank, and it meant a life of war. Then I took Lady Meriel to Cambay, and was asked if I would escort her and her chaperon back to England. I realized fate was offering me a chance to live a life of peace.” So softly the words were almost inaudible, he added, “And penance.”

  Meriel studied his calm profile, fascinated. How could she not have known this about him? But she had never thought to ask questions, for Kamal had been so much a part of her life. She would as soon have questioned the rain or the wind.

  Jena asked, “Do you ever regret coming to England?”

  He smiled. “There is nothing more peaceful than a garden. I chose the right path.”

  “I’m glad.” Jena paused, then said, “Did you know my mother was Hindu? I am as much Indian as English.”

  “I had wondered.” Kamal studied her face. “Jena is a Hindu name, and your heritage is suggested in your coloring and your features.”

  “I think my mixed blood was part of the reason my husband treated me so badly,” she said brittlely. “Morton didn’t know I was half-Indian when we married. Not that I lied—it just didn’t seem important. After he learned the truth, it was as if…as if he considered me no longer fully human. And not only was I a mongrel, but I defied him! Easy to condemn such a wife to a madhouse.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kamal said quietly. “The world is too often a cruel place.”

  Jena brushed back her dark hair with fingers that weren’t quite steady. “I’m not sorry now that I am free. I am rid of Morton, and will not make such a mistake again.”

  “One is stronger for mistakes.”

  She laughed. “Then I should be capable of lifting mountains!”