Married Past Redemption

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Married Past Redemption Page 24

by Patricia Veryan


  “An enterprising lass,” murmured Strand. “Perhaps she’s not quite as innocent as we thought!”

  This brought a laugh from Norman and, from Judith, a scold not to interrupt.

  Continuing with her chapter, Lisette said, “One by one, Isabelle lured the guards into the cell where they were swiftly and silently overcome by the prisoners. Seizing the weapons of their former captors, Roderick’s friends also exchanged their poor rags for the fine uniforms the guards wore. Then, marching boldly into the square, they forced their way through the ululating mob to—”

  “The—what mob?” Strand interrupted curiously.

  “Ululating,” said Lisette with a defiant stare.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know perfectly well what it means! And if you spoil my—”

  “Oh, never mind,” Norman put in impatiently. “It means howling, Justin.”

  “Thank you,” said Strand. “I likely forgot the expression whilst I was in India. Cannot recall it was widely used over there.”

  “From what I had heard,” said Lisette, trying to restrain a smile, “you should have heard lots of ululating. You must have been in a very dull part.”

  “Then cheer him up with the rest of this exciting story!” wailed Judith.

  “The—er—ululating mob…” prompted Strand.

  “Oh, yes. Isabelle made her way to the guillotine just as poor Roderick’s head was forced onto the block. Baron Klug’s hand was upraised in the signal. The great blade glittered in the torchlight, and then Isabelle’s knife sliced Roderick’s bonds, and he sprang to his feet even as the blade of the guillotine came crashing down. ‘Hold!’ cried the Evil Tyrant, and—”

  The cry of the Evil Tyrant woke Bolster, who had dozed off in the warm carriage. Feeling very remiss in his duties, he yelped, “Chapter Five—Strand!”

  “Good heavens!” cried Strand. “Shoddy Rick flung—”

  “Roderick!” Lisette corrected sternly, over Bolster’s hilarity.

  “My apologies, m’dear. Roderick flung up his knife. The Evil Tyrant’s sword flashed to meet it. And there on the gallows with the crowd hushed and silent about them, they fought; the blades hissing and ringing as they engaged, the two men striving in a desperate fight to the death, the crowd—a sea of upturned faces—lit by the torches’ glare. And then gallant Roderick slipped on the uneven flooring of the scaffold. With a great sweep of his sword, the Evil Tyrant sent the dagger spinning from Roderick’s hand. The hilt of Klug’s sword flashed upwards and caught brave Roderick beneath the chin. Down he went, like a sack of meal upon the boards. A mighty roar went up from the breathless crowd, and—”

  “Hey, wait up!” cried Bolster, who had become interested. “You’ve got th-things all wrong, old fella.”

  “I have not,” said Strand, affronted. “It’s my part of the story. I can do as I please, can’t I, Norman?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “But what became of poor Isabelle?” asked Judith anxiously.

  Strand took up Lisette’s hand and kissed it. “Oh,” he said, “she married the Evil Tyrant. It is the way of real life, you know, Judith.” He turned to his wife and, remarking the dimple that swiftly vanished, asked with his teasing grin, “Ain’t that right, beloved?”

  With perfect justification, Lisette refused an answer.

  Chapter 14

  Strand Hall was gleamingly impressive in the late afternoon sunlight. Mrs. Hayward and Fisher came out onto the porch to greet the family and welcome his lordship, and Brutus went quite berserk, rushing from one owner to the other, barking madly, and leaping about, succeeding in muddying everyone until Strand cowed him with a firm “Down!” Despite the warm welcome they were accorded, Strand was quick to note the trace of worry in the eyes of both his butler and housekeeper. Rumour, he realized, had spread on the usual lightning links between servants’ halls, and his people likely were aware of everything that had transpired in London.

  Since the supplies for the boat venture were to be delivered at Silverings, the men left directly after breakfast the following day to supervise the unloading. Returning to the drawing room after watching them ride off, Lisette asked Judith what Miss Wallace had said of her various lengths of material.

  “Oh, she thought it very well done,” Judith said happily. “We were to start on the beige wool half-dress today, but I neglected to buy the braid, so we’ll likely make up the pink velvet instead.”

  “I am sorry, dearest! That wretched Strand! He rushed us so, I knew we would forget something.”

  “No, but he has been so good.” Judith slipped an arm about her as they started to the stairs. “I often think how he has changed all our lives. Can you credit the difference in my brother? I wonder Strand can bear it, he pesters him so.”

  “He does?”

  “Why, yes. Have you not noticed how Norman trails after him? He has taken your husband for his model, I suspect, and I doubt could have found a finer one.” Slanting an oblique glance at her sister, Judith read surprise in that lovely face, and added hurriedly, “Norman fairly badgered Strand to hurry our leaving yesterday, so we can scarce blame the poor man that I did not have time to purchase my braid.”

  Lisette pondered those words in the morning when she began to sort through the correspondence she’d not had time to attend to the previous day. She had not known their hurried departure had been the result of her brother’s manoeuvrings, and wished she had not scolded Strand so. Still, Judith might find less to admire in her brother-in-law did she know he beat his wife! And afterwards made not the slightest attempt to woo her forgiveness. The only time he’d really kissed her since the spanking episode had been in her bedchamber yesterday morning, and that only to impress Denise. The abigail had immediately left, of course, but her merry eyes had later conveyed quite clearly that she had seen that warm embrace. Lisette blushed a little as she remembered the touch of Strand’s lips, the strong hands gripping her shoulders. How wonderful to be kissed like that by someone who really cared; how wonderful if so sweet a caress was followed by words of passionate adoration, instead of being quizzically asked if her husband’s acting was adequate.… Did he treat his blond bird of paradise so? Or was there no need to act with that lady? She frowned and tore an invitation to fragments without first having read it. He would doubtless have again sought out his peculiar had he not been so busied with convincing all London Town that he adored his bride. Now that they were back in Sussex, however, he would probably lose no time in going to her. Lisette scowled at the torn scraps of paper between her fingers. Was that why he had offered to help Norman work on the boat? She’d thought it an excessively kind gesture, but perhaps it was merely a means to leave his wife while he consoled his amour. If truth be told, Strand actually meant to spend very little time at—

  “Your pardon, madam,” murmured the lackey, carrying in a calling card.

  Lisette whirled on him. “What is it?” she snapped.

  The lackey blinked, and made a rapid readjustment of his private opinion that Mrs. Strand was as calm and gentle as she was lovely.

  * * *

  A picnic was prepared the following morning, the girls having indicated an interest in viewing the efforts of the amateur shipbuilders. Two hampers were loaded into the chaise, together with the kitchen maid who was to preside over the feast. Her qualifications were evidently questionable, for no sooner were the hampers installed than Brutus leapt into the vehicle. The maid’s resultant hysteria alarmed the animal, but did not undermine his guarding instincts. As a result, demands to “get out at once!” were met with a craven crouch and much whining, but a marked disinclination to obey. Bolster, feeling responsible for the dog’s behaviour, volunteered to ride in the chaise and protect the maid, an excitable French emigrée who was niece to the cook and quite sure she would be devoured was “the beast énorme” not allowed into the hamper. Strand said with some heat that no servant or guest of his was going to be inconvenienced by a confounded b
acon-brained mongrel, but his preparations to oust the dog brought forth nervous protests from the ladies, while the maid declared she was about to fall into a fit. Outnumbered, he abandoned the effort and they started off, only an hour later than had been originally intended.

  The day was misty but with a promise of brightness that materialized to warm sunshine by the time they reached Silverings. Once again, Lisette’s heart lightened when they dismounted before the ruins, and Judith, who had not previously visited the estate, was enraptured and roamed about eagerly, exploring and admiring. The supplies for the boat renovations had been stored in the barn, together with the Silvering Sails, just now looking like nothing so much as a derelict fit only for firewood. Lisette said as much, but her brother indignantly proclaimed that the “old lady” was perfectly seaworthy and that a few repairs and new paint and varnish would work wonders with her.

  “But it is enormous!” said Judith dubiously.

  “It!” Norman snorted. “She, Judith! She!”

  “Whether an ‘it’ or a ‘she,’ the fact remains that you have, as usual, bitten off much more than you can chew, brother dearest!”

  “Pooh! Nonsense! Strand and I will have it done in the wink of an eye!”

  “Well, we—er—might require some helpers,” Strand said cautiously.

  “Oh, no!” cried Norman in tragic accents. “I had thought this was our undertaking, Justin. Just the two of us!”

  “And m-m-me,” Bolster put in aggrievedly.

  “Yes. You, of course, Jerry. Strand, never say you mean to import common workmen? Only think, we have Silverings close at hand. Do we decide to work late, we can always stay overnight.”

  “From the size of your boat,” remarked Lisette, watching Strand from under her lashes, “you might be obliged to move down here for a year—or more.”

  He considered her with a level, dispassionate gaze and said quietly, “It’s an idea, ma’am.”

  The gentlemen now became extremely occupied with an inspection of the vessel. She was a small yacht but, being shored up, did indeed look enormous in the barn. A flying spark from the fire that had gutted most of the house had ignited her sails, burnt the roof of the cabin, and well scorched the deck and the rails before the fire had been extinguished. The hull was sound, said Norman, but all the woodwork needed refinishing, new masts would have to be fitted, and the cabin rebuilt. The talk here became very technical; Lisette became lost in a discussion of shrouds and jibs and something called “the mizzen.” Judith drifted quietly away and, eventually following her example, Lisette wandered into the sunshine.

  There was no sign of Judith, but a merry conversation was being conducted in the livable part of the house, so it was likely the girl was inside, talking with the gardener’s wife. Lisette started to join them, but a sudden image of a dressing table holding a small bottle of scent rose before her mind’s eye, and she decided she did not care to go in just at the moment. Brutus was sitting beside the Dutch door, either guarding the house or the picnic hamper that had been carried there. Lisette sat on a bench for a while, enjoying the sunshine and stroking the dog. He howled when at length she stood and started to walk away, but although she called him and he wriggled eagerly, he could not bring himself to desert his post and sat moaning as she strolled away.

  There was such peace here, thought Lisette. The cries of mudhens and ducks, the soft splashing sounds of the river, the sweet fragrance of flowers. How Rupert Strand could have disliked Silverings, was—

  “Pssst!”

  Startled, she glanced around. She was by now out of sight of house and barn and it was quite lonely.… And then the low hanging branches of a willow tree parted. A handsome, eagerly smiling face was revealed. A gloved hand beckoned imploringly. For an instant, Lisette was too shocked to move. Then, hurrying to him, she cried, “Garvey! My God! Are you mad? If Strand sees you—”

  “Much I care.” He took her hand and drew her into the leafy privacy created by the gracefully trailing branches. Pressing her fingers to his lips, he murmured, “Oh, my dear—my beautiful love! If you but knew how—”

  Recovering her wits, she pulled her hands away. “I do indeed know, sir! I know the dreadful things you said to my husband! Flagrant untruths! And I know why! You thought to provoke him into a duel!”

  “Of course.” His adoring eyes searched her face. “You must have guessed what I was about. I know of no other way to free you from your wretched bondage, and can only offer my deepest apologies that I failed you.”

  “Failed me!” With a little cry of horror, she stepped back. “Mr. Garvey, I fear your intellect must have become disordered. When did I ever suggest so dreadful a thing? Why would you suppose I—”

  For answer he all but sprang to take her in his arms, saying breathlessly, “Your eyes, your smiles—you have told me in a thousand ways that my affections are returned. Never feel ashamed, beloved. You were not to blame for that travesty of a marriage!”

  “Stop! Oh, stop!” she cried, fighting to free herself. “If I gave you such an impression, I am heartily sorry for it. I was deeply moved by the poem you writ me, but I’d not meant to encourage your hopes.”

  He stared at her. “My poem? You—ah, liked it, then?”

  “Liked it! I thought it the loveliest thing. And it came at a time when I was rather downhearted. Truly, I was exceeding grateful, but—”

  “It came from my soul.” He smiled. “Lisette, you do not love that ill-bred boor. He has neither looks nor address, and aside from his fortune is totally beneath you! If—”

  Her hands clenched into small fists, her eyes flashing, Lisette flared, “How dare you speak so of my husband! Ours may not have been a love match, but Strand has been all that is good! Our only real quarrel was occasioned because you told him such wicked lies!”

  “For which the brute beat you savagely, so I heard!” He sank to one knee before her, looking up, and said in a near-groan, “Lord! When I heard of it I thought I must run mad! Your beautiful self abused by that crudity who is not worthy to kiss your little shoe! And now, in your sweet loyalty, you defend the creature! How like you! Oh, Lisette! Lisette! To think I brought such misery upon the lady I worship!”

  His voice broke with the intensity of his emotion, and bending lower, he seized the hem of her dress and pressed kisses upon it. Aghast, Lisette drew away, staring down at him. Judith was not the only Van Lindsay to harbour a romantic nature. Beneath Lisette’s cool and graceful poise beat a heart yearning for the romance she now feared would never come her way save, as Grandmama had implied, through the “side door.” She had been revolted by Garvey’s behaviour, and she had no wish to take him for a lover, but his tender poem and this abject display of worship could not but move her. Thus, instead of firmly rebuking him, as she knew she should do, she said rather unsteadily, “What you have heard or—or been told, I cannot guess. But, I do assure you that Strand has never—”

  He came to his feet in a lithe bound and gripped her arms. “I have heard only what all London has heard. Ah, never look so pale, dear loyal soul! Did you think to silence servant-hall gossip? Rumours swept Town like wildfire and before noon the next day everyone knew. Many discounted the tales. Not I! I knew all too well how that crude savage would serve you, God forgive him!”

  “No!” she cried in desperation. “Whatever people say, Strand has never been really brutal to me. You should not have come here, James. I am married, and—”

  “Yes, so you told me once before, my dearest. Married past redemption, you said, but—”

  “I did not! That is—I did not mean it in such a way. I was—I had not— Oh, why will you persist in—”

  He tightened his hold as she attempted to draw back. “You promised,” he intervened tenderly, “to send for me if he ill-treated you. Why did you not? Did you think I had failed you in the matter of the duel, and would fail again?” He overrode her shocked denial, and went on in a louder voice, “I was compelled, my adored Fair. Claude Sanguinet once
discovered a slight indiscretion committed by a member of my immediate family. He threatened to make the matter public if I oppose him in the Strand situation.”

  Intrigued, despite herself, Lisette asked, “But why? One would think he had every reason to loathe the Strands after Rachel jilted him and married Leith. Why would he choose to stop your duel?”

  “Because I am known to be his friend. He does not want it thought that my challenge to Strand was issued at his instigation.”

  She frowned. “It all sounds most weird. But the important thing is that you must go at once, and forget about me. How you found me here, I cannot think, but—”

  “I followed you. I have been staying in Horsham, praying for a chance to see you, and was watching the Hall when you left this morning.”

  Touched, she said, “James, I am so sorry. But you must find another lady!”

  He drew her closer. “Foolish little love. How could I exist were I to give up hope that someday you and I will—”

  “Lisette? Lisette … where are you?”

  Lisette paled. “Bolster! Oh, heavens! James, you must go!”

  “Only if you promise to meet me.”

  He bent to kiss her, but she swung her face away. “No! Can you not accept my refusal? I do not want to hurt you, but you must not continue to pursue me!”

  “Li-sette…?”

  The voice was very close. With a frightened gasp, she tore free. “Go! For pity’s sake, go!” she hissed desperately, and stepping into the sunshine again, came almost face to face with Lord Bolster. “Here I am,” she cried, smiling, but her heart racing with fright. “Is the boat finished then, my lord?”

  She could not know how white and frightened she looked. Bolster frowned, and his eyes shifted to the leafy screen behind her.

  “Yes. And S-Strand and Norman ready to sail off to sea, taking our f-foo f-foo- luncheon with them. I thought you had become lost and have been looking for you this age.”

 

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