by Jo Beverley
Chapter 22
As they went inside, Claris was reluctant to slip her hand from his, but she did it.
“My shoes are muddy,” she said as an excuse. “I must take them off here.” She didn’t quite dare to order him to take off his boots, but she looked at them. When he continued toward the stairs, she said, “What purpose in tramping mud all over the place?”
He seemed startled by the notion, but he sat on the lower stairs. “What purpose indeed?”
He began to pull off his boots, but the footman hurried over to assist him.
Claris hadn’t noticed the servant, and now she blushed at her tart question.
“Shall I take the boots to the scullery, sir?”
“And my wife’s shoes,” Perriam said, standing. “We require washing water in our rooms. Come, my dear.”
Claris put down her shoes and joined him to go up to their rooms. “I’m sorry. I was rude.”
“But to the point. Of course, we’d normally have entered by the back, where leaving our footwear would be more natural.”
“My fault.”
“There’s no fault in any of this, Claris.”
He said it gently, but as if there was greater meaning. What else had she done that might be faulted?
He opened the door to her room and for some reason her heart began to pitter-patter, as if he might enter with her. He merely guided her inside with another light touch on her back—merely!—and left.
Claris closed the door and leaned against it, trying to shake nonsense out of her head. It had to arise from the magic of the evening light.
Would she really have let him enter with her?
Why not? asked reason.
Because it would cross the boundaries they’d established. It would imply something.
Had he wanted to come in?
She pushed away to go to the window, to look out at the darkening sky. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing down. The memorial enclave was deeply shadowed and yet some trace of light touched the five marbles, making them even more ghostly.
Alice came in with warm water and Claris turned, smiling, probably too brightly.
“My shoes need a good clean. I’ve been visiting the home farm.”
Alice poured hot water into the basin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“The estate is very interesting.”
Alice uncovered the pot of soap, then took the towel and stood ready. “Yes, ma’am. Do you want the candles lit, ma’am?”
Claris realized that she’d been conversing with a servant, which probably wasn’t appropriate. Certainly Alice showed no sign of interest in her day, and why should she?
“Yes, please.”
A companion would have to at least feign interest. It seemed such a dismal relationship, however, with one side obliged to be pleasing, no matter how she felt. Ellie wasn’t like that, but Claris wasn’t sure what Ellie was, and Athena was certainly no conventional lady.
As Claris washed her face, she remembered that Alice was only on loan from Cheynings. She too might want to leave.
“Do you think you’ll want to stay here, Alice, or will you prefer to return to Cheynings?”
“I’ll stay as long as you need me, ma’am, but my family’s there, you see.”
“It’s your home. I understand.” Claris dried her face and hands. “I’ll find a new lady’s maid as soon as possible. Are there any maids here who would be suitable?”
“I don’t think so, ma’am. None have any experience in such work. The last Mistress Perriam had no need of a lady’s maid for many years, or so I’m told.”
Because she’d been mad.
“I don’t mind staying here for a while, ma’am. It’s interesting to see a new place.”
“Do you find the other servants friendly?”
The maid’s eyes shifted. “They’re a bit somber, ma’am.”
Claris realized that she too had that impression. “More so than at Cheynings?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. We had merry times there.”
“This house has known a lot of sadness. It will take time for change, but I hope daylight will begin the repair.”
“Likely it will, ma’am,” Alice said, but she didn’t sound hopeful.
She poured the used water into the slop bucket and took it away. Claris sat on the chaise longue, fighting the dismals again. She wanted this to be a happy house, but was she going to have to dismiss the servants and hire new to have a fresh start?
No, it would simply take time.
Time. Her idle gaze was resting on the clock on the mantelpiece. It wasn’t as fascinating as the clear one at Cheynings, but it was still pretty, with gilt ornamentation and flowers painted on the face. She contrasted it with the simple clock in the cottage. She hadn’t unpacked the boxes from Lavender Cottage and had no urge to do so. Athena had been correct, and most of the contents would be discarded, but even unpacking them would prove the poverty of her former life.
She certainly didn’t want anything of her mother’s in her new life. She hadn’t liked her mother and hadn’t been able to love her, perhaps because her mother hadn’t loved her. It was as if her adoration of her younger sister and her need for revenge had used up all her emotions.
She hadn’t mourned her mother. She’d been too absorbed by her baby brothers. Even so young, she’d known they were hers to protect.
A thought tickled at the back of her mind.
Ah. For the first time she wondered how they’d come to be. The normal way, people would say, but after her own arrival there’d been no more children. In theory her parents had shared a bed, but her father had often, perhaps always, slept on a daybed in his study. She wasn’t precisely sure what was required to make children, but it happened in the marital bed. Whatever the process was, her parents must have done it in order to conceive the twins.
Why, after so long?
She glanced at the adjoining door and realized why this subject had suddenly occurred to her, and where her mind was wandering. . . .
After only the briefest knock, the twins burst in. “Supper’s served, Claris!”
She held up both hands. “Stop. You knock and then wait. What if I’d been washing?”
They both looked doubtful. Did they not think she washed?
But they both apologized.
She felt guilty for chastising them, for their arrival and chatter had cleared her mind as effectively as stripping the ivy had cleared the windows. What folly she’d been contemplating.
“Apology accepted,” she said, rising. “Now we can go down.”
“Did you enjoy your ride?” Peter asked.
In so many ways. “It was terrifying at first.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“And soon you’ll be riding alone,” Tom said.
“No, I won’t. My legs turn limp at the thought. I’m sorry if that gives you a disgust of me, but there it is.”
“Never a disgust, Claris,” Peter said, but clearly she was now a subject of eternal pity.
“I wonder what’s for supper,” she said, which distracted them. To them, meals were now a cornucopia of wonders.
Claris was nervous about facing Perriam again, but the moment passed easily and the meal went well. Everyone had something to say about their day. Ellie and Athena had conducted a thorough review of the library in search of interesting books.
Athena gave her judgment. “You should throw out most and restock.”
“That will have to wait,” Claris said. “There are more important improvements.”
When Athena sniffed, Claris suspected she’d been hoping for new books to her taste. If she wanted them, she could buy them herself.
When they went to the drawing room, Perriam suggested the boys come with them. Once there, he produced a pack of cards.
Both boys stared.
“Cards are the devil’s work,” Tom said, looking as if he feared flames would spurt.
“They’re merely pieces of card,” Perriam s
aid, riffling them. “We make them what we will.”
“Perhaps I object,” Claris said to remind him who was in charge here.
“I propose a very undevilish game,” he said. “Casino.”
Athena sniffed and retreated to a chair with a book, but Ellie said, “Oh, I enjoy casino,” undermining Claris’s objection.
“It’s a harmless game,” Perriam said to her, “and your brothers should learn to play.”
Despite misgivings, Claris gave in and took part. Once she understood the rules, she enjoyed it. Ellie was skilled at it, making clever matches and pointing out good ones to the twins. Claris suspected that Perriam was underplaying so as to let the boys win.
After a while he gathered the cards in and shuffled them. He gave them to Peter. “You try.”
The result was cards all over the floor. Both twins worked at learning how to shuffle a deck of cards. Claris watched, sufficiently influenced by her father’s rants to still feel as if the devil hovered in the room.
She hadn’t noticed Perriam leave the table, but he returned with a wooden box prettily inlaid with ivory. When he opened it she saw small wooden disks marked with numbers.
“Counters. We can play brag.”
It took a moment for Claris to understand. “A gambling game? That is the devil’s work!”
The dark room, lit only by two stands of candles, took on the ambience of hell.
He ignored her and spilled the counters onto the table. “Better they learn here than in a corner at school.” He pushed the counters toward the boys. “Share those evenly between us. I can’t tempt you to brag, Mistress Mallow?”
Athena gave him a look. “If you progress to something interesting such as quadrille or basset, perhaps.”
“Like playing deep, do you?”
Athena did not reply, but Ellie said, “She does. And she generally wins.”
“I’m sure she does, but there’s no need to teach the lads beau monde games yet, especially as our monarch disapproves of gambling.”
“Which is to his credit,” Claris said, still very uneasy.
“I so easily forget that you’re a clergyman’s daughter.”
He made it sound a deplorable state, and she glared at him.
Secretly she disliked feeling her father’s disapproval like a weight on her shoulders, but there it was. She truly did think gaming evil. Hadn’t Perriam disapproved of one of his brothers for play? She should forbid this, or at least leave the table, but she noted what Perriam had said. Better the boys learn here than at school. She was going to have to send them into the world and she didn’t want them in danger through ignorance.
She accepted her counters and arranged them by amount. “If these were guineas, I’d be rich.”
“By most people’s reckoning, you are rich,” Perriam said.
She looked at him in surprise. “I suppose I am.”
“Everyone ready?” he asked.
The twins were bright eyed and eager, and she could almost feel her father’s fearsome breath on her neck. No. She’d not allowed him to ruin everything in life, so she certainly wouldn’t let him do it from the grave.
“You’ll be dealt three cards,” Perriam said. “To win, you need the best combination. We’ll play the simplest version tonight, only counting pairs and threes. So the very best combination is three aces, then three kings and so on. Easy enough, yes?”
The twins nodded, following with more rapt attention than they’d ever paid to worthy lessons.
“In addition we have the braggers—the ace of clubs, the knave of spades, and the nine of diamonds. These can substitute for any card, so if you have two tens and the nine of diamonds, you can claim three tens. Yes?”
They nodded.
“If you have two braggers, you can claim a three of the other card, so the king of spades along with the nine of diamonds and the ace of clubs is three kings. However, if someone else has the three other kings, they win.”
“We understand,” Peter said, speaking for them both as he often did. “Can we try now?”
“Don’t you want to know how to lay a bet?”
“Can’t we play without betting?” Claris asked.
“That would make the game pointless.”
“There’s no harm to it, dearie,” Ellie said. “Or at least, not if they’re sensible. And if they’re not, it’s best they understand the risks.”
“If you truly object . . . ,” Perriam said, but he’d already hooked her brothers and knew it.
“Continue,” she said, but with a look that should have shriveled his soul.
It had no obvious effect. “I’ll deal three cards to each, but first I’ll lay down a stake.” He looked at the twins. “Always limit the stake, or you can be tempted into losing far more than you can afford. You understand?”
They both nodded.
“Do you agree to a limit of two counters?”
The twins looked at each other as if debating it; then both nodded.
“Two counters it is.” Perriam picked one up. “These have numbers on them, but we’ll count each as one. One penny? One shilling? One guinea?”
“Guinea!” the twins said in unison.
“But then how would you pay?”
“With the counters,” Tom said.
“But they must represent real money, or where’s the point? How much can you afford to lose?”
Both twins slumped. “Nothing,” Peter said. “We have no money.”
Claris saw Perriam about to give them some and spoke first. “I should be providing a small allowance for you, shouldn’t I? We’ll discuss what it should be, but for now, I promise you two shillings each to celebrate our wedding, yours to game with or not, as you wish.”
She hoped they’d retreat from risking real money, and she saw their hesitation, but then Peter looked at his counters. “We each have twenty. If they’re worth a penny, that’s one shilling and eight pence.” Again he hesitated, glancing at Tom. Tom nodded. “We’ll play for pennies and stop if we lose a shilling.”
A shilling would seem like riches to them, but they were willing to risk it. That worried Claris, but she adored them for their careful consideration and caution. She also understood Perriam’s purpose. He was going to teach them about real consequences.
She hoped they lost.
Perriam put a counter in the center of the table. “I bet one penny. Now I deal three cards to each of you and you decide whether to match my stake or not. If not, you’re out of the game at no loss.”
“We have to decide our chances of winning?” Peter said. “How can we know?”
“Unless you’re holding three aces, you can’t. You can estimate the probabilities, but that takes practice. For now, you guess. You should also watch your opponents, for some show their hand in their expression.”
“But some put on expressions in order to deceive,” Ellie warned.
“They do indeed.” Perriam deftly dealt three cards to each of them.
Claris picked hers up, acknowledging the tingle of excitement when she found two fives. Only fives, but two of them. What was the probability of getting a pair? Surely it couldn’t be high.
“Fan them like this,” Perriam said, and she imitated him. “It doesn’t matter in handling three cards, but with more it’s essential.”
“I’m not likely to make a habit of card playing, sir.”
“As your husband, I approve.” He turned to Ellie on his left. “Miss Gable, do you wish to match my stake, or even raise it?” To the boys he said, “Raising the stake is a means to frighten off other players and can sometimes have a weak hand win.”
Ellie said, “I’ll merely match your stake, sir,” and put a counter in the middle.
The twins each did the same. Claris considered her fives and put in two counters.
“Aha! Does she have a strong hand, or is she bluffing? Now we’ll have to add two pennies to stay in the game.” He matched her two pennies.
Ellie put down her hand. �
�I retire.”
The twins looked at each other and at the counters in the middle. There was eight pence there now, a very tempting sum.
It was Peter’s turn next and he looked at Perriam. “I don’t like competing with my brother. Can we play together?”
“No.”
Peter frowned, but he added two counters.
Frowning just as much, Tom put down his hand and copied Ellie. “I retire.”
That left only Claris, Perriam, and Peter.
“What now?” she asked.
“We continue until only two remain.”
Claris didn’t want to compete with her brother, so she put down her cards. “I retire.”
“But you raised the stake,” Peter protested. “You can’t give up so easily.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing.” Perriam raised a brow at her, however, and she saw the message. This should be real. “Oh, very well.” She picked up her cards and put two more counters in the middle.
Perriam put down his cards. “I retire.”
“Do we get to see what you held?” Claris challenged.
“No. Now you and Peter can continue to bet until one of you runs out of money or loses your nerve, or one of you can put in double to see the other’s cards. Then the best hand wins. Peter?”
Watching her, Peter put in two more pennies. The clever lad knew she’d pay the double to put an end to this.
She did. “Show me your cards.”
When he put down the ten of hearts, the nine of diamonds, and the ace of clubs, she didn’t know whether to be delighted that he’d won or terrified that he’d get a taste for this.
She showed him her pair of fives. “You win.”
He whooped and gathered in the money, but then he happily shared his winnings with his brother.
“Can we play again?” Tom asked, arranging his wealth in lines of five.
Claris agreed, praying that the play go against the boys and teach them a lesson. It did. They continued to play, and luck wandered evenly around. Claris suspected that Perriam and Ellie sometimes retired good hands, for she certainly did, but the twins lost as often as they won.
When she finally called a halt, they were down threepence from their original twenty. She thought that about right for a lesson but could only hope they hadn’t been infected with a mad taste for gambling.