“Melissa.”
“And I know that Father expects him to stand up for me, but I wish he didn’t have to fight duels for me.”
“But that’s what he will do,” Lydia took hold of Melissa’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Look, you will have men duel for you and over you. Until your marriage is confirmed you will be serenaded and praised. Enjoy it my daughter for this time will never happen again. Have fun and try not to worry about your brother. He is more than capable of taking care of himself.” Lydia reached down and picked up the sampler.
“Now I would like you to finish the detailing on this before we make the move to the country.” Lydia handed the sampler over to her daughter and stood. She made an elegant figure in cream and blue brocade. “Perhaps a few days out of sight will cloud memories.”
Chapter 8:
Silver sheets of rain turned the landscape a dull grey as the coach rattled along the roads. Mud sprayed up from wheels, painting the bright livery of the carriage a dull murky brown. Sat beside her brother, Melissa stared out of the foggy window at the dismal landscape, her mood matching that of the weather. She should have been throwing herself into the season with gusto but now she was on her way home, her parents hoping that an absence from court would allow people to forget her indiscretions. The wheels bounced through a puddle and a wash of muddy water splayed across the window, reducing her view to almost nothing. Sighing, she turned back to the carriage and its occupants. Her mother was sat opposite; hands folded primly in her lap and mouth slightly open in sleep. Her father had stayed in London trying, he said, to smooth over ruffled feathers regarding her behaviour. Leaning back against the slightly hard chair, she tried to relax, remembering her father's words to her before they had boarded the carriage.
"You are on a knife edge my girl. Most would not forgive the display of temper, but luckily for you his attempt to strike you went against him. I will do what I can to mollify certain quarters, but I think it best for you to go back to the country and wait."
She closed her eyes remembering her father's displeasure with still simmering anger. She was fully conscious of her precarious position in society and the injustice of it, rankled her soul.
"Don't take it to heart," She opened her eyes and turned to face Marcus. His green eyes sparkled with sympathy as he reached forward to squeeze her hand. “They will forget, another scandal will pale yours into insignificance.”
“That’s not why I’m upset,” She murmured back, conscious of her mother’s dozing form.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, inviting further comment.
Melissa looked down at the faded floral pattern on the chairs, her mind running over all that had occurred. She had always known that she had less freedom than her brother and that her life would belong to the man she married, but it had always been a distant knowledge, one that she had never really thought off before. A loose thread in the cushion captured her interest and she picked at it, winding the thin red fibre about her index finger as she struggled with what to say.
“Melly,” Marcus leant in close and draped a comforting arm about her shoulders. “I know it seems unfair,”
“It is unfair,” She muttered back, fixated on the loop of red thread.
“Is it?” A note of disbelief crept into his voice. “Your entire future rests on you making a decent match; if you don’t then you are in far worse trouble.”
“But that is what I mean,” She looked up finally, “My future depending on who I marry,” She smiled, a bitter twisted grimace. “My husband will get my dowry; he will be able to spend it, to gamble it away. He will take my money because apparently I am incapable of controlling it. How is my dependence on another fair?”
“When the alternative is starvation,” Marcus leant back. “I understand Melissa and I sympathise, but what would you do? Father would never leave you independently wealthy and I would have the estate. Whichever way you look at it, you would not be allowed to live as you please. You would be on my charity or Father’s.” He took in her face and sighed. “Look, father will not make you marry a monster. Be assured of that at least.”
“Marcus,” The red loop of thread around her finger slid free and settled on the floor. “Do you think I am a useless decorative ornament, incapable of sensible decisions?”
For a long time, Marcus said nothing, his eyes flicking over his sister as he pondered her question.
“Well?”
“No,” He replied finally, his voice soft. “You’re not useless.” He gave a small smile. “Decorative possibly, but not useless.”
“Then you understand.”
“I may understand, but I also know that I can’t change anything. Father would not be willing to allow you sole access to your dowry and I know that I can’t leave you helpless.” He patted her shoulder. “Accept your lot in life sister, it’ll be easier.”
Melissa looked away and back out of the window, the view through the small portal was smeared and hazy. In the increasingly heavy rain, they rattled through the villages that lay closest to the manor. As the carriage rumbled along the familiar roads, she marked each well known sight with increasing depression. The village inn, the church, the green, all went by with a dreary familiarity. With a jolt, they took a left at the mile marker and headed along the roads that led towards the manor. As the carriage jolted and jerked along the muddy thoroughfare, Melissa stared at the damp landscape.
“Marcus?” At her call, he looked up from his light doze. “Look at that,” Grumbling lightly under his breath, Marcus stretched across his sister and stared out at the landscape.
“What am I looking at?” He enquired, his sleepy brain finding it difficult to sort out landscape from rain spatter.
“Someone’s put a gate up at the ruin next to us.” She pointed at the newly acquired gate, as they slowly moved past it. Marcus sighed and settled back against his chair.
“Don’t you pay any attention to local gossip?” He exclaimed as the gate passed out of sight. “That place has been sold for about six months.”
“I don’t pay attention to gossip,” Melissa retorted, as she craned her neck and tried to see into the overgrown estate.
“Clearly, if it wasn’t for Mother, you wouldn’t know who the king was.” He winced as Melissa thumped him. “Well that’s dashed unladylike, you’re not supposed to go around thumping me anymore.”
“We’re not in the middle of some party now.” A mischievous gleam chased away the melancholy look in her eyes that had haunted her all morning. I can slap you whenever you deserve it.” She grinned at her brother, who rolled his eyes. “Who would buy that place?”
“Justin Lestrade apparently,” Marcus replied, not missing the interest spark in his sister’s eyes as he spoke the words. “No one knows why, but he brought the place and is refurbishing it. It’s taking an age though, as the debris in the place goes back several decades.”
“I can imagine,” She murmured remembering the sight of that crumbling relic of a bygone age. As children they had run through the woods between the estates and run through the overgrown gardens. The house had loomed over the surrounding grounds, its walls ruined and overgrown. Only part of the building seemed standing, the rest was a brooding wreck, its stones scorched by a fire in its distant past.
“Surely he has his family estate?”
“By all accounts that is his family estate,” Marcus replied, leaning forward to stare at the weed choked land. “Apparently after the fire, his family went to the Americas and made more money. He returned last year after the death of his father.” The overgrown estates disappeared behind the hedgerows and Marcus sat back in his chair.
“It must be costing a fortune to rebuild that ruin.” Melissa mused as they trundled closer to the gates of their estate.
“I daresay,” Marcus replied, losing interest in the conversation as they drew closer to home. “Still if he wants to waste his money then who are we to argue.”
The carriage turned towards the gatehouse
and trundled along the drive towards their home. The house had only been built in the last forty years. Its façade was in pale cream stone and large windows overlooked formal gardens. The carriage rolled to a stop before the main doors and their mother woke. As the footman placed the steps before the door, Melissa caught hold of her brother.
“What is it Melly?” He asked, pushing the carriage door open as he spoke.
“Sorry,” She muttered as the footmen reached forward a hand and helped her from the coach.
“For what?” Marcus stepped down after her and began walking to the main doors, shoulders hunched against the rain.
“For this morning, I shouldn’t have snapped as I did, you were only trying to..”
Marcus held up his hand and stopped her. “Don’t fret about it,” He caught hold of her arm and escorted her to the door. “I know you hate being helpless,”
Melissa smiled as they headed into the hallway and warmth. “So does that mean you’ll teach me to fence?” She asked with a grin.
“No,” Marcus released her arm and removed his hat. “But if you want, I will target shoot with you.” He glanced out at that rain. “If it stops raining,”
“Agreed,” Melissa returned as she handed her outdoor coat to her maid and walked towards the dining room and food. “I get to go first,”
Marcus chuckled ruefully and nodded. “Alright,” He replied as he began to load his plate with ham and cheese. “Though,” He speared a hunk of bread with his knife, “I don’t think you’ll win,”
“Care to wager on that?”
“No gambling in my house,” Their mother’s voice echoed from behind them and they both grinned. “I’m not even sure I should let you shoot.”
“Mother?” Melissa protested, picking up her plate and sitting down at the table.
“Don’t Mother me; your father would have a fit.”
“He already has,” Marcus replied through a mouthful of bread. “Any complaints he may have are a little old hat now.”
“That may be but,” Lydia sat in her place and buttered one of the rolls. “Perhaps it’s not a good idea to test your father right now.”
“Papa isn’t here,” Melissa noted as she cut the ham into neat slices. “He wouldn’t have to know.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure if I should be encouraging this,” Lydia continued, staring at her children with a smile. “But you’re right, this is a conversation we had years ago.” She bit into a roll and chewed thoughtfully. “So I have no objection, just make sure you’re far enough from the house.”
“Thank you,” Melissa sprang up at hugged Lydia, who smiled and patted her hair.
“I know what it’s like, Darling,” Her mother whispered as she gently stroked her hair. Kissing her daughter lightly on the cheek, she returned to her food. “Just be careful,”
Chapter 9:
Melissa and Marcus walked out of the large double doors and headed into the gardens. Their feet squelched through the wet grass as they headed toward the yew garden. It was the best place for them to practice, the yew garden lay at the back of the house and a good distance away.
“Perhaps we should have waited for a day or two,” Marcus noted wryly as he glanced down at his wet footwear. “I have the distinct impression that I’m sinking.”
“It’s only mud,” Melissa replied as she followed him into the garden. “It won’t kill you,”
“No but Mother might when she sees the state of your dress.” Marcus replied with a chuckle as they walked through the majestic line of yew trees and reached their usual practice site at the end of the garden.
“You’re not getting out of it,” They came to a stop before a target and Melissa turned to face her brother. “I’m still going to beat you,”
“Highly doubtful,” He reached her side and handed her one of the two pistols that he was holding. “I bet you won’t even touch the target.”
“Getting a little cocky aren’t you?” She replied as she began to load the pistol. With steady hands, she loaded the muzzle of the gun with black powder, before placing a small lead shot into the barrel. Using a small ramrod, she jammed the powder and shot into the base of the barrel, before priming the flash pan lid with fine gunpowder. “I’m ready,” She looked up at Marcus and smiled. “Do you want to go first?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Marcus replied, indicated the target with a sweep of his fingers. “By all means, go ahead.” He took a step back, holding the primed pistol away from his body and angled upwards, so that the ball did not roll out of the barrel.
Melissa drew back the cock on the gun and aimed towards the target, holding her arm steady, despite the weight of the gun. With a slight narrowing of her eyes, she squeezed the trigger. The flint laden trigger slammed into the fine gunpowder, igniting a small spark that raced into the combustion chamber and fired the black powder. With a deafening bang, the pistol fired, sending the lead shot sailing into the target opposite.
“Not bad,” Marcus muttered as he stared across at the target through the drifting curtain of smoke. The shot had left a neat, yet blackened hole quite close to the centre of the target. “Not bad at all.” Melissa gave a small smirk as she stepped aside and allowed her brother to take up position. “But I’m afraid.” Marcus fired, the small ball of shot rocketing through the air to embed itself into the dense straw. “not quite good enough.”
“How did you manage that?” They reached the target. Marcus’ shot was an inch closer to the target than his sisters.
“Practice,” Marcus chuckled as he began walking back to the starting position. “What were you saying about wagers?” He drew out some more shot and powder. “I think you owe me a week’s allowance.”
“Practice shot doesn’t count.” Melissa countered as she began to reload her pistol. “I’d say best of five,”
“And give you time to cheat?” Marcus stopped loading and smirked at his sister. “I don’t think so, make it best of three and I’m in.”
“I don’t cheat,” Melissa muttered as she finished ramming her second shot into the barrel. “You can’t always be lucky,”
“Not luck sister dearest but skill.” He finished priming his pistol and winked at her. “We can’t all be gifted.”
“Oh I’m going to love beating you,” She replied, pushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. “You can consider your allowance mine.” She reached out a hand and clasped his. “I accept your wager.”
“Good morning,” As one, they turned to face the source of the call. Elegant in a heavy velvet coat and riding breeches, Marcus’ friend, James walked towards them.
“James,” Marcus reached forward with a smile and clasped his friend’s hand. “You must have ridden like the devil to get here.”
“Almost,” James laughed back as he returned the handshake. He turned his gaze on Melissa, who smiled and bobbed a welcome.
“James, you remember my sister?” Marcus asked, waving in Melissa’s direction.
“Yes of course,” James took hold of Melissa’s fingers and bestowed a light kiss upon her hand. “I missed you at the palace the other night; I heard it was quite an experience.”
“I daresay the entire of London heard,” Melissa retorted, wondering if she would ever live down the event.
“I would like to have seen it,” James continued, “Montjoy is a blight on society.”
“Well you got to see Marcus take him down a peg.” Melissa replied, smiling at her brother. “I count seeing blood the best of the bargain.” Marcus choked back a cough of laughter at her words and continued to reload his pistol.
“Marcus I had no idea your sister was so bloodthirsty.” James called over his shoulder as he leant against one of the hedges.
“Bloodthirsty, a handful and an all round nuisance,” Marcus chuckled, ducking a playful slap from his sister. “Really, you can have her for a guinea.”
“I doubt she’s that bad.” James replied, looking at Melissa with a smile. “She’s always seemed perfectly n
ice to me.”
Marcus glanced up and looked at his friend, noting the direction of his gaze with a small twist of his lips. It wasn’t blindingly obvious, but he could read the signs in James’ face. His friend was more than interested in his sister. A glance across at Melissa revealed that she appeared to be unaware of his interest. He swallowed the chuckle of amusement and handed his pistol to James.
“Care to join us?”
James nodded and took hold of the pistol. As he aimed it at the target, hurried steps behind drew their attention and all three looked over to see a maid rush to the scene.
“I’m sorry Sirs, Miss,” The woman gasped out as she bobbed a curtsey. “But her Ladyship wants to see you Miss.” Melissa sighed in frustration and handed her pistol back to her brother.
The Black Lotus (Night Flower) Page 9