* * *
Midway through dinner, Jack regretted turning over the menu to Maddie. The dishes were too highly seasoned, too rich and spicy for delicate stomachs that were further roiled by the need to share a meal. Everything that Lady Jane said was irksome. Every superior air that Lawrence adopted was aggravating, made more so by the knowledge that he would inherit the title and entailed lands because Jack had no son. He always felt as if his brother was eyeing him, in the hope that the Admiral would drop dead and clear out of the way. Then there was Joseph, who never passed up an opportunity to goad Lawrence into a patriotic monologue that inevitably reprised their late father’s fervor and anti-rebel sentiments, which Joseph would tear down with logical arguments. While the brothers sparred across the table, Jack observed Maddie and could not have been more delighted. The green ribbon she wore in her hair was a perfect compliment to her auburn curls, which were combed and in place. She had made a great effort to please him.
After the children were excused to play, Jack suggested that the adults all join him in the drawing room, rather than separate into male and female spheres. His fears pressed so heavily that he had to settle things at once, before he lost the courage or lost a taste for humble pie. Lady Jane made the tea while Lawrence and Joseph maintained an uneasy truce.
“It’s to be war, I’ve heard,” Joseph said.
“A matter of time. Months. Possibly weeks,” Jack said. “I have assembled you here to ask for your help, in the near future and in the event of my demise.”
The ladies gasped, murmured their horror at such a possibility, but Jack doubted Lady Jane’s sincerity. “Custody reverts to her grandparents or brother, as I understand it,” Lawrence said.
“How does she get to them, that concerns me,” Jack said. “What I will ask of you, Lawrence, is that you see to it that Madeleine remains in England until she can travel safely.”
“One would not put a child on a merchant vessel with only her maid to protect her,” Marie-Elise said.
“That is but one of my concerns,” Jack said. He refilled his glass and drank the port in two gulps. Distasteful, what he had to do. “It is my solemn duty to educate my daughter, both intellectually and socially. Her coming out, while largely ceremonial, must be done in a manner befitting her rank. Not only as my daughter, but as a prominent member of Charleston society.”
To the victor, the spoils. Lady Jane reached out to Jack, as if she would take his hand and comfort him. “I deem it a great honor to be so entrusted,” she said. “To launch two such promising young ladies will give me the greatest pleasure.”
“Two chances at triumph,” Joseph said. “A doubling of the odds.”
“Although we all understand that Madeleine is not to be put on the marriage market,” Lawrence said. “There are foreign entanglements, my dear, that must be honored. Your efforts must be directly towards our daughter in that regard.”
“I fully embrace the notion that a young lady might marry for love, with no effort or encouragement from outside interests,” Lady Jane said. “Am I not an example of the felicity that can be found in such a union?”
Before the family battle was fully met, Jack changed the subject, bringing up the critical urgency of the Royal Navy gaining access to the port at Malta. The terms of the peace treaty were too onerous to bear, hampering the navy’s ability to patrol the Mediterranean and control piracy. The women found common ground in a discussion of fashion, a peaceful exchange of opinions mixed with gossip. Until the footman came in to light the candles, Jack had not noticed the deep shadows that were creeping across the garden outside, where the gravel footpath shone bright white against the dark greens of the yew hedge. Voices of children at play drifted into the drawing room, creating a scene of perfect domesticity that cast Jack adrift.
The laughter turned to shouts, the shouts grew louder. “Well, well, Cousin Jonathan, you’re quite the rebel,” George said, his voice cracking on a high note.
“A rebel to the core, John Bull, and I can lick your red-coated bottom,” Maddie retorted.
In an instant, the parents were at the windows, too far away to step in between George and Maddie, who engaged in a shoving match that resulted in Maddie being pushed to the ground. As if she were on a spring, she popped up, balled up her fists, and landed a perfectly placed punch to George’s middle. He doubled over, in surprise more than pain, and Maddie followed through with a left fist to the boy’s nose.
A bare-knuckled boxer could not have struck a more formidable pose than Maddie, fists cocked, feet planted. “You will apologize to me and Lucy at once, you cur,” she said. “On your knees, dog, and beg our forgiveness.”
“Oh my,” Lady Jane said. A slack-jawed Marie-Elise covered her mouth with her hand, speechless, while the boys outside cheered with vicious glee.
“Madeleine.” The roar echoed across the vast lawn, rebounded off the woods and frightened the birds into flight. Behind him, Jack could hear his brothers, laughing.
The combatants entered the room, Maddie unbowed and George bleeding. “Explain yourself, miss,” Jack said, the words sieved through clenched teeth.
“George said Lucy was bacon-brained, sir, and when I defended her, he insulted my honor,” Maddie said. “I demanded satisfaction after he called me a rebel in a disparaging manner.”
“Indeed. You are a rebel, young lady, as was your mother before you,” Jack said. “But to use your fists.”
“It was the only weapon available to me,” Maddie said. “Other than a rock, which would have been excessive force.”
The thumping was Joseph falling off his chair. The snorting was Lawrence doing a poor job of restraining his guffaws. It was all Jack could do to keep from joining them. “Apologize to your cousin at once. You will then seek forgiveness from our guests, and I will deal with you at my convenience,” Jack said.
“I am sorry, George,” Maddie said. She paused, looked him square in the face, and added, “Sorry that a little girl whooped you.”
“Do all American boys wear gowns?” George sneered. His mother boxed his ear.
With hands clasped behind his back, Jack paced the floor after the children had been sent to their rooms and Maddie put into isolation as further punishment. Joseph slapped him on the back and said, “What spirit. Magnificent.”
“Sarah knew this would happen,” Jack said. “See to my daughter, she said, and she knew that child was a hoyden. An untamed force of raw nature, a hurricane blowing through my life.”
“Not at all,” Marie-Elise said. “She is a girl without a mother or sisters to provide guidance. The influence of her brothers is evident. Would Lucy be as gentle a soul as she is without her mother to shape her?”
“What should we have expected of a girl who came to us from such a primitive country?” Lady Jane asked. “That is what Lady Bransmore asked of you, my lord, to bring her out of the wilderness. It is no easy task, and you are at such a disadvantage.”
“This sort of outburst is easily corrected,” Marie-Elise said.
“Female companionship of the right sort would be of tremendous benefit,” Lawrence said.
The right sort. Jack would never consider Lady Jane, portentous and haughty, as the right sort. He had only to look at his niece to see a girl who was, indeed, bacon-brained thanks to her mother’s instruction. Yet what other choice did he have? Marie-Elise was sweet and kind, but she lacked the necessary connections to move Maddie through London society. He could only hope that Madame LaSalle, given two years dedicated to education, could provide a strong enough foundation to avoid the wrong outcome once Lady Jane took command of that other side of a woman’s training.
“How can I express my gratitude?” Jack said. The Ashfords formed an alliance, but Jack was not certain that his brothers came together for his sake, or in spite of him. Certainly Maddie’s social success could bring benefits in the form of introductions that opened doors of advancement for government ministers and businessmen looking to increase trade. If the
y benefitted, so be it. What mattered was the end result, not the means.
The Second War of Rebellion Page 12