Someone to Wed

by Cheryl Holt

  Jacob had been home for just a few days. How had he grown so cordial with the little strumpet? Why would he have considered it? Had he no regard for Roxanne and how she might view such a blatant amour?

  Miss James was very pretty, and with her being so exotic in her habits, Roxanne could appreciate that he’d be enticed. There was no doubt that his manly interest had been piqued.

  After an annoying bout of flirting, Miss James finally left. Roxanne lost sight of them, but she avidly pondered the encounter, struggling to deduce what it indicated. Should she be concerned about it?

  She couldn’t decide. She was about to betroth herself to Jacob, and she wasn’t so naïve that she’d expect him to be faithful, but she wouldn’t tolerate carnal mischief occurring right under her nose. No wife should have to.

  Surely he must realize how disrespectful that would be, but if he didn’t, she couldn’t mention it to him. So what to do?

  Her anger flared. She was very possessive, and if Miss James imagined she could seduce Jacob without consequence, Roxanne would have to set her straight. And Miss James wouldn’t like to learn how ruthless Roxanne could be.

  A knock sounded, which was a very odd occurrence, and Joanna froze. She was in the rear of the house, tidying up her workroom, but not particularly busy, and she wondered who had arrived.

  It was rare when she had a visitor. Most neighbors requesting her assistance stopped her when she was in the village. The lane running near the cottage was a sufficient distance away that she couldn’t hear a carriage passing by, and the path outside was hidden by foliage. Anyone who’d traveled in a vehicle had to stop and walk the rest of the way. A horse could be ridden down the path, but a carriage wouldn’t fit.

  Her maid had already left for the day, and Clara was at school, so there was no one to answer the summons. She sighed and shouted, “Hold on! I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She removed her apron and headed to the door, and just as she reached for the latch, the knock sounded again. This time, it was more impatient. She smoothed her features, wanting to look welcoming and kind, when she wasn’t feeling very spry.

  She opened the door, and when she realized the identity of her guest, she couldn’t completely conceal her consternation.

  “Hello, Miss Ralston,” she said to the Captain’s fiancée and cousin. “I must admit I’m surprised to have you call on me. What brings you by?”

  “Your residence is so difficult to find that it could be located up on the moon.”

  “It’s an old gamekeeper’s lodge,” Joanna explained, “where men watched for poachers.”

  “It appears absolutely wretched to me. How can you stand these dark woods? Don’t you worry you might be attacked by wolves?”

  Joanna chuckled. “As far as I’m aware, there are no more wolves in England.”

  “How about wicked elves then? It seems exactly the sort of spot where they would make mischief you couldn’t deflect.”

  “I’m sure there are no elves either. What did you need? How may I help you?”

  “I’m told you have private consultations. I should like one.”

  Joanna should have declined, but she wouldn’t antagonize the awful woman. Miss Ralston had swiftly garnered a reputation as a harpy. People crossed her at their peril.

  “I’m happy to talk to you,” Joanna said. “You can tell me what aid you seek, and we’ll discover if I can supply it. I may not be able to furnish what you’re hoping.”

  “Your comment is perfectly ludicrous. Without knowing my mission, how can you be so confident you’ll fail me?”

  Joanna nodded. “That’s a very good question. Please come in.”

  She pulled the door wide and stepped back. Miss Ralston marched in as if she owned the place, and her meticulous gaze swept over the parlor, assessing every chattel, as if she was cataloguing the value so she could sell them later.

  Joanna gestured to the sofa. Miss Ralston sat down, then Joanna seated herself on a chair. She couldn’t imagine Miss Ralston’s purpose, and she wasn’t about to start the conversation. She was adept at waiting, at letting the other party apprise her of the situation.

  Miss Ralston was no different. “I expect this chat to be confidential. You will not mention that I was here. Nor will you reveal what we discussed.”

  “No, I won’t. You have my word.”

  “You’re treating Margaret Howell who will soon be my sister-in-law.”

  “I am.”

  “For melancholia and fevers.” Joanna didn’t reply, unwilling to provide specifics, and Miss Ralston said, “She speaks highly of you.”

  “I’m flattered. I’ll have to thank her.”

  “She brags about how you’ve improved her condition. Are you a trained apothecary? You’re a female, so how could you have obtained such a skill?”

  “The women in my family are healers, and we’ve developed many recipes that are beneficial. I share them with those who are feeling poorly.”

  Miss Ralston scoffed in a derogatory way. “Are you a gypsy? Is that how you acquired your tricks?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m merely supporting myself and my young niece through diligent effort—and with no man in the picture.”

  “I’m dubious about your claims of modest endeavor. The housemaids insist you cast spells.”

  “I can’t fathom where they’d get that notion. I just grow herbs and brew them into curative tonics.”

  “They also insist you dispense magic charms.”

  “No. I don’t believe in magic, and I have no idea how it works.”

  Miss Ralston frowned, so clearly, Joanna wasn’t giving the correct answers.

  There were many enchantments she could perform, but she would never display any of them for Miss Ralston. If she gleaned the slightest information about Joanna, she’d use it to Joanna’s detriment.

  Plus, she was positive Miss Ralston would like to engage in some ill-wishing, but Joanna would never direct negative energy toward anyone. Life was hard enough without the added burden of harmful thoughts being piled on.

  “Don’t be coy with me.” Miss Ralston clucked her tongue with offense. “I should like to purchase a potion.”

  “What type of potion?”

  “There is a fiend vexing me, and I should like him to vanish, but he refuses to disappear. I would be delighted to spur him along.”

  Joanna could barely keep from blanching. She hoped Miss Ralston wasn’t trying to be rid of the Captain! She wasn’t even betrothed to him yet.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t make a person disappear. I simply birth babies and distribute tonics to people who are sick. I have no mysterious abilities.”

  “I’m certain you’re lying. How much would you charge for a spell to be cast? I’ll pay double your price.”

  “I have no price for such a thing, and this isn’t about Captain Ralston, is it? He’s my benefactor, and I would never consider bad behavior that involved him.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake. It’s not Captain Ralston. He’s about to be my husband. No, this is a snake in the grass who’s overstayed his welcome. I am a woman who is gravely in need of help, and you help women all the time. Why won’t you assist me?”

  Joanna wondered who Miss Ralston detested so vehemently, and she would worry about him. She wondered too what it would take to persuade the horrid shrew to leave.

  Miss Ralston was growing impatient, and she stuck out her hand. “Can you read palms? Surely it won’t kill you to admit to that small talent.”

  Joanna hesitated for an eternity, then she clasped Miss Ralston’s wrist, being careful their palms didn’t connect. There was no detail about Miss Ralston that she wanted disclosed, and she couldn’t forget how the Captain’s cards had shown he wouldn’t be marrying her. Joanna had to be wary lest she divulge a hint of that dicey news.

  She scrutin
ized the appropriate lines, then asked, “Is there any topic in particular you were anxious to have addressed?”

  “Will I have a long life?”

  “Yes,” Joanna fibbed, figuring she would falsify through the whole appointment.

  “Will I be happy?”

  “Mostly. You can’t be happy constantly. Fate doesn’t let our paths unfold without occasional difficulties.”

  “How many husbands will I have?”

  Joanna didn’t see any. “Two.”

  “How many children?”

  Without thinking, she said, “Well, you’ve already had the one, and I—”

  Miss Ralston yanked away. “What are you talking about? I’ve never been married, and I have no children. What sort of charlatan are you?”

  Joanna was rattled by what had been exposed, and she inhaled slowly, determined to calm her raging pulse. “I was probably wrong. I don’t perform readings that often, and obviously, I’m out of practice. Would you like me to look again?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve found out what I came to discover, which is that you are a fraud, but I wouldn’t like it to spread that I’m ungrateful for any service provided to me.” She opened her reticule and placed a coin on the table.

  “You don’t have to pay me,” Joanna insisted. “I haven’t really done anything.”

  “That has to be the truest words you’ve ever spoken.”

  Miss Ralston stood, so Joanna stood too. Joanna was very petite, and Miss Ralston was quite statuesque. She towered over Joanna, so she felt vulnerable to attack. Joanna never bowed down or cowered, so the irksome sentiment was annoying.

  “Since I’ve revealed your failings,” Miss Ralston said, “I am duty-bound to tell you that you will suspend your visits to Margaret. She’s about to be my sister-in-law, and when her mood is so desolate, it would be easy for a swindler to take advantage of her. I demand you break off contact. Do it however you like, but do it immediately.”

  “I will,” Joanna lied. She would behave as Margaret Howell requested, and Miss Ralston’s wishes wouldn’t be considered in the conclusion that was chosen.

  “I shouldn’t have to meet with you about this again. We don’t need you inflicting yourself on the gullible wretches at the manor. If you persist, I’ll have to confer with Captain Ralston about the wisdom of your residing on the estate. Don’t make me, for I can guarantee you won’t like the ending I orchestrate.”

  “I understand.”

  Miss Ralston whipped away and left, and Joanna followed her out. She blew out a heavy breath, hating that she’d been threatened and hating too that her presence would cause problems at the manor.

  Mrs. Howell wouldn’t agree to have Joanna’s visits cease, and there was the party on Saturday night to which she’d been invited. If she attended after Miss Ralston had warned her away, they’d become enemies. Yet if she didn’t attend, the Captain would demand to be apprised as to the reason, and she didn’t suppose he’d like to hear about Miss Ralston’s edict.

  What a quagmire!

  She loitered on the stoop, observing as Miss Ralston stomped away. As she reached the gate, Clara was skipping down the path toward the cottage. It was too early for her to be home from school, and Joanna frowned, curious as to why she’d been dismissed.

  Clara saw Miss Ralston, and she stopped and stared. Miss Ralston stared too, and as the pair came face to face, the eeriest pall settled over the forest. For an instant, it felt as if the world had quit spinning on its axis so the universe could note their encounter.

  Joanna hadn’t noticed it previously, but Miss Ralston and Clara looked exactly alike: white-blond hair, coal-black eyes, a willowy physique. They were so similar that they might have been mother and daughter.

  It was the black eyes that linked them the most. Many women had blond hair, but they rarely had such dark eyes. It was a striking feature that was very unusual.

  Clara broke the awkward interval. “Hello, ma’am.”

  Miss Ralston didn’t respond to Clara’s greeting. Her tone sharp and rude, she simply said, “Who are you?”

  Clara was startled by the brusque query, but she was a polite girl. “I am Clara.”

  “How old are you, Clara?”

  “Nine.”

  “Who is your mother?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. She died when I was a baby.”

  Joanna hurried out to the gate. “This is my niece, Miss Ralston. She’s home from school earlier than I expected. I should get her settled.”

  “Your niece?” Miss Ralston scathingly asked. “Clearly, you’re confused. If she was your niece, you’d be able to tell her that her mother was your sister.”

  “We took her in after her mother passed away, and we’ve always viewed her as family.”

  “Where was she born?”

  “I’m not certain of the village,” Joanna fibbed. “My Aunt Pru—God rest her soul—was midwife at the sad event.”

  At Joanna mentioning Pru, Miss Ralston blanched, and she was about to unload a slew of questions about Clara, but Joanna wouldn’t discuss any of them. She recalled the line on Miss Ralston’s palm, the one that had plainly shown she’d birthed a child. Could it be . . . ?

  No . . . she scolded herself. Don’t even think it. It would raise so many insurmountable issues, and she didn’t want to deal with any of them.

  Clara skirted by Miss Ralston and dashed over to hide behind Joanna. Joanna urged her up the walk.

  Once Clara was inside, Miss Ralston said to Joanna, “Remember my command: Stay away from the manor. Find some other victim to fleece. Leave Mrs. Howell alone.”

  Joanna dipped her head, as if to comply, then she watched Miss Ralston disappear down the path. Then Joanna went into the cottage, and Clara was in the front parlor, peeking out the curtain.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “It was Roxanne Ralston. Captain Ralston’s fiancée?”

  “I didn’t like her.”

  “Neither did I, but we’ll keep that opinion to ourselves.”

  “I’ve been complaining for months that this would happen. Now it has.”

  “My answer is still the same.”

  “Their kin have lived here for over a century!”

  “How is that my problem?”

  Jacob was bound for the estate office at the rear of the manor when he heard two men quarreling. He recognized Kit’s voice, but he wasn’t sure who the other one was.

  “It’s a widow and six children. Have you any concern for their fate?”

  “None,” Kit said.

  “What should I tell them?”

  “Tell them what I’ve already told them: We aren’t running a charity.”

  “Maybe not, but have we a Christian duty to those less fortunate?”

  There was a tense silence, then Kit said, “Are you finished? You’ve exasperated me beyond my limit, and I need to dress for supper.”

  “Yes, I’m finished.” The other man muttered, “I don’t know why I waste my breath.”

  Jacob was about to bluster in and pretend he’d just arrived, when Sandy stormed out. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes spitting daggers, but as he noted Jacob lurking, he smoothed his expression.

  “Hello, Captain. Were you hunting for me? I’m on my way to the stables.”

  “I’m looking for Mr. Boswell.”

  “He’s inside.”

  Sandy marched off, and Jacob listened to his furious strides fading away, then he entered the office.

  Kit was loafing in his chair at the desk, drinking a brandy. The liquor tray was by his elbow, and he pointed to it and said, “Will you join me? It’s late enough in the afternoon for us to start imbibing without our feeling like sots.”

  If he was dismayed that Jacob had overheard a portion of their argument, he didn’t show it by t
he slightest twitch of a brow.

  “Yes, I’ll have one.” Jacob eased onto a chair and reached over to accept a glass after Kit had filled it. He leaned back, sipping his beverage, then he casually said, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I was walking down the hall, you two were having quite a row. What’s wrong? Why is Sandy so enraged?”

  Kit waved a hand as if their harsh words had been trivial. “He constantly has a bee in his bonnet about some topic or other. He’s never liked how I run things, and we don’t ever agree on methods or solutions.”

  “That much was obvious.”

  “He disrespects me repeatedly, and I’m weary of his tantrums. I don’t suppose you’d let me fire him.”

  “For speaking his mind? Isn’t that a valuable trait in an employee?”

  “Not always. Am I in charge or aren’t I? One of these days, you should determine whether you’ve granted me full authority or not.”

  “How long has his family served us? Hasn’t it been a thousand years or more?”

  Kit smirked. “Yes, probably.”

  “And he’s good at his job. You don’t have any criticism about his managing the stables, do you?”

  “No. It’s just that he’s surly and impertinent. If he talked to you a single time with the contempt he regularly displays to me, you’d send him packing.”

  Jacob shrugged. “I’m more tolerant than you are. I can scold him if you’d like. I can order him to cease his insolence.”

  “Don’t you dare! I’m not a baby, and you don’t have to hold my hand.” Kit scowled. “What did you need? You can’t have wandered back here for no reason.”

  “I’d like you to get the estate ledgers together for me.”

  Was there the briefest hesitation on Kit’s part? “What for?”

  “I’d like to remodel the south wing of the manor, so I’ll have to borrow some money. I’d like to have a clearer idea of where I stand financially.”

  “I can explain the numbers to you.”

  “I’ve hired a London accounting firm. They’ve promised to give me a report in plain English—one I can read and comprehend without my eyes glazing over.”

  “Will you take them now? Or would you like me to post them to London for you?”