Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran)

by Jo Beverley

  “I assume it will do for the night at least,” he said. “You will know best if they’d want separate rooms.”

  “No.”

  “Or separate beds.”

  “No. But there must be a children’s area here? Nurseries, schoolroom, small bedchambers?”

  “There is, but it’s long unused except for infants.”

  “I should at least look.”

  “I advise against,” he said.

  Ah, the dead babies.

  “After all,” he said, “nurseries are unlikely to see use in our time.”

  Why she should feel a touch of sorrow over that, she didn’t know.

  “I should show you something else,” he said. “Something outside.”

  His tone disturbed her, but whatever it was had best be faced.

  Chapter 16

  They left the house by a side door near the kitchens. As best she could tell, the kitchens, storerooms, and such were clean and in good repair. The door took them into an area of herbs that would interest Athena.

  “The walls over there enclose the kitchen garden. It seems in reasonable condition but could be improved. Giles only visited here occasionally, which is why there’s some neglect. This way.”

  A graveled path led along the side of the house, and ahead stood a dense green hedge.

  “Yew?” she guessed, but was puzzled. It was six feet high, but not very long. “A maze?”

  “I wish it were.”

  When they passed the hedge, she found it was one of three walls around a grassed area containing five stone plinths. On each plinth lay a white marble shape—the shape of a small, sleeping child entirely covered by a sheet.

  No, not sleeping.

  “Five?” she said, but then wondered why she’d asked that particular question.

  “There was a daughter, never mentioned.”

  She went toward the nearest one and saw the name engraved on the stone. “Giles Perriam,” with dates. He’d been two months old.

  On the next, “Giles Perriam.”

  And on the next.

  “Was he mad?”

  “This isn’t his work, though the naming probably was. The last boy is Charles because when he was born his older brother still lived, though not for long. The girl was Beatrice. They are all the children of Giles’s first wife, Louisa Forbes, and this is her work.”

  “Poor, poor lady. Are they actually buried here?”

  “No, they lie in the churchyard. I’m told Louisa created this after the last child died, Giles number three. She followed him the next year.”

  “Heartbroken. But I thought there were two more wives.”

  “As soon as it was decent Giles married again. That wife, Amelia Shaw-Cobham, had the good fortune to be barren but the bad fortune to succumb to the smallpox after six years. His third wife conceived but never brought a babe to life. After a series of miscarriages and two stillbirths, she went mad. She took her own life, here among these memorials, just over a year ago.”

  “More things you didn’t tell me.”

  He spread his hands. “I had my own necessities, and none of this affects you.”

  “No? Isn’t the curse supposed to be passed on with the manor?”

  “If you believe in the curse, then believe that our marriage has appeased your aunt. That’s what your mother promised.”

  Claris opened her mouth but closed it, unable to think what to say. Her mother had been obsessed, and she’d have said anything, but Aunt Clarrie and the curse? That had never seemed possible.

  “As there will be no children of our marriage,” he said, “these memorials need not disturb you.”

  She laughed, entirely without humor. “They’re macabre! And remember, one wife died of smallpox.”

  “You could be inoculated.”

  “That’s far too dangerous, and beside the point.”

  “We can debate the danger some other time. I have no belief in that curse, Claris, or I would never have married you or any woman, Perriam obsessions be damned.”

  Struck by his sincerity, she turned back to the sad display and approached the one for Beatrice, who’d survived for three years. Old enough to walk and talk. Had that made her loss even worse?

  “Is Perriam Manor haunted?” she asked.

  “If any place deserves to be, this does, but I’ve heard nothing of it.”

  She touched the marble sheet, irrationally surprised to find it cold. “I want to tear this back to let the poor child breathe.” She curled her fingers at one edge as if it might be possible.

  He pulled her back. “It’s only stone. Solid stone.”

  She turned to him, into his chest, fighting tears. Those poor, poor infants, and their poor mother, whose heart had been shattered five times. She only slowly realized where she was, what she was doing, and pushed away. “I’m sorry.”

  He let her go. “No need to apologize.”

  His arms had been around her, and they had warmed and comforted her in a way she’d never experienced before.

  He touched her shoulder. “We know the boundaries of this marriage, Claris, but they don’t have to deny us comfort, or even friendship.”

  She took another step back. “With you in London and me here? That wouldn’t be practical at all.” She briskly led the way out of the shadow of yews. “Thank you for showing me that. It would have been worse to come across it alone. Something must be done. The boys . . .”

  “Will delight in the horrid.”

  “Oh dear, you’re probably right. There was a tomb in the church in Old Barford that showed a skeleton with worms weaving through it. That was their favorite.”

  “I’m sorry to have missed it. We males are warped in that way. We can continue around the house to the front door. There are no more grim surprises.”

  She followed his lead, seeking something prosaic to speak of. “How big is the estate?”

  “A little over six hundred acres, including the home farm. I should introduce you there tomorrow. A great deal is productive woodland. No one seems to have attempted much with the area close to the house.”

  “At least it’s tidy.”

  “Because I told them to tidy it. I look forward to seeing what you do with it.”

  She paused to look at him. “You expect to return frequently?”

  “No, but there is one other thing I didn’t tell you. By the terms of the very exacting will, I must reside here for thirty days in every calendar year or lose the estate.”

  “Thirty days! You said you’d stay only a day or two.”

  “And spoke the truth. The days need not necessarily be consecutive. A few days a month will do.”

  She managed not to echo the words “a few days a month.”

  “We’re late in September. Does that mean you have to be here for thirty days between now and January?”

  “’Struth, I’d not thought of that. That’s about ten days a month.”

  He spoke as if it were a prison sentence. She felt so torn about everything. She was determined to have this place to herself, but it hurt that he’d happily never return.

  “Can the clause not be contested?” she asked.

  “It might be possible to reduce it in proportion, but the way lawyers and courts work, it wouldn’t be settled before the year was over and their bills could eat a year’s income from the manor. We’ll have to cope as best we can.”

  “If what you say is true.”

  “I will always speak the truth to you.”

  “But not the whole truth.” Her unruly temper was simmering.

  “But not the whole truth.”

  “Only what suits you.”

  “Of course, and you will do the same, I’m sure.”

  “I have nothing to hide!”

  “Don’t you?” he asked.

  Affirming words stuck in her throat. “Nothing that affects you or us.” When he smiled, she said, “Oh, I wish I had a pistol with me!”

  “Temper, temper.”

 
She truly, deeply wanted to hurl something at him, but the memory of firing that pistol was leash enough.

  “It won’t be so bad,” he soothed. “We can avoid each other most of the time. I’ll hide in my bedchamber and work on a book I’ve thought to write.”

  “On how to irritate people?”

  He laughed. “On court etiquette for the provincial gentleman.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “Not at all. So many come to Town for a momentous visit, then bumble around in anxious confusion.”

  “Such a book might be a kindness.”

  “You don’t think me capable of kindness?”

  “Only when it suits you. Enough of this. Now I do want tea, and food as well. I’d have thought the twins were starving. Will it be seen as scandalous if they eat in the dining room?”

  “They’re of an age for it outside of any formal entertainment.”

  “Which I won’t be holding.”

  “Best not to be rigid. You may make friends in the area. If you wish, have your brothers eat with you at all times. You can set up as an eccentric.”

  “I may well do that. It comes in the blood on both sides of my family, and the Perriams aren’t clear of peculiarities.” With that, she led the way across the threshold, going from sunshine into gloom.

  When her eyes adjusted, she saw the footman and asked him if he knew where her brothers were.

  “I believe they’re in the kitchen, ma’am.”

  Perriam said, “If you will permit, I have matters to attend to in my room.”

  Claris permitted, wondering if he were giving her a free hand with the kitchen or he was involved in something more devious.

  She found the twins seated at a long table eating bread and cheese and chattering to an attentive group of servants. She’d never given a thought to what they might say. As well write her business on the walls!

  At sight of her, the servants hurried back to their work with many a wary glance.

  “You’re not to bother the servants here,” she told the twins.

  “We were hungry and couldn’t find you! Mistress Wilcock doesn’t mind.”

  They smiled at a plump, aproned woman who must be the cook, and she beamed at them. “Lovely to have healthy appetites to feed, ma’am.”

  “You’re very kind, but I must apologize for the disorder. It will take a day or two for my family to settle here.” She thought of something. “Have you seen our cat?”

  “The black one, ma’am? He had a bit of an argument with our mouser, Mog, but no blood spilled.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “They seemed to come to an understanding, ma’am.”

  Claris couldn’t think of anything useful to do about the cat world. “Mr. Perriam and I would like a light meal in the dining room as soon as may be.” To the twins, she said, “You may share it if you still have room.”

  Bright eyes implied vast chasms yet to be filled.

  “Something simple will do,” Claris added, hinting, “We too are hungry after a long day.”

  The cook curtsied. “I had that in mind, ma’am, and can have a cold repast on the table in a trice.”

  Claris thanked her for her thoughtfulness and took her brothers away. No point berating them for chatter. Truth will out.

  “So what do you think of our new home?” she asked as they returned to the front hall.

  “It’s splendid!” Peter said.

  “But there aren’t any weapons,” Tom complained.

  “A very good thing too.” There was another problem. There might be weapons somewhere in the house. As Perriam was still here, she’d set him the task of finding and securing them. The twins were generally very well behaved, but it would be folly to take chances.

  “Did you find the stables?” she asked.

  The boys stopped and stared at her, eyes wide. “The ponies are already here!”

  “Castor and Pollux,” Peter said.

  “But we’re not sure whose is whose,” Tom said. “We didn’t try to ride them.”

  “Because we’d promised.”

  “That was very noble of you,” Claris said, loving them for it. “I look forward to meeting the ponies, and I promise that tomorrow Mr. Perriam will arrange matters for you. Whose is whose, and any lessons you need.”

  She realized she was granting him some authority, but as with the weapons, he was the best person for the task. What was more, he’d kept his promise about the ponies, and more generously than she’d expected. It couldn’t have been easy to buy them in such a short, busy period, and he’d named them after a famous pair of twins.

  She would not sink to surliness, so she admitted to herself that he’d been correct about the benefit of him staying for a day or two. Only for a day or two, however. If he showed any inclination to linger . . .

  He wouldn’t of course. He itched to return to his beloved Town.

  She took her brothers up to see their room. It satisfied them, but it couldn’t begin to compete with ponies in their starry minds.

  “Castor has a white blaze,” Peter said.

  “And Pollux has white socks,” Tom said. “We’ll need riding crops.”

  “If we can afford them,” Peter said.

  It was so delightful to be able to say, “Of course we can, darlings. And perhaps leather breeches.”

  In unison they said, “Really?”

  “And books for your studies,” she reminded them. “You’ll have a new tutor soon.” Something else to discuss with Perriam. “Don’t forget you’ll be going away to school soon.”

  They’d always looked forward to school, but now they frowned.

  “Will we be able to take the ponies?” Tom asked.

  “That seems unlikely, but you’ll be able to return here for holidays, because your school isn’t far away.” When they both scowled, she used the old saying. “Count your blessings. And don’t go in search of troubles, for they’ll come quickly enough to find you. Now, I see your boxes are here, so you’d best unpack them before the meal.”

  Another question arose.

  Perriam had said they were now the young masters of the house. Should they have a servant to take care of their clothing, bring up their water, and such? Probably they should, but what they’d make of it she couldn’t imagine.

  She suddenly wanted to grip her head for fear it would spin off her neck.

  “Are you all right, Claris?” Tom asked.

  She smiled for them. “Of course, but this has been a momentous day, with many changes. There’s much to do to make this our home, and I confess I don’t know quite how to do some of it.”

  “Mr. Perriam will know,” Peter said.

  “We like him,” Tom said.

  “That’s excellent, but he must soon leave here because he has great responsibilities in London.”

  “You’ll be going with him?” Peter asked, alarmed.

  “Heavens, no.”

  “But you’re his wife.”

  “And would dislike London enormously, so he is kind enough to leave me in the country. Besides, I’d never abandon you. Unpack quickly and then come down. The meal will be ready soon.”

  Claris left them and went to her bedchamber to wash with cold water and try to ease away tension. She’d won what she’d wanted—a comfortable home and a promising future for her brothers. Her head was spinning only from so many new ways and uncertainty. But Peter was right; Mr. Perriam would know.

  She dried her hands, braced herself, and then knocked on the adjoining door.

  He opened it, coatless, hair loose of its ribbon, an unfolded letter in his hand.

  The moment seemed shockingly intimate.

  “I . . . I’ve interrupted you. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled. “In the case of some correspondence, interruptions are welcome. I may help you?”

  Practical matters flew out of Claris’s head. “Only to say that food will be in the dining room shortly.”

  “A very welcome interruption. I’ll join y
ou there momentarily.”

  He turned away and Claris closed the door, needing to steady herself on it with one hand.

  She’d seen men without coats before!

  And with unconfined hair.

  But never a gentleman, and it had made him seem completely unconfined in all kinds of ways.

  His hair waved in a way she envied, and a bit of sun glinting through the ivy had caught those hints of flame and copper there—as on that first day. It seemed so long since she’d studied an invader through the open kitchen window, knowing he brought trouble to her haven of content.

  She pushed off from the door. Lavender Cottage had been a haven of the meanest sort, and the invader had made this improvement possible. She was grateful and would show it, but she couldn’t afford to find him attractive. That way lay weakness, which he would exploit in a trice.

  Athena and Ellie. She’d forgotten them.

  She went down the corridor and knocked.

  Ellie opened the door wide, just as she’d always opened the door to Lavender Cottage, welcoming all. “Come in, dearie. All in order?”

  “As much as could be expected.”

  The room was as handsome as her own, though still in an old-fashioned style, with white walls and dark wood. Athena was at home in it. She was seated in a comfortable chair, her feet raised on a padded stool, spectacles on her nose, reading a book. Yatta was curled nearby, as if he’d never contested anything here.

  Ellie, in her handsome gray, settled in another chair and picked up some needlework. Not simple mending, but embroidery.

  A new and different world.

  She’d always known that her father and grandmother came from the gentry and that Athena might be nobly born, but she’d never felt that noble connection until today. Athena had volunteered little about her life, and Claris hadn’t been sure she wanted to know, but perhaps it was time. For now, she had advisers.

  “I’ve ordered a hasty meal in the dining room if you’re hungry.”

  “We grew tired of waiting,” Athena said, “and had a meal brought here.”

  Completely at home.

  Unreasonable to resent that.

  “Perriam was showing me around the house and grounds. There’s an adequate herb garden.”

  Athena looked up over her spectacles. “I am not devoted to herbs, Claris. My knowledge merely proved useful for a while. I have yet to decide what I will do here.”