“I believe he is meeting with his father, Lord Yarmouth, in the library.”
Kendra waited no longer. It should not be that difficult to locate. It wasn’t. An exceptionally well-dressed gentleman who introduced himself as Joseph’s cousin, Seth, politely pointed her in the general direction. Kendra, poised, pushed the door ajar—and stopped cold, Joseph’s words piercing her heart.
****
“I find it odd her father did not address a letter to her personally. But no matter, at least we have heard from him.”
Joseph wasn’t listening. “Mon Dieu, if she were to read this note, and from her own father. Why, we might ne’er fill the nursery.” After reading the first two lines, he winced. “Or consummate our marriage,” he muttered under his breath. He raised his eyes from the letter and scowled at his father who sat in a wing-backed chair covered with a heavy blanket.
“What does it say? And, pray speak English. You know how I detest French.”
Joseph grinned and went back to the letter, starting from the top.
“My dear Lord Joseph, Thanks be to God. I despaired of seeing either one of you ever again. I suppose you’ve more than earned your fee. Doubly so, since you’ve bound yourself to her personally. I wish to see for myself that my daughter is well and truly cared for. Dowry and contracts in hand, I shall leave for Yorkshire at once.
I suppose by now you’ve discovered just how special my dear Kendra is. For that, I must thank you in overlooking her slight inability to read…”
Startled, Joseph glanced over at his father.
“What! You married an imbecile?” Yarmouth frowned. “Well, no matter. Fertility does not require acuity. But the offspring—”
“Enough,” Joseph growled. Kendra couldn’t read? What nonsense was this? After his initial confusion, small pieces began falling slowly into place. Charles Thomas’s attention aboard ship, her sensitivity to being labeled anything near “simple” or, God forbid, an imbécile. The crumpled note in her hand when fever overcame her, the note she’d asked him to read.
And what of the scars on her hands? Bile rose in his throat as he considered the logical implications, the words she’d screamed out in a feverish delirium. An over-zealous governess…
Joseph dropped into the chair behind his desk, and continued the letter in silence.
The child is otherwise quite brilliant in her own right. Her fingers glide over the keys of the pianoforte like Mozart. Her artistic sense and infallible memory will serve you well, if you allow it. I would stake her understanding in matters of agriculture against some of the greatest minds of our time. Take care of my daughter, Yarmouth, or rest assured you shall answer to me.
He needed to speak to Kendra.
“Cousin.” Seth sauntered through the door, adorned in a tailcoat of silk-and-cotton plain-weave. The satin stripes layered over two silk vests were surprisingly subdued, in a color close to tree bark rather than his usual cherry red or apple green. He also wore a knowing smile Joseph had learned never to trust.
Joseph bit back a groan. “Seth. Somehow I am not surprised to find you in residence.”
Seth grinned, a menacing sight that set Joseph’s teeth on edge. “What kind of greeting is that for your favorite cousin?” he said. “Good afternoon, Uncle Gareth.”
“Nephew,” Yarmouth grunted.
Joseph couldn’t leave him alone with his father. Joseph’s hackles rose. The thoughts were so ludicrous he could hardly put words to them. Had Seth wittingly assisted Uncle Rupert to his broken neck? And what of Uncle Simon, Seth’s own father? Joseph sank back into his chair, contemplating his only cousin. Sallow skin and black circles beneath beady black eyes showed his weakness for too much drink and late nights. And though Joseph had a couple of years on him, Seth’s middle already displayed a rounded pudginess.
After fifteen minutes, unable to stand the company of his cousin any longer, Joseph stood. “Excusez-moi, s’il vous plaît. An urgent matter requiring my attention has just come to light.”
“You’ve been missed, cousin.” Seth’s smile resembled a sneer. “How is your mother’s family? I trust your visit to France went well?” Insincerity clogged the atmosphere like a cloud of cigar smoke.
“Wonderful.” How long before he could escape? “How long do you plan to visit, Seth? Yorkshire doesn’t seem to suit many of your current pastimes.”
“True,” Seth agreed. “But I worry for Uncle Gareth. His health is a concern.”
“Oui, that it is. Papa, perhaps you should lie down for a bit before the evening supper.”
“Yes, yes. I think I will.” Joseph escorted his father to his chambers.
He searched out the butler. “Holmes.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Do not leave Seth alone with Papa for a single moment as long as he’s in this house.”
“Yes, my lord. It’s good to have you home, my lord.”
“Oui, oui.” Finally. He took the stairs two at a time. Just as he reached the end of the corridor, a curly-haired maid was stepping from the room, closing the door behind her, holding a tray.
“She is resting, my lord,” she whispered.
Joseph frowned. “I suppose I can wait until supper.”
“She’s eaten, my lord.” The maid looked pointedly at the tray she held. “She is quite exhausted.” With that, she disappeared through the servant’s stairs.
Joseph leaned against the wall. After a moment, he dug deep in his pocket and felt for the fragile scrap of fabric he’d found on the wooden planks of the ship days ago. Already, it was frayed at the edges, the blood dried to a rust-brown.
It mattered not that his wife couldn’t read. Relief squeezed his heart. She hadn’t been in love with Charles Thomas. The man had been schooling her. In some way she’d let him know of her disability and chose to seek help. That was an act of courage.
He stuffed the muslin back into his pocket. He pulled himself from the wall and turned the knob on the bedchamber door and peered in. One could barely ascertain her small form in the large bed, but she was huddled on the far side as still as a hibernating bear. He backed out. There was plenty of time to talk. She wasn’t going anywhere. They were married now.
Why did the thought leave him so uneasy?
Chapter Thirteen
Kendra lay like a curled marbled statue for an immeasurable amount of time after the door closed, the wait excruciating. She’d known it was Joseph by the raised hair on her nape. Fear left her breathless, in an utter fury of shaking beneath the covers.
When what seemed like hours had ebbed by, she crawled off the bed and rearranged the pillows in her place. Fully dressed, she tiptoed to the wardrobe and pulled out her valise, to pack the meager belongings Willow had so painstakingly unpacked. She felt a little guilty about that. She laid the gypsy doll on top and fastened it shut.
Keeping one ear tuned to the adjoining door, she moved quietly to the window and tipped the latch. Nary a creak sounded, a hefty credit in Martha’s favor. Yes, Martha had earned her fee, just as had Joseph. I suppose you’ve more than earned your fee. Doubly so, since you’ve bound yourself to her personally.
“Doubly so,” she whispered, dropping her bag. It crashed softly into the bushes below. Re-latching the window, she moved to the door and laid her ear against it. Dowry and contracts in hand, I shall leave for Yorkshire at once. Not that she would be here by the time he arrived. I’m sorry, Papa. I’ll miss you.
Silence from the hall. I wish to see for myself that my daughter is well and truly cared for. He should have thought of that before he paid a magician to marry her. Now she would be the one to perform the disappearing act. I must thank you in overlooking her slight inability to read…
She slipped out the door and made her escape by way of the servants’ stairs.
Chapter Fourteen
Joseph had not slept well. Resigned, he dressed and made his way to the breakfast room.
The once opulent hall was bare of all but its grand furnit
ure. It did gleam in a high shine. But the pictures had been sold off to help alleviate the debt Uncle Rupert had seen fit to bestow. Wallpaper in deep red reminded him of blood. Kendra should have a say in the remodel.
Though he hadn’t known her long, he felt certain she would opt for colors like marigold, sky blue, and lime green. Her entire demeanor encompassed spring. He hadn’t liked waking without her hand on his chest. He grimaced. She’d been sleeping a long time. It was worrisome. His disquietude from the night before had never settled.
He moved to the sideboard and filled a plate, his thoughts as scrambled as the eggs. He should have stormed her chambers, confessed what he’d learned. But she was intensely private about her literacy issues. The scars on her hands screamed it from the mountaintops. But he could have reassured her—vowed her inability to read changed nothing of his feelings.
Do—do you love me?
I…I’m attracted to you.
“Hell.” The plate slid from his grasp in a loud crash to the floor.
“Clumsy are we, Cousin?” Seth appeared round the door and grinned at the splattered food.
Joseph shot him a disgusted glance. He stepped back to allow the footman ample room to clear his faux pas. “How is it that you are still here?”
Seth ignored him, nudging the footman aside despite the fact he was still sopping up the mess.
Joseph wished he could sop up Seth, considering the canary yellow waistcoat his cousin had donned. ’Twas enough to give a grown man a malady. Relief came as his father ambled through the door. Joseph took his arm and assisted him to the chair at the table’s head.
“Good morning, Uncle. You look remarkably fit.” Seth’s malevolence was barely concealed.
Yarmouth squelched Seth with a look that had Joseph grinning. “I demand to meet your lovely bride, my son. Where is she? You didn’t keep her up so late that—”
“Papa!” Joseph barked, wishing that had indeed been the case. Unfortunately, all had been unnervingly quiet on Kendra’s side of the door. If she had so much as sneezed, he would have heard her. Mon Dieu, he was a lovesick fool.
Love. Sick. Fool… The words stabbed through to his heart.
“I believe I caught sight of her late yesterday,” Seth said. “Pretty little thing, too. She was hovering outside the library door.”
His audacity set Joseph’s teeth on edge.
Then he frowned as the light dawned. A subtle yet nauseating sense of disaster unfurled deep in his gut. “What do you mean? Martha sent her to rest.”
The dining room doors crashed back. The maid he’d seen leaving Kendra’s room the previous night stood before them, terror stricken, wringing her hands.
“What is the meaning of this?” Seth demanded.
She flinched.
“Nephew! You are not the man of this house.” Yarmouth’s voice held quiet authority. “What is it, my girl? You gave us quite the start.”
“I-I’m sorry, my lord, b-but she’s gone.” Her voice was a whimper.
“Who’s gone?” his father asked, but Joseph already knew and flew from his chair.
“Are you speaking of my cousin’s idiot wife?” Seth laughed. The sound echoed awkwardly against the bare walls. “Surely she is just wandering the property, Cousin. She probably hasn’t the sense to find her way to the road.”
The maid gasped, horrified.
Joseph went a step farther, drawing back a fist. The plant in Seth’s nose was a satisfying crack. He slid from his chair in a heap, much like the plate Joseph had dropped. “Bicks, throw out the garbage.”
“Gladly, my lord.”
“Better yet, lock him away until we locate Lady Lawrie.” Joseph turned to the maid. “Come,” he said, and they rushed up the stairs. “When did you discover her gone?”
“Less than ten minutes ago, my lord.”
Joseph shoved past her door and studied the chamber. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary at first glance, just a plumper version of her beneath the blankets. Striding to the bed, fingers trembling, he pulled them back. Pillows, two pillows.
“Sir, where would Lady Ken—Lawrie run? She had no coin.”
Hell. His wife had proven resourceful thus far. Joseph strode to the wardrobe and jerked it open. Empty. “Where’s the doll?” He spoke curtly.
Tears streamed down the maid’s face. “The doll?” she repeated, brows furrowing in confusion.
“You saw the doll, oui? ’Tis dressed as a gypsy, black hair, colorful skirts, eerie eyes?” He flung out a hand.
She moved slowly to the closet, expression still puzzled. “Yes, my lord, but I fail to understand— It’s gone, as well.”
Lips pursed, Joseph dashed through the adjoining door to his chamber. She had blunt, all right, and enough to get her anywhere she chose. He stood at the window and considered her options. There were few. The most likely destination was Ixworth, her family home. He groaned. Ixworth was at least five days away by mail coach. London, another two.
He shoved a hand through his hair. Seth was wrong. Not only was his wife not an idiot, but she’d managed on her own wit for years.
****
Kendra pulled the mob cap over her brows, the one she’d pilfered from the kitchens. She’d had no choice. Her hair was like a lighthouse beacon. She’d survived the pony cart that had bounced her derriere numb. She even sported a nice fat splinter in her middle finger, compliments of gripping the wooden side when the wheel dipped in a particularly deep pit on the road. It wasn’t as if she’d had many options.
Added to that, her plans to head north had gone slightly awry. Although, in retrospect, that may have bought her time. Now, she found herself in a luxurious contraption with seats of cushioned velvet, a child of two planted on her lap, bound for Leeds.
Mary Elizabeth had a full head of dark curly hair and large violet eyes. Said child seemed unnaturally enamored with Kendra’s white cap. She closed her hand over Mary’s before the wayward child succeeded in tugging it off completely. As it happened, several blonde locks escaped.
“Kate! Miss Faye.”
Kendra jerked, startled at the sharpness. So did Mary. “Yes, ma’am?”
Mary Elizabeth’s mother, Lady Elinor Ballard, would likely expire from mortification if she realized the nanny she’d employed to escort them to Sunderland was, in actuality, the Earl of Macclesfield’s feebleminded daughter. Henry Ballard was merely a baron, and his wife was a bit high in the instep.
“What are those dreadful marks on your hands?”
Kendra swallowed and lowered her gaze. “I-I don’t know, ma’am. I’ve had them as long as I-I can remember.”
Her breath caught in her throat until Lady Ballard “hmphed.” Blessedly, she let the matter go. Despite the comfort of the carriage’s opulence, Kendra was exhausted. She’d survived two nights thus far, but pretending to understand and to care for an energetic child was taking its toll.
Mary Elizabeth, once ensconced in the chamber she and Kendra were forced to share, chose not to rest. Why should she, after having been trapped in a gilded cage all day? While Mary took refuge in sleep on Kendra’s lap by day, the evening was then spent chasing after the little minx. It mattered not how adorable she was.
At the crack of dawn, the same situation repeated. Kendra vowed, in that moment, that if she were ever cursed with such little monsters she would employ two nannies—each to relieve the other.
“You look vaguely familiar, Miss Faye. Who was your previous mistress?”
A sick feeling fluttered. But Kendra was the consummate actress. She masked a smirk while she considered the stage as an option should her current plan fall through. “No one, milady. I am but…sixteen…” Her voice trailed off.
“Hmm, that’s odd. I feel certain I have seen you before.”
She had, too. Lady Ballard’s other daughter was Kendra’s true age of eighteen, Ester Mae, a horrid girl. Ester Mae spent her time dwelling on the shortcomings of others, quite loudly in fact, while bolstering her own virtues, fe
w that they were.
Kendra stared out the window at the passing landscape as the memory assaulted her.
“What is this?” Ester Mae strolled into the retiring room at the Hamdens’ bash, Ginny Hamden in her wake. “Lady Frazier, are you hiding?”
“Of course not,” Kendra huffed, indignantly. Thankfully, she’d repaired herself before their barrage. Tears dried, back straight, she faced Ester Mae and Ginny.
Someone had suggested Charades, and when it came time for Kendra’s turn, she caught the malice in Ester Mae’s eyes. Unfortunately, not soon enough. Ester Mae handed Kendra the scrap of paper mentioning the title she was to perform. Ester had set her trap well. Kendra played ill and thought she’d survived the close call.
Ester Mae’s gaze pierced Kendra with barely disguised rancor. Her pitch, dipped in mirth, was directed to Ginny. “Lady Frazier has difficulty with…” A theatrical pause filled the small chamber.
Alarm and panic started from the tips of Kendra’s toes and worked its torture up her body in a torrential storm.
“Reading.” Ester Mae gave a delighted laugh. “Even the most easily formed words escape her simple mind.”
“Do tell,” Ginny gasped. “You can’t read, Lady Frazier?”
“Of-of course I can read, Ginny,” Kendra snapped. She smoothed trembling hands over her silk skirts, thankful she’d retained her gloves. Gossip would run rampant now, for Ginny was notorious for talk. “I’m just not feeling well.” Ester Mae was a hateful, hateful girl, looking too far above her station. The question of how Ester Mae had learned her secret paled in comparison to her need to bolt. But not before she put the little heathen in her place.
Kendra breathed through the tension, willing it from her face.
Kendra smiled. “Ester Mae, Sir Ralph is waiting for you.” She moved to the door and clasped the handle.
Ester Mae’s lips lifted in triumph. “Oh. I must go, Ginny. Um…Lady Frazier, where, pray tell?”
She imposed her most innocent gaze. “Just outside the ballroom, I believe, behind the planter. He was talking to…” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Lady Wilkes.” Kendra made her exit on Ester Mae’s and Ginny’s simultaneous gasps. Everyone in the haute ton knew once Lady Wilkes sank her claws into a man breaking away became difficult. Though why it became difficult to leave was beyond Kendra’s comprehension. If one wished to leave, then one just left.
The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) Page 9