Bride Enchanted

by Edith Layton

  Sherry stood irresolute as they began walking across the drive to the side of the house.

  Arianna looked back over her shoulder. She laughed. “Dear Sherry. Will you wait for me? I’d like to have a private word with you too.”

  “I will, I shall, I mean, I will be here, right here, waiting,” Sherry called after them.

  “My brother,” Eve said, “is smitten with you.” She felt awkward, walking with linked arms with anyone but Aubrey, but she continued on down the path with her sister-in-law. Arianna, she noted, smelled of jasmine, night flowers, and spice. It was a refreshing perfume, but nothing like her brother’s intoxicating scent.

  “It was very wicked of Aubrey not to tell you about me, but very, very wicked of him not to tell me about you,” Arianna said. “I forgive him, of course. His head must have been so completely filled with thoughts of you that all else was lost. But I mean to come to know you better, Eve. Is it just you and your brother? Or do you have other sisters and brothers?”

  “It’s just Sherry and myself,” Eve said. “Have you any other siblings that Aubrey neglected to tell me about?”

  Arianna looked surprised, and then she laughed. “Well done, turnabout is fair play. No, it’s just my brother and myself. But we have a great many cousins, and so I hope you will see them when you come to visit with me. Tell me, is your mother still with us? Your father?”

  “My father,” Eve said. “Our mother died after Sheridan was born.”

  “And you are a Faraday, your father’s name. What was your mama’s maiden name? Forgive me,” she added quickly. “One of my hobbies is genealogy.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. My mother’s family name was Tragacanth.”

  “From Wales, or near to?” Arianna asked.

  “Why, yes. The family had its roots there. And her mother’s name was Peagle. I much prefer Ashford,” Eve said with a laugh.

  “Interesting, indeed,” Arianna said. She looked up suddenly, as though hearing something, though Eve heard nothing but the usual midday sounds of birds, late crickets, and rustling leaves

  “Oh, this is dreadful. We must go back,” Arianna said. “I see from the sun that the day is more advanced than I realized. I wish you’d been home earlier, so we could have had a longer visit, but at least I had this time with you. I invite you to visit with me, Eve. Oh, you must come! With Aubrey, of course, if he wishes. But he never comes to visit me, so it may have to be just you and Sherry. I have such an interesting home, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself mightily. The beds are soft; I have a garden that blooms all year; my friends and cousins are delightful company. We have such delicious parties. No! Don’t say a word yet. I won’t hear no. I’ll send word to you to ask again.

  “I must hurry now,” she said, as they neared the drive again. “My carriage is waiting on the other side of the stables. Tell Sherry I’ll see him again, and invite him personally as well. Take care, dear little sister, be sure to give Aubrey my love, and come, do come, to visit with me soon.” She rushed away, to the stables, and was soon gone from sight.

  Eve turned, and walked to the drive. She saw Sherry and Aubrey waiting there. She braced herself and hurried to them. She wouldn’t lie. “Arianna’s just left,” she said breathlessly. “You can still catch her if you hurry,” she told Aubrey. “Not you, Sherry. She said she’d see you again soon. She’ll be inviting us to her house, she said.”

  Aubrey didn’t move. He stood tall and still. “I won’t catch her, nor do I wish to,” he said. “What else did she say to you?”

  “She just wanted to be acquainted,” Eve said. “She asked about my family, my mother’s maiden name, the sorts of things that people interested in genealogy often ask. But I don’t think she was being high in the instep or snobbish at all. Just curious.”

  “And you told her,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  He hesitated. “My sister,” he finally said, “is not quite normal, Eve.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Sherry said icily. “I saw nothing amiss with her, and it does you no credit, Aubrey, to speak against her.”

  Eve was shocked at how adult Sheridan suddenly sounded.

  Aubrey put his hand to his forehead. “True, Sherry. Calm yourself. I only meant that it’s hard to explain. She has fancies and superstitions, and peculiarities. She would drive you mad with them. I don’t want…That is to say, I’d suggest you never meet with her alone again.”

  “I shall meet with whom I choose,” Sherry said, and strode away in the direction of the stables.

  “He won’t find her,” Aubrey said.

  Eve shook her head. She looked up into the beautiful stern visage of her husband. “It won’t do, Aubrey,” she said. “Not at all. I tried to avoid her, I could not. It was a poor promise to try to extract from me. And as I recall I didn’t take any vows about it either.”

  “I know,” Aubrey said, with a slight bow of his head. “I stand corrected.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Especially since she says she lives so near. There are things you haven’t told me, things I ought to know. If you don’t tell me now, I’ll find them by chance or accident. So I ask you to honor me with truth. I will have no such secrets between us.” Her expression was grave, her voice deliberate. “Give me truth, Aubrey, for the sake of our marriage. I won’t be kept in the dark anymore.”

  “I’d rather not,” he said.

  She blinked.

  He scowled. “Are you sure? Sometimes ignorance is bliss,” he said.

  “Ignorance may be bliss, but lies are hellish.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You’re not telling me everything,” she said.

  “True. And so then if you insist, I will. I meant to, in time. I imagine that the time is now. I hadn’t expected it. But you, my Eve, are cleverer than most, and harder to fob off with excuses than any. So, later, I will. For now, we have guests to see off, and your brother to pour ice water on. And then I vow, I’ll tell you what you want to know. Whether you believe me or not.”

  Chapter 13

  He came to her in the night, to their bed, when the house was still and all their guests were gone away or gone to sleep.

  Eve was waiting. When Aubrey put his lips to hers, she turned her head. He stopped and drew away.

  “No,” Eve said. “When you kiss me, I want to make love, and when we do, I forget everything. Then I’d sleep, and it will be yet another day when I don’t know what I should. Just talk to me, please. Please tell me truths. About you and your sister, and the rumors that fly about the Hall. And then, if you please, make love to me.”

  “Will you want to then?” he asked slowly.

  She sat up. “Will I?”

  He stood and paced the bedchamber. “There are some things I haven’t told you,” he said. “Some, because I didn’t think they’d matter. Some, because I wanted to wait until you know me better. Some, because I didn’t think you’d believe me. But ask me now, and I will tell you.”

  He sat on the edge of their bed, and waited.

  “All right,” she said, slowly nodding. “First. Why didn’t you tell me about Arianna? And why doesn’t the village know about her? Even the vicar doesn’t. So, is she your legitimate sister? And why is she a secret?”

  “I didn’t tell you about her because I doubted you’d ever meet her. She’s a moody creature, and only makes friends where she feels she can make some good for herself from it. She surprised me as well.

  “The village and the vicar—my, you’ve been busy,” he added with laughter in his voice. “Yes, they’ve never met her either. She was born in another country, and likes it so much there that she seldom comes here and when she does, she seldom stays long enough to know anyone here. She’s my sister, and if by legitimate you mean, is she my sister from both my parents? Then, yes. She is. And she’s secret only because she chooses to stay that way, and so I honestly forgot about her. And I thankfully forgot her spite and malice as well. Maybe I wanted to forge
t. But there it is, and that is it. Any other questions?”

  “Why don’t you want me or Sherry to see her, or go for a visit to her home?”

  “As I said, she’s vicious and petty. I’d rather you didn’t deal with her alone. One day, I’ll take you, if you wish, and Sherry too, if he’s still infatuated by then. We’ll visit with her. That is, if she still wants us to. She forgets her fancies as soon as she forms them. But that’s the only way I’d feel you and Sherry were safe from her machinations.”

  “What of these rumors about your family?”

  He had stood, preparing for bed, and now paused, his hands on the sash to his night robe. “Which rumors?”

  “The villagers…. Well, I hear they say…” she paused, trying to think how to say what she’d heard.

  “Ah,” he said. “Let me see, which distressed you the most? The black masses held here at the Hall? The pagan magic worked, and the enchantments chanted? The dissolute parties at midnight? The sounds of music and dancing when decent working folk are sleeping? Or was it the maidens stolen away and the handsome youths disappearing after a dance with someone at a party here? Or is there something new I haven’t heard?”

  She hung her head.

  He discarded his robe, and came to sit beside her. He put a hand under her chin, and looked at her directly, the glitter in his eyes dancing with the flickering lamplight. “That’s why I, and my kind, seldom stay here, or at least, for long. We’re distrusted and reviled. I suppose it’s because my ancestors were rich beyond most kings, and a merry, feckless clannish troop. They were arrogant too, as well as heedless and selfish.

  “Still,” he said, “what village maiden would want to return to her humble home after she’d made love to a gifted lover with money and charm and music in his voice? Why wouldn’t a handsome local young farmer or farrier’s son with little future want to run away with a beautiful, exotic and erotic woman of means who wanted him? Yes, it happened. And often as not the young folk never returned, or if they did, they were older and wiser, and bitter about what had happened to them.”

  She looked up. She’d never heard that.

  “What had happened was usually only that they were discarded when they grew boring,” he explained. “I never said my folk were constant or kind. They were, in fact, like many other rich and careless lovers. So the villagers still don’t trust us. How can I blame them? When such things happened we were whispered about and lied about, and feared. Not unnaturally, we don’t trust them either.”

  This sounded true to Eve. But still, even with his hand and his eyes upon her, she wasn’t satisfied. There were things he wasn’t saying. She knew it, but how she knew she didn’t know. A thought came to her from nowhere. “The vicar said all the women your ancestors married were noble beauties. Why didn’t you marry one? No,” she said quickly. “No more flattery, because I don’t believe in it. Why didn’t you choose a wife as your father and grandfather did? Someone fabulously beautiful and titled?”

  “I found you,” he said so simply and honestly, that in spite of herself, she believed him.

  “You never loved before?” she asked, because this she couldn’t believe.

  He hesitated.

  “Ah,” she said. “So tell me, as you promised you would. Why didn’t you marry her?”

  He lowered his head. “I vowed the truth, and truth you shall have. I’ve been married before. Before I returned, before I met you. She died long ago, on our travels.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, as though all the air had been punched out of her chest.

  “Eve,” he said, looking at her again. “I was younger. I was looking for different things in a woman. But now? What I felt for any women before I met you is nothing to what I feel for you.” There was music in his voice, as well as an under-current of sorrow. He was pleading with her to understand. “I found you,” he said. “And you are all I ever wanted, whether I knew it or not.”

  “Why?” she cried, because there was still that small stubborn part of her logical mind that refuted what he said. While all the time, she yearned to believe him. “Why me? I am inconsiderable.”

  He smiled. “There’s a lie! I’ve told you nothing but truth but you’re not being as honest with me. Oh, my dear little liar, you are considerable, and deep down, you know it.”

  “But I’m not titled, neither am I a great beauty.”

  “And note that you said ‘great,’ “he said, laughing. “Because you know you’re not without charms, and you didn’t mention your wisdom and your good sense. You’re without vanity, but not without pride. And not without a title: it is ‘be-loved wife.’ You can see why I choose you if you allow yourself to. Maybe you aren’t lying so much as too quick to demean yourself. But I forgive you. Now, I’ve answered your questions truthfully. Is there anything more?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your first wife?” she asked simply.

  He took her unresisting, into his arms. “First, second, third: had I as many as Bluebeard, so long as I treated them well, what purpose would it serve? Would it have made a difference?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Do you grieve for her?”

  “I did,” he said simply.

  “Do you mourn her?”

  “I did,” he said.

  “Were there children?”

  “No, I’m sorry to say. I’ve never been fortunate enough to sire a child.”

  She tried to think of what else to ask him about his wife, and his life in those days. “What was her name? What did she look like? Why did she die?”

  “Her name was Arabella,” he said. “She was considered a great beauty. Illness took her; an illness no physician here or abroad could cure.” He spoke softly, sadly. “Eve, what use is it to speak of her now, for me or for you? I’ll tell you chapter and verse, but how will it matter, except perhaps to make you think I can’t stop thinking of her? I have, you’ve seen to that.

  “All that was then,” he went on, “before we met. There was pain and grief enough. I nursed her through her final illness. After a long time, I came back here to find life again. And in you, I found more than I ever knew existed. I don’t denigrate what went before, neither do I demean it. But it’s the past. I returned to the Hall to find happiness. I did. You’re my wife now. We are the future.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” was all she could think to say.

  “Again. Would it have mattered? Except perhaps to make you wary of me? Still, had you asked, I would have told you.”

  She shook her head. Then she studied him. “So then,” she said carefully, “you’re saying that if I didn’t ask you now I won’t know? And if I don’t ask about other things, I won’t know?”

  He shrugged. “Eve, my love, I’ll never give you a direct lie. But how shall I know what you want to know if you don’t ask me?”

  She frowned, wondering what to ask.

  And then he kissed her, and she put her hands on his radiantly warm body, and felt the heart beating in his chest, and all her doubts and fears disappeared, as always, as they made love.

  “I don’t want to go to London,” Sherry said angrily, putting his father’s letter down. “I don’t know what’s got into the old boy. I like it here, I want to stay here. That is, of course,” he said, looking at Aubrey instead of his sister, “unless you want me gone. Then, I’m off.”

  “You’re always welcome here,” Aubrey said. “But your father worries about you. He’s right. You should return to University, Sheridan. Only one more year.”

  “He never kicked up before,” Sherry said grudgingly.

  “That’s because you took the time off to mature, or so at least you said,” Eve said. “Lord, Sherry! You have done. You’ve grown a foot, at least. You walk and talk like a man now. Finish your studies, and then come live with us forever if you want. But I can’t disagree with Father.”

  Sherry fidgeted. Eve looked away from him, afraid something in her eyes would show him the truth. She’d written
to her father telling him to send for Sherry. She wanted him gone before Aubrey’s sister remembered him, if she ever did.

  Sheridan was becoming a handsome youth. A late growth spurt had made him tall and straight and he was growing into his size and beginning to walk like a man instead of gamboling like a sheep. He had a ready smile and quiet good looks. He was also kind, gentle, and far too gullible. It seemed sometimes to Eve that she’d inherited all the sense in the family. Unless, of course, it came to Sheridan later, as everything else seemed to be doing. As for now, he was almost twenty, and still young for his age.

  “Well, I’ll go see him, and listen to him, but I’m tired of University,” he grumbled. “What difference does it make if I finish it now?”

  “It makes a difference to Father. So go see him. And then try again. An education is important for a gentleman, and,” she added pointedly, “it’s important to most ladies who are looking for a husband, because they like a well-informed mind. Sherry,” she said in a softer voice, “it’s been a few weeks. She likely won’t call on us again this season. Soon travel will be difficult. The weather is turning. There’ll be snow and sleet. Christmas is coming, and a New Year. Enjoy London at holiday time, and then go to school after the celebrations are done.

  “Tell you what!” she said on a sudden inspiration. “If she does call and ask for you, I promise that I’ll let you know immediately. I’ll forward any letters to you too.”

  Sherry didn’t ask who “she” was. “Promise?” he asked with touching, childlike sincerity.

  “Cross my heart,” she said, doing so.

  He nodded. “I’ll pack and be gone.”

  “You don’t have to clear out like a cat with its tail on fire,” Eve said, laughing. “Take your time.”

  “This is the best time,” Sherry said, and strode from the room.

  Eve turned away from Aubrey’s amused glance. “Yes, I wrote to my father,” she murmured. “I asked him to send for Sherry. It seemed the only politic thing to do. I told him Sherry was in danger of falling into the clutches of a clever, conscienceless female. And so of course he wrote right back, demanding Sherry come to London and then go back to school. Sherry will never know my part in it or that my father knows about Arianna. My father promised me that.” She looked at him. “I did it for you, you know. You were so adamant about it.”