Lady Anne 03 - Curse of the Gypsy

by Donna Lea Simpson

  “Are you going to come in or just stand there staring at me?” he asked, his eyes still closed.

  She started, and moved into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. “I thought you were sleeping, or at least unaware of my presence.”

  “I will always be aware of your presence. You carry your own perfume, my dear Anne, a scent that I would inhale even in the most noisome of environments, and the whisper of your limbs entices me.” He sat up and turned, staring at her through the dimness. “Come. Sit beside me,” he said, his deep voice gruff with emotion.

  She went to him and sat, keeping her knees and legs from touching him.

  “Stop being so careful,” he said, putting one arm around her and pulling her close. He bent her back and kissed her, hard at first, then softening as she allowed the caress.

  “I really do mean to talk, Tony,” she said, straightening and pulling away from him, tidying her hair as best she could and dabbing the clinging moisture from her lips.

  “Damn.” He sighed deeply. “I thought you might be serious about talking.”

  “You know we need to,” she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his gloomy expression. It did not offend her that he would rather make love than talk. “But there are some matters of which we must speak. They will not trouble you over much, I hope.” She told him about her conversation with Osei about her father’s predicament, finishing with the idea that Osei stay with the earl for a month.

  “Osei? Stay here?” He looked not only startled, but put out.

  “I have already asked him and he would be happy to stay, particularly to welcome Miss Simmons and help her adjust to the duties of a secretary to my father, assuming she is right for the position.”

  Grudgingly, Darkefell said, “All right, but only because you ask.”

  “You are too accustomed to Mr. Boatin thinking of everything so you don’t have to,” she remarked. “That’s why you are reluctant to let him go even for a month.”

  “I do nothing of the kind!”

  “You do! Tony, have you ever asked him if he’d like to go back to Africa?”

  He frowned and said, “I have, but only lately. I did ask him, actually, a few weeks ago, but he shunted the question aside.”

  She told him about Osei’s steadfast commitment to the marquess, whom he claimed had given him everything in giving him his life. “He shies from any hint of a life for himself, for in his devotion to you he feels he has no right to ask for more.”

  “Mmm. I rather feared he’d be like that. But Anne, I don’t know what his status would be if he was out of England and taken prisoner, or if someone claimed him as a slave. If I owned him, I could give him manumission papers, but I don’t own him, so a paper attesting to his freedom might hold no meaning. I just don’t know.”

  “How abominable is the world, that men can speak of owning another,” she said with deep feeling, her voice trembling. “It is a sickening thought.”

  “To me they are words with no meaning, for one cannot own another human.” He gave her a speaking look.

  She gazed steadily into his eyes. “But the world says differently. Perhaps you could consult with some legal authority?”

  “I will do that. It is a good suggestion, my love.” He met her gaze. “I have made certain inquiries as to the fate of his sister, which I think troubles him more than anything else. If we can find out where she went from the coast of Africa, what ship she was taken on and where it was headed, then perhaps we can find her. But it will not be a simple thing, for if they did not record her African name, and followed the practice of giving her a Christian name, she is perhaps lost forever.”

  Anne shivered. “The poor girl! I imagine someone as sensitive as Osei, with the added burden of womanhood, and … and I know the practices of those filthy slavers.”

  He put one arm around her shoulders. “You know too much for your own peace, my dearest Anne. It will do us no good to imagine the worst. If only he had said something to me years ago, or if I had had the sense to think of it myself, but to my great shame, I didn’t.” He gazed at her and took her hand in his. “I might never have, if it was not for you. Despite my best efforts to thwart you, you are making me into a better man. Thank you for awakening a part of me of which I wasn’t aware.”

  She felt the color rise in her cheeks. He could not have said anything more tender or that would please her more than that she had awakened his conscience to duty, for her own deep beliefs were that, as it affirmed in the book of Luke, “unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.” But in fairness, she protested, “I had nothing to do with it, Tony. You would have thought of it yourself.”

  “Let us not argue, for I will just keep trying to blacken my character and you will try to resurrect it. You and Osei can argue at a later date as to my various perfections.”

  She smiled, but replied, “I have a lot on my mind, Tony. If I don’t keep up with your wit, you will excuse me.” She told him about Mrs. Noonan’s dilemma and what she had done, and then moved on to her brother. “Jamey weighs on my mind. If … when my father dies—God willing, it is many years from now—I will need to take Jamey to live with me. I couldn’t bear to leave him on his own.”

  “Yes?”

  She stared over at him, into the depths of his dark eyes, shadowed in the flickering candlelight. “Don’t you see? If … if you and I m-married, that would mean taking him to Darkefell.”

  His face lost its baffled look. “My dearest love,” he said, gathering her in his arms. “Is that all that’s worrying you?” he said, hugging her close, then releasing her. “Jamey would always have a home with us.”

  “But that would be difficult. I won’t sweeten it, Tony; he is set in his ways and tiring. He can have tantrums and routine is very important to him. It will never be an easy transition no matter where or when he moves, and the older he gets the more difficult he will be, I fear, in some ways.”

  “Anne, whatever needed to be done, you could always count on me.” He kissed her forehead. “Stop worrying about it.”

  She sighed and rested against his chest, the reassuring thud-thud of his strong heart making her feel sleepy, almost, with comfort.

  Until his hand slipped down her bodice and his lips fastened over hers. She squirmed away from him. “Stop it!” she cried, slapping his hands away from her. “You are like a child, always greedy for sweets!”

  His dark eyes flashed. “I am most definitely not a child, Anne.”

  “I think you have more in common with a gluttonous child than you will admit,” she said, rising and stalking to the door. But she paused and turned, regarding him steadily. She hadn’t even begun to talk to him about her plans yet. “Tony, I never did have the opportunity to ask, do you mind if I come north with you?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that,” he said, his voice soft and dark with sweet meaning.

  “I have a lot to do, if I’m leaving with you in the morning.” He began to rise, but she put out one hand. “No, Tony, please; let’s just leave it as it is tonight. I’m … I’m feeling a little overwhelmed right now.”

  “May I kiss you good night?” He rose without waiting for her answer and strode to her, taking her in his arms. He met her lips with his own and kissed her deeply. “Good night, my love, and pleasant dreams. Until tomorrow.”

  Nineteen

  Darkefell strolled to the staircase with Anne, said he would give the others her excuses, and let her go with just one hasty kiss. He watched her climb to the next floor, her elegant figure tracing a kind of exotic rhythm as she ascended. It was like some beckoning dance, and he wished he could follow her, then ravish her for the rest of the night.

  He turned away as she disappeared. It was fortunate that Anne had left him so early, for he had some business to attend to, something that could not wait. He headed back to the drawing room, to Osei and the earl, informing them that as Anne was joining Julius, Darkefell, and their mother on their jou
rney north, she had letters to write and much to organize. She had made her apologies.

  “Osei,” Darkefell said, turning to his secretary. “Anne spoke to me of your wish to stay here and help the earl find and train a secretary. I have given my permission.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “But tonight, as I am leaving in the morning, I would ask that you attend to my things, and make a list of anything I should know before going home.” He glanced over at the earl. “You see how valuable a fellow he is, sir, and how much I depend upon him.”

  “Yes, Darkefell, I certainly understand what a sacrifice it is to lose Mr. Boatin, even for one month. Would that I could persuade you to loan him to me for longer, but I do not think I would test our friendship so far.”

  The earl had a twinkle in his gray eyes and for one brief moment Darkefell could see that Anne owed, in character, more to her father than to her mother. She had inherited from him her intelligence and perhaps even some portion of her sly wit.

  “I have something of import to discuss with you, my lord, something that cannot wait,” Darkefell said politely to the elder man. “It requires privacy, though. May we retire elsewhere to have a chat?”

  The humor died in the earl’s eyes and he nodded. “Yes, I see how it is. Shall we go to my study?”

  Osei took his arm and helped the earl to the hall, for the older man was stiff from sitting so long in an uncomfortable chair. Julius was seated with Mrs. Noonan again, talking and helping her untangle her wool, so Darkefell offered a good evening to the lady and his brother and exited. Once in the study, the earl took a seat by the fire, and there was some fuss as Lord Harecross had Epping command a footman to make up the fire then bring them some brandy and a cushion for his gouty foot, which he raised and put on the cushion.

  “Now,” said the earl, “concerning what do you wish to speak with me, Darkefell?”

  “I’m not sure if you’re aware, sir,” Darkefell said, sitting in a chair too close to the fire for his own comfort. “I have asked your daughter if she will accept my hand in marriage.”

  “And what has she said to you?” the earl asked gently, watching the other man’s eyes with a peculiarly intent gaze.

  “She is considering my offer,” Darkefell said stiffly. He waited for the earl to ask the appropriate questions; what he would settle on Anne in the way of pin money, what would be done with her dowry, and the practical aspects of other settlements.

  “Do you love her?” the earl asked.

  Darkefell gaped but quickly recovered. Why should he have expected the usual questions from the father of such an unusual woman? “I do,” he said simply.

  The earl did not reply.

  “I’ve never met anyone like her,” Darkefell confessed, compelled to add more to his bald statement. “She is the woman I did not know existed and did not know would suit me so well. Having been here, I can understand it now.”

  “Have you met her mother?”

  “I have,” Darkefell said, remembering his one visit to the elegant, overheated Bath townhome of the earl’s mother-in-law, the Viscountess Everingham, where the countess lived with her mother. He did not know why Anne’s mother lived apart from her husband and he didn’t really care. One half hour in the vain and capricious countess’s presence had made him understand how different Anne was from her mother. And he thanked God for it. Not that his own mother was easy to deal with. He was momentarily diverted by the thought of his mother and hers meeting. How would they ever find aught of which to speak?

  “Then perhaps you know that Anne has been pushed her whole life to marry for position, wealth, status. Not by myself! But those things are important to my wife and the world at large.” He paused. “But Anne … brave girl! She will only ever marry where love and conviction take her. If she agrees to marry you, sir, then you are a lucky man.”

  “Do you give your permission, then, Lord Harecross? If she agrees?”

  “I do.” There were tears in the old man’s eyes. He coughed and averted his gaze for a moment, swiping at his eyes. “On one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “If you ever attempt to impose your will on my daughter, sir, in any matter with which she disagrees, I will encourage her to come home. I have also managed her trust in such a way that her husband will have only limited access to it during his lifetime. It remains hers, separately. She does not think I understand financial matters, but I do, and she will always have her independence.”

  Stiffly, Darkefell said, “I think you must know, sir, that if I am so fortunate as to persuade Anne to marry me, it will only be after she wrings such promises from me as guarantee her freedom.”

  Unexpectedly, the earl laughed out loud and nodded, meeting the marquess’s gaze. He raised his glass of brandy in a mocking toast. “You do know my daughter, sir, and I feel more comfortable losing her to you, though if you know her so well, you understand how difficult losing her will be.”

  “I hope you know, my lord, that you will be welcome to visit Darkefell Castle any time. I think you would find it fascinating.” But now came a more delicate part of the conversation. Darkefell picked up his own brandy glass and swirled the ruby contents. “Anne has expressed concern over her brother, should … when … if …” He shook his head. How to speak of this?

  “When I die, you mean?” the earl said. “She has expressed concern over what will happen to Jamey?”

  Darkefell nodded. “She loves her brother. I told her, sir, that your son would be welcome at Darkefell, if that was what she decided would be best for him, in such a case. Whomever is dear to her has a place in my heart.”

  The earl smiled. “If you are serious and have thought this through, I know you are almost good enough for my daughter. Jamey is not an easy sort, poor fellow. I visit him once a week, you know, at Farfield Farm, and we are more alike than you would think, for he is devoted to his studies and remarkably effective. I believe that his notebooks will add to the science of plant and insect species of Kent.”

  “I do not doubt it, sir.”

  “I have been able to teach him some valuable methods of cataloguing his finds and expressing his various experiments. But he has his bad moments and his fits. Has Anne told you why he lives apart, at Farfield Farm?”

  “Yes, sir, she did. She told me how he hurt her accidentally.”

  “And did she tell you that my wife has never been the same since?”

  Darkefell shook his head. “No, sir, she rarely speaks of her mother.”

  “Ah, yes, it is a sore point. That is a raw subject, indeed.” He was silent for a moment, his gray eyes misty with some painful remembrance as he stared at the fire. “But Anne has never understood my poor wife. I am going to tell you a secret, sir, one that I have never spoken about with Anne; I think you will understand why. Barbara, my wife, blamed herself for that, for Anne’s accident, and for a number of other things. She blames herself also for not bearing a boy who could be a proper heir to the earldom.”

  “But that is hardly her fault, sir, nor was the accident.”

  “If I could only make her believe that, but Barbara is more sensitive than she ever reveals. It created a rift, gradually, that pain … a chasm in our marriage, if you will. I was not aware of it until we both fell headlong, as it were, into the break. I am trying to craft a letter to her. It is past time for a reconciliation, and I would like above all things for her to come home. I will confess to you too, young man, if Anne agrees to marry you, I have a sense it may be a healing juncture for our family. I sincerely hope so.”

  Darkefell gazed steadily at the man who would be his father-in-law, the periwig askew, the sagging jowls. There could not be a man more unlike his own father, the last marquess, who had been lean and active, a man of action, not of thought. “I join with you in that anticipation, sir. And trust me on this, I will do all in my power to effect a reunion between Anne and her mother, when we marry.”

  “Good. Good.” He rubbed his eyes.
“I am tired now, Darkefell, and wish to retire. Thank you for loaning Osei to me for a month. It is a valuable boon, indeed. Will you send Epping to me on your way out?”

  Darkefell stood and looked down at the old man, who passed his hand over his watery eyes. He needed time alone to come to terms with losing his beloved daughter to a northern marauder. “I’ll look after Anne, sir,” he said, just barely keeping his voice from breaking. “I love her deeply.”

  “I would not say yes to your suit otherwise, you can be sure.”

  He turned his face away and Darkefell slipped from the room, sending the butler up to aid his master.

  ***

  Preparing for such a swift and unexpected departure left Anne breathless and fretful. First, she rose at dawn and visited Farfield Farm, where Mrs. Jackson was recovering apace and Dorcas had become Jamey’s new favorite person. He followed her around, asking questions and getting in her way.

  Anne was a little concerned and pulled Dorcas aside near the kitchen hearth. “I’m not quite sure how to phrase this, Dorcas,” she said, watching the young woman’s pale blue eyes in a stream of morning sunlight that flooded the room through the tiny window. “If Jamey’s attentions should ever become a nuisance … that is, if he …” She trailed off, feeling the color flood her cheeks. She glanced around, but Mr. Jackson was off valeting Jamey. “If he ever touches you inappropriately, you have my permission to do whatever you need to do to protect your modesty,” Anne muttered. “He doesn’t understand a maiden’s right of refusal of a man’s advances, Dorcas, and though he would never force himself upon you, if you ever feel threatened or unhappy, please ask Sanderson to deal with him. Jamey knows him and respects him.”