by Jo Beverley
The smile widened and his eyes lit.
He was laughing at her?
She cocked the pistol, the click, click loud in the room.
“You won’t fire it,” he said.
“Oh, won’t I?” Claris closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.
A tremendous boom deafened her.
* * *
Ellie came downstairs, having finally settled Claris in bed with a soothing draft.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have put powder in the barrel.”
“I decided that if she had reason to fire it, it might as well make a bang.”
Ellie rubbed her ears. “Nearly deafened me, but grand to see.”
“A girl of spirit. Don’t know why she’s fallen apart over it.”
“From knowing she tried to kill a man? And that if she had she’d hang for it?”
“I suppose that would shake her. All very interesting, isn’t it? I mean his story.”
Ellie returned to her damsons. “You sure he’s right for her?”
“Why do you think I am?”
“You reminded him of the twins.”
Athena shrugged. “He’ll have his way. Best if she goes willingly and on her own terms.”
“She’ll do it for the boys?”
“Of course she will, and they won’t appreciate the sacrifice. Born and bred to be selfish; that’s the male of the species.”
“Then why help him?”
“Claris is worthy of more than Old Barford and Lavender Cottage.”
Ellie gave her a look. “You intend more for yourself too.”
“Of course. It’s amused me to play at herbal lore among yokels, but I weary of it. Winter looms and I’ll not endure that again.”
“It wasn’t so very bad.”
“You nearly died of pneumonia and my bones tortured me. I intend that Claris be mistress of a pleasant country house by then, with all its income in her hands.”
“I’ll not see her forced into marriage against her will, and I’m surprised you would.”
“She isn’t me, Ellie. There’s no other life for her in this unjust world, and Perriam seems a decent enough man.”
“All the same, I might well load a pistol with ball next time.”
Chapter 7
Perry didn’t dawdle at the inn but rode straight back to Cheynings. He entered the house from the back, coming from the stables, and encountered Genova in the hall.
“Success?” she said with obvious surprise.
“Am I so transparent?”
“I can almost see banners waving. Or bloody heads on pikes.”
“The world seems distressingly void of ladies with sensitive minds.”
“And of men who understand the complexity of women,” she retorted. “What happened?”
“She shot me.”
She looked him over. “To little effect, it seems.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed. I was doing nothing more than trying to persuade her to see sense.”
“With a superior tone, I’m sure. A pity she missed.”
“She didn’t. It was very close range. The pistol lacked a ball.”
“Careless of her.”
“Or careful of whoever prepared it.”
“You seem in remarkably high spirits over it.”
“She’s a remarkable woman.”
“But you also sense victory. You’re not going to threaten to take her to court, are you?” She glanced at the footman. “We can’t talk here. Come to my boudoir. Ashart’s away, but I can’t wait for the tale.”
Perry went upstairs. He liked Genova’s cozy paneled room and it seemed a good place to savor victory.
As they both sat, he said, “Miss Mallow has brothers.”
“Who are large and strong and will defend her from vile imposition?”
“Who are eleven years old and likely to have a hard road without money and patronage.”
“Oh, by the stars. She’ll sacrifice herself for them?”
He was surprised by her outrage. “Her duty, surely.”
“Why? Is the family so impoverished that they lack education?”
“Not that I know, but the bare bones of an education are not the same as what I could offer.”
“The bare bones will do, however, if they have brains and resolution. Then there’s always the navy. They could go now as cabin boys. Many have risen from there to admiral.”
“Even there they’ll rise more easily with patronage; don’t deny it.”
Her lips tightened, which was an admission, but Perry had been surprised by her reaction. Of course she wasn’t cast from a common mold. He’d heard that she’d shot and killed a Barbary pirate who’d tried to capture her to sell to a harem.
“If you’d had a younger brother, would you have felt the same?” he asked.
“The situation would never have arisen.”
“Imagine it. By some disaster you were left orphaned and with little money, with a young brother hardly out of childhood for whom you care. A gentleman offers marriage which will provide comfort and security for you and a bright future for your brother. Would you reject it so absolutely?”
She frowned. “Annoying man. Probably not. Unless the marriage was abhorrent to me.”
“There is no reason for this marriage to be abhorrent to Miss Mallow.”
“That is for her to judge.”
“Unreasonable woman! There’s no reason for this marriage to be abhorrent to her, because I’ve promised that after the vows are said I will leave her completely to her own devices.”
Genova cocked her head. “That does remove many objections. However, before the law you would still be her master.”
“As Ashart is yours.”
“A factor that weighed with me, I assure you. Love is the very devil.”
Perry laughed. “Not something that will trouble Miss Mallow and me. And thus, we will both be perfectly comfortable.”
She still looked dissatisfied, but she didn’t press her point.
“I was reminded of the boys by the grandmother, so I have an ally there. Grannie Mallow is no rural witch but a lady of some stature. I’ll discover more when I have time. She said she fled her marriage, and someone in the inn said she was of noble birth. She’s certainly ill suited to Lavender Cottage.”
“Then she probably seeks improvement for herself, even at her granddaughter’s expense. And thus you are triumphant.”
“You sound as if you’d prefer that I fail.”
“I would.”
“Why?”
“Because your path always seems so smooth.”
“Dear lady, only because I take care to smooth it before I step forward. Giles Perriam pushed me onto a rough track lined with brambles, but now all is straight again.”
Perhaps she growled. “Oh, I do hope she says no.”
“And I hope you’re wrong. Tomorrow, I put it to the test.”
Ashart came in then, and Perry told the tale again. Ashart found it amusing but said, “If you’re going to be a landowner, you might want to accompany me on some business after dinner.”
“I intend that my wife manage the estate.”
“But you’ll want to supervise.”
Perry wouldn’t, but he didn’t argue the point. Riding around the Cheynings estate would be no penance. However, Genova’s reaction jangled in his mind. She still hoped for resistance, and he wanted the matter settled.
* * *
That evening, as they took coffee in the drawing room, Perry turned to Genova and said, “You mentioned wooing Miss Mallow.”
“And you rejected the very idea,” Genova pointed out.
“I’m reassessing.”
“Not so certain that Miss Mallow will sacrifice herself for the good of men?”
“I wish to ensure it, to persuade her that she, as well as her brothers, will benefit. Thus I will woo her, but not with trinkets and love poems. With samples of the pleasures to come.”
“Seduction in
a cottage?” Ashart said, brows raised.
“There are other pleasures. I’ll seduce her with comforts she must be missing and luxuries she’s not yet known.”
“You are a devious man,” Genova said.
“You would condemn her to her dismal life?”
“Perriam . . . ,” Ashart warned.
Genova frowned, but in thought. “Am I doing that? It’s only that I resent her being manipulated by an expert.”
“To her own good. You’ll know better than I what a lady would value as samples of future comfort.”
“So now you seek to recruit me?”
“If she’s tempted, she’s tempted. If she truly doesn’t value comfort and earthly pleasures, she’ll disdain the bait.”
Genova looked at her husband. “What do you see as the right thing to do?”
“Miss Mallow’s current situation offers little hope. Perriam can provide better, though at some cost to himself.”
“Cost to himself?” she queried, surprised.
“By all we’ve heard, Miss Mallow comes from a dubious background. Her father may have been mad, and her mother was deranged by grief. Her aunt could have believed in witchcraft and certainly attempted a curse. Miss Mallow can be driven to a murderous rage and her grandmother dabbles in herbal lore. If she is, as Perriam said, highborn, what story brought her to the ramshackle cottage? She could be any kind of rogue and bring a new scandal into his family.”
“Why didn’t you point this out before?”
“It seemed obvious apart from the pistol. Add that a husband is legally liable for his wife’s debts and crimes and he’s paying a high price to keep an old estate in his family.”
Genova glared at Perry. “Am I now to see you as the victim? I hope she makes you thoroughly miserable.”
“Genova is nothing if not irrational in her passions,” Ashart murmured.
“Wretch. Very well, I will advise you, Perriam, but at a price.”
“Price?”
“If she agrees to marry you, I will be on her side. She’ll need assistance when moving so many steps up in society, and I’ll advise her on that. I’ll also make sure she knows her rights, such as they are. There will be settlements, sir, carefully written by Ashart’s lawyers.”
Perry smiled. No wonder Ashart had been smitten into marrying a woman without status or wealth.
“Of course. I truly do not wish Miss Mallow ill. I simply wish this done. May we act now? Will you help me assemble gifts that would tempt any woman down to Hades?”
“That,” said Genova, “is not a promising phrase. Let us at least aim at purgatory. For both of you.”
Chapter 8
The next day Claris did put on more stylish clothes, for if Perriam returned, she felt the need of some dignity. Even so, she chose her simplest, consisting of a russet skirt, a blue bodice, and a plain, practical apron. Perhaps such clothing would knock home how unsuited she was to be his wife.
Unlikely. Pestilential Perriam didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him. She could be an uncouth slattern with crossed eyes and he’d still insist. She’d try to resist any pressure, but she knew she’d put a powerful weapon in his hands. Why, oh, why had she given in to her temper and fired that pistol?
Feeling like a condemned prisoner awaiting the gallows, she went downstairs and out to get the eggs. When she returned, Ellie asked what the matter was.
“He’ll threaten to drag me to court for trying to kill him. How can I resist that?”
“Lord save us, dearie. You did nothing but deafen us all.”
“But I tried to kill him.”
“But didn’t even scratch him.”
Athena came down. “Ellie’s right. What’s more, we’re his only witnesses.”
“You’d lie for me?”
Athena seemed astonished. “Without hesitation.”
A little of the weight lifted. “He’ll still pester me to marry him.”
“Yes, but remember his words. You hold the power. You can dictate terms.”
“I don’t want to marry him on any terms!”
Athena rolled her eyes. “Then come and learn the herbal trade. You’ll need some means of earning pennies.”
Claris went into the front room with her grandmother. “I could set up a school.”
“And be paid with eggs and butter.”
“I’d need little when I’m alone here.”
She tossed that out to see Athena’s reaction. The lack of one showed that she did intend to leave. It wasn’t surprising, for she and Ellie were used to a wandering life, but also to one better than this damp, drafty cottage. For all their vigor, they were old. Presumably Athena must have enough money set by to afford a more comfortable place to live, but of course it would suit her better if Claris provided a manor house.
Athena gave Claris a bowl of borage and told her to pick the leaves neatly from the stalks, then left her alone with her thoughts.
They were rather dismal. Athena and Ellie would leave, and so would her brothers. When they went to school in Winchester she’d rarely see them. It was fifty miles away and even the simplest travel was expensive.
She could move to Winchester.
Yes, why not? They could even live at home, which would be more economical. Finding one solution heartened her. Surely she could solve the Perriam problem as well.
Athena returned to inspect her work. “You’re leaving too much stalk on those. Have you made up your mind?”
“I’ve told you, I won’t marry him. I won’t marry anyone.”
“Then I leave you to your own devices. I’m off to deliver a cough linctus to Mistress Norris and I’ll take Ellie with me. She deserves an outing.”
Claris dropped the borage and pursued her grandmother into the kitchen. “You’re abandoning me?”
“I’ve left the pistol on the sideboard. This time it’s loaded.”
“Ellie?”
Ellie was putting on her hat. “I’m sure you’ll do what’s best, dearie. You’re a sensible girl at heart.”
When they’d left, Claris was fixed in place.
Alone already.
Abandoned.
Why was life so unfair?
Yatta meowed, as if to say that he was still there, and leapt up to sniff the pistol. It looked no different than it had yesterday, but now it was loaded. It could kill.
She shuddered at the thought and put it carefully in a drawer.
“I won’t hang for him,” she said to the cat. “That truly would be a fate worse than marriage.”
Yatta leapt down and sauntered over to lie in the sunlit doorway.
“On guard?” Claris asked, but drily. The cat was already asleep.
She went back to the herbs, but that task left too much space in her mind for worry, so she set about an inventory of the pantry, scrubbing shelves as she cleared them.
Someone knocked at the front door.
She froze, heart leaping in panic, and her first impulse was to ignore the knock. Perriam wouldn’t hesitate to come in search of her, though, and she’d not be found cowering.
She marched off to open the door.
The visitor wasn’t Perriam. It was Farmer Barnett, tall, sturdy, and smiling.
She had to put a hand to the doorjamb to steady herself.
He offered a shallow basket. “We’ve been slaughtering some lambs, Miss Mallow, and I thought you might like a joint and some sweetbreads. For Grandma Pollock’s liniment.”
“How kind,” Claris said, taking the gift and also seeing a new defense against invaders. “Do you have time to come in and tell me how your family goes along?”
He turned pink, eagerly ducked through the doorway, and followed her through to the kitchen. Too late, Claris remembered that he might be courting her. This gift was too much for liniment. She’d resolved not to encourage him, but marrying someone else would be the perfect defense against Perriam.
At least she knew Barnett and knew him to be honest and tru
e. He was a well-set-up young man in excellent health who owned a sizeable farm.
Head whirling, Claris sat at the table and waved him to a seat opposite. He was the catch of Old Barford. If she rejected his offer, the village would think her the rector’s mad daughter in truth.
“Does your grandmother need more ointment, Mr. Barnett? I know where it’s kept.”
“Nay, she’s well enough now, thanks be to God, with the weather still warm. But it did her well in the winter.”
“And how is your family?”
“All in fine trim, Miss Mallow, thank the Lord.”
“Amen.”
“And yours?”
“The same.” A silence fell. “How go the crops?” she tried.
“The weather’s been fair, so all should go well, the Lord allowing.”
“And your animals?”
“Fat and fine, God be praised.”
Could she endure such banal conversation? The whole family was the same. They used words sparingly but frequently called on the Lord. Though they attended the parish church, they were more of a Methodist persuasion. They dressed and lived soberly and never took part in village festivities such as May Day and the maypole, calling them pagan.
No, she’d run mad within a month.
Alas, he was a fate worse than Perriam. How was she to get rid of him before he made the offer?
“It’s particularly kind of you to stop by,” she said. “You must be busy at this time of year.”
He blushed again. “I have time to enjoy your company, Miss Mallow.”
“And I yours, sir, but I was in the middle of a task, which is why you find me so plainly dressed.”
“I’d like to see you more finely dressed. . . .” His blush spread up to his hair. “I mean, all the time. Well, not when in kitchen work . . .”
Struggling with laughter, Claris said, “It’s wise to dress appropriately for each occasion, isn’t it?”
“What I meant to say, Miss Mallow . . .”
Another knock at the door.
Thank the Lord!
“I wonder who that can be?” Claris asked, leaping up to answer it.
When she opened the door, giggles threatened.
Apparently it was to be the battle of the baskets, but Perriam’s would win. His was a wicker box with a lid and latch. Heaven alone knew what it contained.