Indeed, it did not. Meg’s certainty wavered. The man’s audacity seemed boundless-to place her in such straits, and then play the philosopher.
“Having gained his end with me he is now strangely keen to dissuade me. Did he say anything further about the attractive circumstances in which I shall find myself?”
“Well, let me see … I don’t remember much he said because I was anxious to get back here to you as soon as I could. As you know I … I do not like the man … “
“To put it mildly, Annie!”
“… and as I had to remember about the coach and time and all. But he did say he was `eager to get on with the business’ and he said you must `come to him whole’-no, wholly, and that there would be no goin’ back. I think he thought to remind you that you mayn’t never return to your father, who would be unlikely to welcome you home.”
Meg swallowed. This was hardly in the nature of wooing her to her future. Could the man have scruples after all? But no, she should not hope as much. “Come to him wholly” was clear enough. Meg sensed she would be measuring years before she felt whole again.
Annie had rung for tea and was carefully laying out Meg’s best traveling dress. Given her earlier anger and obstinacy, Meg found Annie’s calmness now difficult to fathom. But Annie had always had a practical nature, and they had little time in which to ready themselves for a momentous departure. Meg could only be grateful. She found reassurance in Annie’s silence and in her promised company. However unsavory the future she would at least have that.
Once the tea tray arrived, Annie left to gather her own belongings. Meg settled herself to eat something. Part of her wanted to see her father, to explain. But he would prevent her from going-and she had to go. She hoped Annie was carefully masking her own preparations to leave.
The household’s eagerness to carry tales was only too obvious upon Annie’s return.
“Mrs. Ferrell came visiting, an’ your father said you had to rest, so Miss Lucinda has gone out with her to make some calls. And Mr. Bertram has gone to see to the horses, to make certain they are ready to travel tomorrow.” Annie ignored the catch in Meg’s breath and carefully averted her gaze. “Mr. Wembly-that’s the doctor, Mr. Walter-came to see your father. An’ Giles, that’s Lady Billings’s under footman as you know, took them some refreshments an’ believes Mr. Walter must have made an offer. Because Giles said Sir Eustace was saying as how he would have to consult Miss Margaret on the state of her heart. Giles said, let’s see … that Sir Eustace said that `in all honesty I believe her inclinations lie elsewhere’. An’ Doctor Wembly looked a bit like a sick sheep, or so Giles said, an’ left soon after.” Annie at last looked up at her. “Mayhap you should be consulting your heart, Miss Meg.”
“I do not need to consult my heart, Annie. I know very well what it has to say to me. It would have me be foolishand see harm come to Mr. Cabot. I cannot suffer so. I cannot see him lost in such a pointless manner. In a … a clash of honor. So I do not rely on my heart. It must be stored away”
“You think your honor pointless?” Annie asked hotly.
“Against a man’s life? Yes I do.”
Annie was shaking her head again.
“You are very young, Miss Meg. You do not understand men”
“That is unquestionably true, Annie. And now I am unlikely ever to understand them-since I go not to a man but to a devil.”
Annie fell silent as they finished packing Meg’s bag. Then she offered to take it downstairs to join hers by the kitchen steps. Annie had told the other servants that she was readying her own belongings for the journey to Selboume the next morning. Annie would keep an eye out for the quiet period, before the kitchen’s preparations for dinner began, when they might slip out into the alley. She would collect Meg shortly.
Meg packed a few favorite books and personal items into a satchel. At the last minute she pulled several violets from the bowl Cabot had sent her, and pressed them between two sheets of vellum. They seemed little enough, to sustain a lifetime.
When Annie returned and said it was a good time to take their leave, Meg handed her the note for Cabot.
“I don’t wish this to go from the house, Annie. Perhaps you know how it might be forwarded?”
“Is it to him, then?” Annie asked, reminding Meg that she knew very few of her letters.
Annie took the note and slipped it into a pocket in her skirts.
“There’s a boy who runs errands for the houses around here. I’ll give it to him. Are you ready now, Miss Meg? Your father is resting, an’ everyone else is still out. But we must be quiet”
Meg nodded and followed Annie down the several flights of stairs to the kitchen door in back. Annie had thoughtfully found two umbrellas and placed them at the ready. Though the rain had stopped, it threatened to return. When they opened the door Meg realized the evening had turned chilly as well. She was grateful for the light wool traveling cloak that Annie had recommended.
She silently voiced a farewell to her family as she followed Annie out into the damp. She silently voiced a farewell to Cabot as they walked past the high garden wall he had surveyed only the previous night. The whole world looked gray. At the mews entrance she could see a large black coach and four dark horses. Two men sat above with the coachman, while another, mounted separately behind, held the reins for an additional saddle horse.
Meg had insisted on carrying her own bag the few hundred feet down the alley. As she and Annie made their way, one of the men from atop the carriage jumped to the ground to come toward them.
For a second Meg’s breath caught, for he was tall, like Cabot, and something in his bearing, even in a highcollared greatcoat, reminded her of him. But as he neared them, Meg noticed his black hair beneath an obscuring wide-brimmed hat. As he reached to relieve them of their bags, she also noticed the flash of bright blue eyes. It wasn’t Cabot he resembled, but someone else …
“Miss?” He had stowed the bags and now offered a hand to help her up into the coach. Again Meg felt the scrutiny of those keen eyes. She looked around for Annie, only to find that her maid had already scrambled atop to the box. Annie’s desertion surprised and hurt her.
Meg refused to look toward Sutcliffe’s cloaked form in the opposite corner of the coach. As they started up, she settled as far away from him as possible and stared down the mews toward her aunt’s garden wall.
“Are you pleased, my lord Sutcliffe?” she asked distantly.
“I am far from pleased. I am not your Lord Sutcliffe. But as you are determined to shame yourself, I shall serve as well as the next man”
Meg met Cabot’s gaze. In the dimness she could not read his expression. But she did not have to.
She turned to the window and closed her eyes. She permitted herself a few seconds of relief-even of joy. Then the anxiety and restraint returned.
“How did you know?”
“Annie,” he bit out. “At least she has some sense. Thank God for her.”
When Meg glanced back at him she saw that Cabot had resumed his observation of the wet streets behind them. He must despise her.
“This coach,” she said, nervously stroking the upholstered leather seat, “is it ..
“Hayden’s,” he supplied shortly.
“And that man-the footman, or .. “
“My cousin David. Major Trent, Lord David. I apologize if he was rude. He’s been foxed for six days running.”
“Oh no, he was not rude at all. I thought I recog-”
“We are all armed, Miss Lawrence. Hayden rides with the coachman and Annie, and an outrider with David postern.”
“Why are you armed?”
“Should Sutcliffe pursue you. Lady Billings’s home may have been watched today as well. In fact, that is likely.”
Meg fell silent for a moment. Even as the earl had awaited her answer he had probably spied upon her.
“How did Annie find you?” she asked.
Cabot pulled a card from his waistcoat pocket and tos
sed it across to her.
“From the violets I sent you as an apology. For presuming so much against your innocence.”
“I did nothing with Lord Sutcliffe.” “
“Except promise him everything. I read the note you sent with Annie. You volunteered, Margaret Lawrence. After so much from so many. After your father!” He did not give her a chance to respond. She would have told him that he meant even more. “When did you decide? After you saw him at the studio? Annie told me of your meeting.”
I decided this morning-not before.” She turned again to the window. “I had no choice.”
“No choice?” His voice, his presence in the confines of the coach, affected her alarmingly. She wanted only to sit with him, to have him pretend to love her once more. Yet his anger fed her hesitance.
When she glanced at him again his dark gaze was fixed on her.
“How could you?” he asked. There was such disdain in the question that she did not know what to say. “What did he promise you? Your note said you would go to him with the understanding that he would keep his promise. What did he promise you?”
Meg looked down at her clasped hands. It hardly mattered now. If Sutcliffe had not heard from her all day, if his spies had witnessed this venture, it was all for naught.
“Whatever his promise,” Cabot concluded at her silence, “he was most unlikely to have kept it. You may be assured of that” As she looked to him again he said, “I see you keep confidence with Sutcliffe-when it never occurred to you to come in confidence to me”
“Given how understanding you have been, that is hardly surprising.”
“Understanding? My dear Miss Lawrence, how can I be understanding when I’ve been given no explanation? Last night you might have said anything to me, and I’d have shown you as much understanding as you could desire. As I recall, I even asked if Sutcliffe had attempted to see you. You did not tell me the truth. You had no faith in me. You do not trust me” He turned grimly to the window again.
“I do trust you. I trust you in every way but … but one” She did not trust him to get the better of Sutcliffe. In all else she would trust him with her life. “He killed Douglas,” she said aloud.
“Douglas was a brave boy. I am not a boy. And increasingly, I feel myself a match for Lord Sutcliffe-in everything base”
The claim gave her pause, though she did not believe it.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked faintly.
“To be wed, Miss Lawrence. Most opportunely. Since I am at this moment compromising you”
“I cannot..
“If you could contemplate going wholly and forever to Sutcliffe, you can certainly resign yourself to ten minutes of vows with me. It will be most proper and aboveboard, I guarantee it. I have a special license, through Clare, who happens to be a great friend of the Archbishop”
“Sutcliffe .. “
“Must face disappointment,” he retorted. “I am determined that your life shall be your own”
“By marrying me?”
He appeared to shrug.
“As a method, ‘tis nothing-a construct.”
“Nothing,” she repeated. “A construct? Like one of the landscape impositions you so disdain, a picturesque grotto, perhaps? Or more aptly a folly! I think more highly of marriage than you do, sir.”
“Oh, I agree-the Countess of Sutcliffe sounds very high indeed”
“I had thought,” she choked out, “more highly of you.”
“And I of you. So, Miss Lawrence, we are at pointe non plus. “
She was crying, but in the darkness she knew he could not see. She dared not raise a hand to her face. She could not believe they could reproach each other so.
“By marrying me, you will have choice,” he said, though he spoke to the dark window. The carriage lights had not been lit. “You will have choice beyond anything you could otherwise have envisaged. And you will have the protection of Braughton-and of Hayden. You need not spend a moment more thinking of Sutcliffe-not one second. Unless you choose to. And you will have Brookslea…” For a moment he fell silent. He was relaying his reasoning, as calmly as possible. Meg knew she should have been grateful, but she could not be grateful for such coldness.
“Once wed, you may choose to do as you please. You will be a young and wealthy wife. You may follow the path of the Comtesse d’Avigne, whom you so admire. Perhaps you will soon be a young and wealthy widow. Then no one, not even Miss Lawrence of Selbourne, can censure you.”
“You mean to fight him.”
“I do”
Meg slid toward him across the seat.
“Do not” She reached to touch his broadcloth cloak. “Let us go away from here. Now-tonight! He will not follow the both of us. We might go anywhere-the Continent, the West Indies …”
“I have wandered too much,” he said. He stared at her gloved hand on his cloak. “And it is not what you choose”
“But it is what I choose! I choose it now, freely, before we are wed, before you confront him-while there is still choice!” She edged closer to him, so that her skirts brushed one of his boots, and spread her fingers upon his knee. “Will you not take me away?”
She was close enough now to see his face more clearly. Given the passion of her plea his expression was frustratingly blank. And his dark eyes were hooded.
“Mere minutes ago you were fleeing to Sutcliffe”
“I know. But you do not understand. I did that because … because..
“Yes? Because you simply tired of telling him no? Because you wish to be a countess? Because you preferred his bonbons to my violets? Dieu m’en garde!”
“Oh please … stop .. ” Meg covered her face with her hands.
In the silence she tried to steady her breathing, then Cabot asked again, “What did he promise you?” This time his voice broke. “What could it possibly have been?”
“He promised to spare you. He promised me your life.”
In the instant quiet, Meg heard the rain begin in earnest on the carriage roof. The horses were slowing, the coachman called to them as the wheels stopped. Cabot moved closer, directly across from her, and gently pulled her hands from her cheeks. They sat knee to knee as she looked up into his eyes.
When Lord Hayden opened the door, both of them glanced to the side.
“Wait!” Cabot said, and his hold on her hands tightened.
“We were followed, Chas,” Hayden said. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat. “Two men. One’s remained here across the road. There’s little time.”
Cabot sighed and released her hands. He stepped out into the damp. Meg rose to follow him. Instead of simply taking her hand he clasped her at the waist and swung her completely clear of the puddled street. One arm remained possessively about her. Meg watched Annie and Major Trent entering a stone house set back amid some trees.
Hayden handed Cabot an umbrella, which he carried as he walked her to the front of the house. Inside, in the modest hallway, he pulled her urgently to the side.
“One minute,” he told Hayden. “Just one minute.”
Hayden shook his head, but turned into a parlor, where Meg could see Annie, the major, and two gentlemen in collars. Then Cabot blocked her view. He stood so close she caught the scent of his cloak’s damp wool.
“Sutcliffe bargained my life for your compliance?”
Meg nodded as she held his gaze.
“He would not have kept his promise,” he said. “Even had he tried, which I sincerely doubt, I would not have let him keep it. Not at that price.” He took one of her hands, and raised it to his lips. Even through her glove his kiss was warm. Meg’s other hand sought his chest. She wanted simply to cling to him.
“It seems to be my habit,” he added softly, “to misuse what little time I have with you. Forgive me, Meg. But we must do this now. At once”
“Why?”
“Because it is the only way to protect you. Because it draws another line that Sutcliffe might hesitate to crosswhether I am to h
and or not. Marriage works to the advantage of both of us, and distinctly to his detriment.”
“How does it work-to your advantage?”
Cabot smiled down at her.
“When I meet him-he shall know it.”
“You must meet him?”
“If he calls me out. And he will.”
“I cannot bear it.”
Again he kissed her hand.
“I shall survive it. You must expect me to. But now we must hurry.” He turned to glance at the others, talking softly in the further room.
“Is it … is it real?” Meg asked, following his gaze. They were clergymen, but this was not a church.
Again he smiled.
“You must ask the rector here. I believe he is properly ordained. If not, I shall happily repeat myself.”
Meg drew breath.
“You must know…”
“Chas,” Hayden said sharply from the doorway. There was little of the aloof marquis in his manner at the moment.
“Yes” Cabot again slid an arm about her waist. Meg reached up to remove her bonnet as they walked into the parlor. She focused only on the arm at her waist and the kindly features of the rector.
“Are we ready, then?” he asked.
Even as Meg nodded he began to speak. Meg heard something less than words-something like a soothing incantation. She heard the rain spattering against the windows; she was aware that Annie stood at her side. She heard what sounded like ten names for Cabot before she was asked to say “I do” She knew he raised her hand and pulled off her glove. He slid a ring on to her finger. It was heavy and unfamiliar. She glanced at it briefly before Cabot kissed her even more briefly, just to the side of her lips. Then Annie took her bonnet from her numb hands.
“Miss Meg,” she said. “Please remove your cloak. I must change with you.”
Meg obeyed, fumbling with the clasp at her throat before shedding the soft blue wool. She exchanged it for Annie’s gray homespun and chip straw bonnet. Meg hastily signed the license and register: Margaret Rowe Lawrence.
Cabot led her back into the hall, but took her toward the rear of the small house. He kept that reassuring arm about her waist.
Quiet Meg Page 16