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“Great day Miss Agnes,” Goldie murmured, fanning dust away from her face. “That’s the strangest man I believe I’ve ever met.”
Big looked at her and smoothed an unruly flaxen curl back from her face. “Goldie, forget about His Highness Hutchins. Tell me the plan from beginning to end with no more interruptions.”
She heard the quiet resignation in his voice, and decided to take full advantage of it. “I was up almost all night thinkin’ it over,” she assured him excitedly. “It’s purty obvious that this Lord Duke Tremayne Ravenhurst fella’s never gonna come back here. And I can understand his reasons. His daddy, mama, and sweetheart all died here, Big. The place would only remind him of those tragedies. That and the fact that he hasn’t been here in twenty years…why would he up and come back now? So what I’ll do is have my duke come for just a few hours or so. He’ll talk to the villagers, and then explain that he has to get back to London. It won’t be my fault that he can’t stay. I’ll have done exactly what folks want Uncle Asa and me to do by gettin’ him here.”
With a sigh, Big sat back down, leaning against the stone wall of the cottage. “But Goldie, you don’t know what the man looks like. I realize these people haven’t seen this Ravenhurst duke in years, but they’ll expect to see some kind of resemblance between your duke and the real duke’s parents.”
She tossed her bright hair off her shoulders, rose, and ambled around the small yard, kicking pebbles, picking leaves, and taking deep breaths of the fresh air. “Late last night, I sneaked into that big ole mansion up there,” she admitted, staring at the wonderful castle-like estate again. “I crawled right through the window, and—”
“Good Lord, what if that Hutchins bastard had caught you?”
She bent to examine a rotten log. “He wasn’t there. I saw him leave with my own eyes. Dora was gone, too. Did y’know she’s all the time up there? Maybe she’s his servant. Besides, Big, I didn’t go in to steal or anything like that. I just went to see if there were any family paintin’s linin’ the walls. Rich people do that, y’know. Mildred Fickle said so. Big, in one closed-up room there were dozens of paintin’s. Dane must’ve taken ’em down and stashed ’em in there. All the portraits had little brass plaques under ’em that told who the paintin’s were of. The duke’s mama and daddy were there, and so was he. His name is Marion Tremayne. His middle initials are W. S., but I don’t know what they stand for.”
She strolled back to where Big sat. “You ever heard of a man bein’ named Marion, Big? Wonder what his mama was thinkin’ when she named him that? I reckon maybe she wanted a daughter so bad, she gave her son a girl name. Poor Duke Marion. Poor, poor Duke Marion.”
“Goldie, Marion is a boy’s name too.”
She stuck a leaf stem in her mouth and chewed on it, grimacing at its bitter flavor. “Sounds like a girl’s name to me. Anyhow, little Marion was only about three years old when his paintin’ was done, but after starin’ at his parents’ paintin’s along with his, I think I’ve figured out what he looks like now. He’s gotta be over six feet tall because both his mama and his daddy looked tall. His hair is black and wavy, he’s got a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a long straight nose. I couldn’t tell too much about his mouth because it was sorta pinched up. Looked like he was antsy about havin’ to stand there and get painted. And I wasn’t sure about the color of his eyes either because he was wearin’ a hat that shaded ’em. His mama had blue eyes, his daddy brown ones, so I was gonna take my chances and do eenie meenie miney mo.”
She smiled at the look of dismay in Big’s eyes and turned to walk back out into the yard again, her hands clasped behind her back. When she’d traveled a few yards, she spun around quickly. “But lo and behold, Big, Aunt Della’s diaries say the duke’s eyes are green! They’re probably a throwback or somethin’ to one of his kin. That or his mama was messin’ around with some green-eyed milkman. Mildred Fickle says rich people always have lovers. That must be another one of those English customs. And I think Duke Marion’s real strong too, Big, because his daddy was all muscle if that paintin’ was tellin’ the truth. Muscles are inherited, aren’t they?”
Big stared into her tawny eyes and shook his head in exasperation. “And what are you going to do about fancy clothes, a carriage, and horses? You can’t dress your duke in tattered clothing, and you can’t have him saunter into the village with dust all over his boots. He has to dress—”
“I’m gonna borrow some clothes that are already up there in his duke house. I found some in a closet in one of those upstairs bedrooms. It was a real dusty bedroom, so I’m sure the clothes have been there a long time, and they don’t belong to Mr. Hutchins.”
“If they’ve been there that long, they’ll be outdated,” Big pointed out.
She stared at him for a long time. “Why do you have to make so many problems, Big?”
“Me?” he asked in utter disbelief.
She continued to stare at him, her mind at work on the point he’d brought up. “Hell, Big, beautiful clothes never get outdated,” she decided out loud. “They stay in fashion forever. Everybody knows that. And great day Miss Agnes, you’ve never seen the kind of clothes up there in that house! I was so excited I almost set ’em on fire when I dropped my candle! Satins and silks, and some even had gold buttons! Fancier’n anything I ever saw Amos Hicks back in Shakin’ Pines, Georgia, wear. He—”
“Goldie, you are off of the subject again. I asked you not to interrupt yourself anymore.”
“Oh, all right, ill-box.”
“And don’t call me that. I’m not crabby, only impatient.”
She walked back to him, dragging the toes of her shoes in the dirt behind her. When she reached him, she looked over her shoulder at the lines her dragging feet had made. “As far as gettin’ a carriage and horses for the duke…I’m not that far in my plans yet.”
“What?” Big asked, pretending astonishment. “You mean there are actually some holes in this grand scheme of yours?”
“Not many, and I’ll fill ’em in later.”
Big fashioned a steeple with his fingers and laid his chin upon it. “Hole number two, Goldie: how are you going to get this poor common man you find to agree to these wild plans?”
She patted his shiny bald head. “I’ve got about five pounds of money. Uncle Asa bought some stuff the other day, and he told me that people here pay for things in pounds. I reckon they have to weigh the money before they can pay for stuff with it. I don’t know how in the world these English folks manage to carry more than, say…ten or twelve pounds around with ’em. Wonder what they do when somethin’ costs over a hundred pounds? Y’know, Big, now that I think of it, that might be why the duke’s daddy had so many muscles. A person would have to be strong to tote around so many pounds of money. Anyway, I have a whole pile of silver coins that I figure weighs about five pounds, and I’ll offer my duke three pounds of ’em for doin’ the job. I’ve been savin’ all these years, and Uncle Asa doesn’t know. Don’t tell him.”
Nothing Big could think of would induce him to tell Asa Mae about her savings. The bastard would steal it from her and spend it all on drink. “All right, Goldie, let’s pretend your plan is foolproof. Just where do you propose to find your Marion W. S. Tremayne?”
“Well, at dawn tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow? You just told Hutchins it would be two weeks before—”
“I lied because he yelled at me.” She tilted her chin up and folded her arms across her breasts. “Y’know how I hate it when folks yell at me, Big. He deserved to be lied to. We’re leavin’ tomorrow mornin’. We’ll just keep on travelin’ till—”
“We?” Big scrambled up from his seat so quickly he lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. “Goldie—”
“Big, why’d you fling yourself into the dirt?”
Big stood and slapped soil off his knees and elbows. “I always pitch myself down when I’m happy! And your scheme has made me just delirious with joy!”
“Oh, Big.” Goldie smiled a
nd shook her head over his sass. “You have to go with me, y’know. What if someone tries to get me while I’m on the road? They have lots of highwaymen here in England. Mildred Fickle told me all about ’em. Would you be able to sleep at night knowin’ I was out there at the mercy of those dreaded English highwaymen? They wear these black capes and boots, ride black horses, and they carry these long, vicious swords! What if one gets me? What if—”
“All right, all right! But—’”
“We’ll have a weapon too, Big. Diaries aren’t the only things Aunt Delia kept. She’s got her own sword in there, and I mean to tell you it’s the biggest thing you ever saw. She wrote that it’s a Scottish claymore. Belonged to somebody in her family. The thing’s so big, I can’t hardly lift it. But see, the size alone will scare any dreaded English highwaymen who try to get us. I’ll just sorta let it hang off Dammit’s saddle in a warnin’ kinda way.”
“Thank you, Goldie. I can’t think of the last time I felt so safe.” Big shook his head again.
She nodded and tapped her chin with her finger. “I’ll leave a note to Uncle Asa tellin’ him that we went to get ole Marion. It’s better that he doesn’t know about my real plans because of the kind of mouth he has when he’s drinkin’. I’ve gotta find the man somewhere faraway, y’see. I can’t take the chance of pickin’ some commoner that one of the villagers knows. When I find him, I reckon I’ll need about two months or so to teach him duke stuff. Then I’ll—”
“Which brings me to another question. How can you give him duke lessons when you know nothing about the English aristocracy?” Big sat back down and drummed his fingers on his knee.
“Big, you do love to ask picky questions, don’t you?” Goldie sighed, then continued before he could reply. “Mildred Fickle knew, and so did Aunt Delia. There are all sorts of noble-folk descriptions in her diaries. See, other dukish people used to come visit the Tremaynes. Aunt Delia wrote all about ’em. ’Course, a lot of what she wrote is messed up by those water stains I told you about, but I can guess at what I can’t read. Y’know what a good guesser I am, Big. And Mildred Fickle said noble people sniff each bite of food before they eat it. She said that custom probably came from back when noble people were always gettin’ poisoned by their enemies. Smellin’ his food will be the first thing I teach my duke. Yeah, food-sniffin’ is high on the list for duke requirements. And ’course we’ll get glimpses of real dukes when we get to London.”
“London!” Big bolted to his feet again.
“Well, of course London!” She turned toward the fields and held her arms open wide as if embracing the distant city. “Big, we have lots of duke research to do! What better place to do it? All those bluebloods congregate there, and—Do you think their blood is really blue?”
Big was so exasperated he couldn’t answer.
Goldie hugged herself, supremely proud of her grand plan. “After we’ve learned all we can from our duke-spyin’ in London, we’ll come back here. By that time I hope I’ll have figured out what to do about a fancy carriage and horses to pull it. We’ll—”
“Goldie!” Asa shouted from inside the cottage. “Where the hell are you, you worthless, good-for-nothin’ twit! I want my damn dinner, and I don’t see a blasted thing in here cookin’! Goldie!”
Big’s heart lurched when he saw the pink in her cheeks pale. “Goldie, don’t you listen to him. You—”
“It’s all right, Big,” she squeaked, turning away so he wouldn’t see her tears. “I gotta go. He’s probably got him one of his day-after headaches, and y’know how frenzied he gets when he’s feelin’ low and hungry at the same time.” She hurried to the door, but turned back to Big before she opened it.
“Big,” she began, chewing her bottom lip. “I’ve got to find my common man just as fast as I can. There’s just no tellin’ what kinda trouble Uncle Asa’ll get into while I’m gone. I’ll have to get back to Hallensham as soon as I’ve got Duke Marion. Big…I could really use your help, but you never did say if you’d give it to me or not. I’m gonna go through with the plan no matter if you go with me or not, but—Big, will you help me?”
He gazed into Goldie’s huge, amber eyes and saw her hope. “We’ll find your Duke Ravenhurst, Goldie. If we have to scour all of England, we’ll find him that damn blueblood.”
She let go of the doorknob and gave him an impulsive hug.
“Now, now,” Big said, embarrassed, “go get Asa’s dinner or there’ll be hell to pay.”
She smiled and turned back to the door. “Oh, by the way, the new word for the day is risible. It means ‘capable of laughing.’ So if someone has a sense of humor, I reckon you could say he’s risible. With that, she disappeared into the cottage.
Big sighed. Goldie loved learning new words, and found a new one every day in her precious dictionary. She made Big learn them too. It was rare when either one of them remembered to use the words, but that never deterred Goldie. “Risible,” he muttered down to Runt, who was nipping his pant leg. “I wish I were more risible. It would make these wild plans she’s dreamed up a whole lot easier to take.”
He looked out at the countryside and thought about all she’d told him. “Duke lessons, Runt. Food-sniffing of all things! Lord have mercy, I don’t know who to feel sorrier for—Goldie or her duke.”
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Rainbows and Rapture by Rebecca Paisley
Praise for Rainbows and Rapture and Rebecca Paisley
Amber House Books by Rebecca Paisley
Copyright Info Rainbows and Rapture
Rainbows and Rapture
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Epilogue
About the Author
Amber House Books by Rebecca Paisley
Diamonds and Dreams
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