by Cheryl Holt
“I will.”
Clarissa forced a smile, trying to hide her dismay. Obviously Roland hadn’t notified anyone about the change of ownership. She felt she should clarify the situation, but was it her story to tell? Then again, Roland was leaving shortly, and once Captain Harlow assumed control of the estate, rumors would spread.
Wasn’t it best to have the truth disseminated rather than innuendo and speculation? Plus, shouldn’t Lady Run be apprised that it was Captain Harlow who was in residence? She didn’t appear cognizant of his status, and he would definitely cause a stir when his identity was revealed.
“Actually,” Clarissa hesitantly started, “I should probably explain a few things.”
“What is it?”
“Ah…oh, this is so difficult.”
“Just say it,” Lady Run urged. “I’m certain I can bear up.”
“Greystone isn’t owned by my cousins anymore. It was forfeit to the Crown to pay off the victims Harold Merrick swindled.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” Lady Run murmured.
“No one knows, but I expect it will be common knowledge before too long.”
“I agree. It’s not the type of information that can be kept quiet. Is there no chance for your cousin, Roland, to retain the property?”
“No, he fought it in the courts, but his appeals were denied.”
“What will happen to all of you?”
“That’s the main part I need to share, so it’s not floating around as rank gossip. The Mr. Harlow you met? Was he dark-haired or blond?”
“Dark-haired.”
“He’s not Mr. Harlow. He’s Captain Harlow. Are you aware of who that is?”
Lady Run straightened. “Captain Harlow? As in the hero at the sinking of the Royal Tempest?”
“Yes, that’s the one. He was given Greystone as a reward for his valor.”
“He’s the new owner?”
“Yes. Roland is departing very soon.”
“I had no idea.”
“No one did. When Captain Harlow trotted up the drive, it was a huge shock. I can’t understand why he didn’t boast to you about who he was. He’s quite a vain fellow.”
“That rat!” Lady Run huffed. “He didn’t say a word.”
“You’ll have a renowned celebrity at your party.”
“The neighbors will be delighted.” Lady Run pondered for a moment, then frowned. “Isn’t Captain Harlow’s Christian name Matthew?”
“Yes.”
“He told me it was Rafe.”
“Rafe Harlow is his younger brother. You must have spoken with him when they initially arrived. They played a jest on us by switching their coats, so we didn’t realize which of them was the Captain.”
“Matthew Harlow,” Lady Run said. “You’re sure that’s his first name?”
“Yes. Captain Matthew Harlow.”
“Is he here?”
“No, he’s out for the afternoon.”
Lady Run stared at Clarissa, and Clarissa could practically see Lady Run’s mind whirring with questions she didn’t voice, as if she was trying to work out a difficult mathematical equation.
“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward,” Lady Run said, “but has he revealed any of his history?”
“I’ve learned some of it.”
“Could he have been orphaned as a child or maybe raised in an orphanage?”
Clarissa didn’t think his past was a secret. “Yes, he was orphaned. There was a tragedy when he was a little boy that killed his parents, and he was reared by Mr. and Mrs. Harlow.”
Lady Run gasped. “What was the tragedy?”
“A fire.”
Lady Run blinked, then blinked again. “By any chance, was it at a coaching inn?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Oh, my Lord…” Lady Run jumped to her feet, appearing excited and unnerved. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to…ah…write to someone about this.”
“About Captain Harlow?”
“Yes. And would you give him a message for me?”
“Of course.”
“Tell him I must speak with him right away. He must call on me at Fox Run at his earliest convenience.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll tell him.”
“Please make it clear that if he doesn’t visit me at once, I’ll keep pestering him until all of you are sick of me.”
“I doubt we’d grow tired of you.” Clarissa stood too, feeling bewildered by Lady Run’s abrupt departure. “Might I ask if there’s a…a…problem with Captain Harlow?”
From how Lady Run was about to race out, Clarissa was greatly unsettled, worried that Lady Run might have learned horrid, undisclosed facts about him. Clarissa was plenty anxious about the man. She didn’t need bad news on top of everything else.
“No, no,” Lady Run said, “there’s no problem. I simply might know someone from his past. Tell him that for me, would you? Tell him someone is looking for him.”
Clarissa remembered him saying that, after the fire, no one had searched for him, and Clarissa deemed it the worst ending imaginable. What if he had a whole family out there somewhere?
“I’ll send him over the minute he’s back,” she said.
“Thank you, and you’ll come to our party, yes?”
“Yes, I will.”
“I believe we’re about the same age. I hope we’ll become friends.”
“I hope so too.”
Lady Run hurried out, and Clarissa was left alone in the quiet.
She was desperate to talk to someone, to apprise Roland and Angela their social ostracism might be over, to order Captain Harlow to skedaddle to Fox Run, to inform someone—anyone—that Lady Run wanted to be Clarissa’s friend. It had been so long since Clarissa had made a friend; she was thrilled and flattered and very, very happy.
Finally the Captain rode up the lane, and she dawdled, watching as he passed by on his way to the stables. He had several boxes tied to his saddle, as if he’d been shopping, which she deemed to be odd. He was so magnificent and extraordinary. She couldn’t envision him engaged in the common behavior of haggling with a merchant.
It took forever for him to come inside, and he entered through a rear door. She dashed down the hall, eager to stop him before he vanished up to his room. His arms were loaded down with his packages, and she hastened over to help him.
He grinned. “Hello, Miss Merrick.”
“Captain.”
He looked very grand, his hair windswept, his cheeks rosy from the fresh air.
“Did you see Lady Run out on the road?” she asked.
“No.”
“She visited.”
“That was kind of her.”
“She and her husband are throwing their annual party at Fox Run. She invited us.”
“Good.”
“Don’t be upset, but I confessed your true identity. With you being so acclaimed, I didn’t want her to be surprised.”
He rolled his eyes. “Was she duly impressed?”
“Yes, you vain oaf. She was extremely impressed. She insisted you come to Fox Run immediately.”
“Why?”
“She might know someone from your past, and she’s anxious to discuss it with you.”
His grin faded. “Why would she think that?”
“You introduced yourself to her as Rafe Harlow.”
“I did.”
“But when she realized your Christian name is actually Matthew, she was electrified. It was very strange.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Clarissa had been on pins and needles, impatient to share the news, but he didn’t seem interested in the slightest.
“What if you’re wrong?” she said. “What if you have an entire family that’s dying to meet you?”
He scoffed. “If I have a huge family, where have they been all these years? It certainly took them long enough to search for me.”
Clarissa yearned to have a large, extended family filled with cousins and s
iblings, aunties and uncles. She’d love to celebrate birthdays and weddings and anniversaries. Why couldn’t he understand how marvelous it would be?
“It might be your relatives! Why aren’t you more excited?”
“Pardon me if I’m skeptical, but it’s widely known that I’m rich and—as you described me—acclaimed. I’m suspicious about anyone who announces a sudden connection.”
“You can’t guess what happened when you were a boy. Maybe they searched, but simply didn’t find you for some reason.”
“Wouldn’t it be pretty to think so?”
“Will you ride over to Fox Run and speak with her? I told her you would.”
“I’m busy just now.”
“Please?”
He dropped the boxes and pulled her close. She might have tried to scoot away, but it was pointless to fight him. He’d release her when he was good and ready.
“When you gaze at me like that,” he said, “you make it hard to refuse.”
“You’ll go to Fox Run?”
“Yes, Clarissa, I’ll go, but must it be this very minute?”
“I suppose you could wash and change your coat.”
“Thank you, my dearest fiancée.”
“I’m not your fiancée,” she protested.
He looked astonished, as if he’d only just heard that she hadn’t agreed. “You’re not? I could have sworn we’re marrying Thursday morning.”
“You haven’t even asked me to marry you.”
“Oh, I forgot. You feel I ordered you.”
“You did order me.”
“How about this. Will you marry me, Clarissa? Is that better?”
“No.”
He laughed. “No, it’s not better? Or no, you won’t marry me?”
“No, I won’t marry you, and no, it wasn’t better. You could at least pretend you’re glad to have me. That way, you might coax the correct reply out of me.”
“Why do you keep saying I’m not glad to have you? I keep telling you I am. Why don’t you believe me?”
“I don’t trust you, and I can’t imagine why you’d select me over every other girl in the world.”
“You have a terrible problem with self-esteem, don’t you? After we’re wed, we’ll work on it.” He bent down to retrieve the largest box. He held it out. “This is for you. Actually all of these things are for you.”
She scowled, almost afraid to accept it. “What is it?”
“It’s a gown for the wedding. I had it shipped from London.”
Like a dunce, she repeated, “A gown for the wedding?”
“Yes, I wasn’t about to let you wear one of your old grey rags, and it’s blue, so it will enhance the color of your eyes.”
“Captain…”
She wanted to scold him, wanted to weep. It was such a sweet gesture. Why did he surprise her like this? It made her like him. It left her confused and perplexed.
“You didn’t arrange our wedding breakfast,” he said, “so I took the liberty of having the housekeeper prepare the event for you. We’ll have the ceremony at the church in the village. She thought you’d like to have it there rather than the parlor.”
“Yes…I…would like it there.” Was she agreeing? Had he finally persuaded her?
“Now then, I’m very busy today. Leave these packages, and I’ll send a footman to carry them up to your bedchamber.”
“I can carry them.”
“I said I’ll send someone.”
“All right, all right.”
“I’ll see you at supper.”
He kissed her on the cheek and walked off, quickly disappearing around the corner.
She sank to the floor and opened the biggest box to discover a lovely blue gown. It was her favorite shade, with a scooped neckline, high waist, and flowing skirt. It was beautiful, quietly understated, the perfect garment, the one she would have chosen herself had she been allowed to pick.
She grabbed the other boxes and found accessories: a fan and gloves and a cloak and a bonnet. She sat on the floor, surrounded by the pile of precious gifts and started to cry.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Roland marched down the hall in the deserted wing of the house where Clarissa’s bedchamber was located. He wasn’t sure which suite was hers, and he’d brought Angela along to show him.
When Clarissa had been little, she’d lived with the rest of the family, but the moment she’d been mature enough to assert her independence, she’d moved farther away. He’d never pondered her decision, but now he was wondering if she didn’t like them anymore than they liked her. Could it be possible?
He had such a high opinion of himself that it was shocking to suppose Clarissa might not like him. The notion had never previously occurred to him, and it bothered him enormously.
“It’s this one,” Angela said, pulling him to a stop in front of one of the many doors that were all the same.
Roland studied the empty hall, curious as to what it would be like to be so alone, to keep herself apart as Clarissa had. Was her apartment a haven or a prison? Her choice made her seem more interesting than he’d ever deemed her to be, as if she had secrets he ought to unravel.
He knocked briskly, and inside, she called, “Yes, who is it?”
Roland leaned to Angela and hissed, “You tell her exactly what I told you to say.”
“Bastard,” Angela mumbled.
“If you don’t, I’ll take a strap to you after we’re through.”
“Yes, yes,” Angela said, “I heard you every time you threatened me.”
“Be certain you don’t forget it.”
Roland reached for the knob and, without announcing himself, he flung the door open and stepped into Clarissa’s sitting room. Angela didn’t budge, and he dragged her in after him.
“Roland, Angela.” Clarissa’s displeasure was obvious. “This is a surprise.”
“He made me come,” Angela snottily griped.
“I’m sure he did.”
There was a sofa by the fire, and Clarissa gestured to it. “Will you sit?”
“No,” Roland said. “We won’t be here that long.”
Clarissa sighed. “You seem upset. What’s wrong?”
“I just spoke to Captain Harlow.”
“How nice,” she snidely retorted.
“It’s Wednesday, and tomorrow is Thursday, yet he advises me that you haven’t accepted his proposal.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Why not?”
Clarissa shrugged. “I can’t decide what to do.”
Her reply left Roland so angry he felt as if he was suffocating. “You can’t decide? What is there to think about?”
“Everyone is insisting I wed him. You. Edwina. Captain Harlow. What if I don’t want to?”
“You stupid girl. It’s the chance of a lifetime!”
“He doesn’t love me,” she baldly stated. “He doesn’t care about me.”
If Roland had had fond feelings for her—which he didn’t—he might have commiserated. She looked so miserably unhappy. Clearly she could have used a mother or a friend and a shoulder to cry on, but unfortunately, there wasn’t a mother or friend in sight.
“Clarissa, when does a woman ever marry for love?”
“Some women do.”
“Well, you’re not one of them. You don’t have that luxury.”
“No, I suppose I don’t,” she murmured.
He pointed to his sister. “Angela has something she’d like to say to you.”
“What is it?” Clarissa asked.
Angela was mulishly silent, and he jabbed her with his elbow. “Tell her.”
“I want you to marry Captain Harlow.” Angela coughed out the words as if they’d been torn from her liver.
Clarissa scoffed. “You want me to?”
“Yes.” Angela glared at Clarissa with such hatred that Roland yearned to slap her.
“Angela,” he snapped, “you’re not helping.”
“It’s not fair!” she fumed as s
he had a thousand times already.
“No, it’s not,” Roland agreed, “but you have to get over it. The Captain picked Clarissa and not you, and he’s not about to change his mind. Now explain to Clarissa why she should go through with it.”
Angela dithered then said, “I’m anxious to remain at Greystone, Clarissa. As the Captain’s wife, you’ll be mistress here, and you’ll run the household. I’d like to stay in my home, and I’m begging you to wed Captain Harlow so you can let me.”
“Why would you want to?” Clarissa inquired. “Nothing will be the same. I’ll be in charge rather than you, and I know you’ll never come to terms with it.”
“I wouldn’t have to be in the Abbey,” Angela told her. “Once Roland departs, I could move to the gamekeeper’s cottage. Or maybe the Captain would open the Dower House for me.”
“I could probably convince him,” Clarissa tentatively said.
“If you don’t wed him”—were those tears in Angela’s eyes?—“I’ll have to leave Greystone. Where will I go, Clarissa? Will you force me to a squalid apartment in London? Is that what you wish?”
“No! I’ve never wished for any of this to occur.”
“And what about you?” Angela asked. “You’ll have to leave too. Roland and I can’t aid you any longer. Will you camp in the ditch? Will you stagger over to the poorhouse and beg them to take you in?”
Clarissa had tears in her eyes too. “How did it come to this?”
Roland wasn’t about to have the encounter collapse into a female sobbing session.
“It’s very simple, Clarissa,” he said. “You can fix many problems by marrying him.”
“You don’t think I realize that?”
“How many years have you resided with us? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
“Fifteen in September.”
“We’ve supported and sheltered you. We’ve fed and clothed you.”
“I’ve always been grateful.”
“In all that time,” Roland continued, “have we ever asked you for anything in return?”
“No, nothing.”
“Have I ever asked you for anything?”
“No.”
“I’m asking now, Clarissa. Do this for my sister. Please! I don’t care what happens to me. I’ll find a way to carry on in town. But please—please!—don’t let him throw Angela out on the road.”
“He wouldn’t,” Clarissa loyally, ridiculously stated.