Chapter 7
Jervis stood in the moonlight, probably looking over the tournament field. A slight mist rose from the marshlands and drifted pass the makeshift grandstand in a silvery haze. Service had never considered himself an imaginative person, but with the pennants living on all fours corners and the family banner curling in the light breeze, he can almost picture King Arthur himself galloping out of the fog on his steed.
Camelot was Gwen’s favorite fantasy, he knew. If his niece could see it now, perhaps she would not be so skittish about this competition.
Not that Jervis was about to let her volatile moods destroy his confidence. Everything was in place, from the accommodating preacher seconds, well-trained horse, now waiting for Lance in the Willows’ stable. They have prepared for every contingency, made certain there was no way they could lose, by this time tomorrow, Jervis would be well on his way to becoming a wealthy man. Soon, he would be the man everyone looked up to, while his brother John would be the failure.
Turning back for the house, Jervis preened with self-satisfaction. At long last, he would be getting what he deserved. They have been frustrating years, watching his brother get everything-all the advantages, the money, Amanda…
Jervis refused to think of the past. All that mattered now was that in the end, he would be the one who proved the more successful brother.
Too bad John would not be alive to see it. The doctor had not yet warned him how short a time he had to live, but Jervis new. It was that very news that made him sit down start planning.
As caretaker of his brother’s estate, with access to all his personal records, Jervis knew what was written in John’s will. The Willows would go to his silly niece, there was no way to prevent it, but he if found a way to get his hands on her true fund. According to its terms, sturdy amount had been set aside for when, unless she married a man John disapproved of, in which case, all the money would retreat to his younger brother.
Jervis smiled. Since Lance had been specified as the man John lease wanted his daughter to wed, his poor brother would probably heal over at the reception, when Gwen married Lance tomorrow.
It had occurred Jervis that perhaps he need not lose the Willows, either, if he kept his wits about him. With a fool like Lance to manage what was left of the plantation, Gwen and her new husband soon be forced to sell. Kind and understanding Uncle Jervis, doing his best to “keep the place in the family,” could then steal the place for a small price. With the trust fund, the sale of Bell Oaks, and the profits from the competition, he could then restore the Willows to this showplace it had once been.
Nostalgically, he looked up at the tall, stately house, then back to the broad, empty fields waiting for cane. The Willows had been among the finest spreads on the Mississippi. Oh, how they had all basked in John’s glory in those days. What fun, what riches. If only Amanda…
Shaking himself firmly, seeing no profit in dwelling upon the memory, he strode to the house, halted by the sound of the stable door opening to his right. “Edith” he blurted, surprised to see his daughter emerge. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”
“Oh, daddy, my heavens, I thought you were a ghost.” She laughed, for more heartily than the occasion would warrant. Taking his arm, she steered him away from the stable.
“You did not answer my question, girl.”
“Didn’t I?” She looked straight ahead, as if hell-bent on reaching the house. “I needed to be by myself for a spell. What with all the preparations, it has been so hectic around here, a girl can barely think.”
“What can be troubling you so, we must think out in the stable?”
She stopped, taking a deep breath for return to him with a strange expression. “Oh daddy, is all this necessary? Must we truly go through with the tournament tomorrow?”
Now what was this? “How many times must I explain? This is my brother’s house. His and Gwen’s needs must come first. We must get her future settled, before we can start looking to find you a suitable husband.”
“I do not want a suitable husband. I want-“she broke off. “Oh, daddy, I know you want what’s best for me, what about poor Lance? What if you truly does not want to marry Gwen?”
“Those two have been sweethearts for years. Of course, he wants to marry her.”
“But he could lose the tournament. He is older now, he might not be the true champion anymore.” Bit her lip, then grabbed his sleeve. “You know, daddy, it might be best if I were on the panel of judges.”
Smiling down at his girl, Jervis felt a strong surge of pride. She might not be the son he had wanted, but she had to admit, his Edith could out think the best of them. “That is a wonderful idea, baby girl. Truth to tell, though, I have already put you on that panel. With you, me, Gwen, and John deciding, we can make sure things stay heavily in Lance’s favor.”
She loosened her hold on his sleeve. Was it a trick of the moonlights, or did her smile fade? “True enough, but can we really rely on what’s uncle John will do? Or Gwen herself, for that matter?”
“Lance has been practicing for weeks, there is no way he can lose.” Jervis grew impatient; he did not appreciate having his spirits damaged. “Don’t you be fretting over this, baby girl. Daddy has things well in hand.”
“Yes, but-“
“Seems to me you have been spending too much time thinking in that stable. Maybe it is time my baby was getting herself to bed. Go on with you now. Get back to the house and catch up on your beauty sleep.”
She looked ready to argue, but he gave her his best scowl. Casting one last look over her shoulder, smiled tightly and made her way inside.
Jervis retreated to the shadows, afraid she might try to defy him by sneaking out again. Busy watching the back porch, he missed the dark figure slipping, undetected, out through the stable door.
A good thing, too, for it would have been hard to mistake that well-groomed blonde head.
***
Edith stopped inside the back door, leaning up against it as she caught her breath. That had been a close call. If daddy had caught her with Lance…
Part of her almost wished he had. It would be taken out of her hands than; my even force everyone to face what she had known for years, that Lance should not be marrying Gwen. The way he had held Edith tonight, kissing her so fervently, surely he belonged with her instead.
But no, he was determined to go through with the competition, and all the kisses in the world would not stop him. Nor could she blame him, for what, after all, did she have to offer him that could compare with the Willows?
Once again, Gwen got it all and took it all for granted.
It was not fair, Edith decided. She had done everything but stand on her head to throw Gwen and Michael together. They get promises of the money her father owed him, she had lured him to the docks, than later to the Fosters’ ball, but on both occasions, her impetuous cousin had failed to commit the necessary indiscretion-or at least, Lance had not caught her at it. Gwen seemed uncharacteristically determined to act like a Lady, and Michael was not cooperating at all.
Most men would jump at the prospect of winning the Willows, yet here it was the night before the competition, and he had yet to take Edith up on her offer. Everything depended on his appearance. He was the only man she knew capable of actually beating Lance.
Pushing away from the door, she swallowed her panic. Michael did not come, she would just have to find some other means, however drastic, to stop that wedding.
***
The next morning, Gwen studied herself in the mirror, well pleased with her image. For the first time since she had returned home, she was wearing a dress worth the effort of donning. Royal blue silk, trimmed with a lace and pearls, and this stately princess style gown had been her mother’s favorite from tournaments in the past.
Holding up the long, flowing sleeves, Gwen imagined Lance kneeling before her as he claimed her hand. “You are my vision,” he would gush, his eyes glazed with passion.
Twirling happily, she was so caught up in fantasy, she did not hear her cousin enter the room.”
“Does your daddy know you are wearing that down?” Edith’s sharp tone cut the fantasy to shreds. “He’s not that far gone he won’t recognize it. Everyone in the parish will know it was once answered Amanda’s.”
In her mind, Gwen could see father standing in the doorway, staking her for mother, before slamming the door in her face. “He won’t mind?” She said lying. “It is time this old thing got some use anyway.”
When shook her head, denying this, though she feared her cousin could be right. Still, she wanted this dress-needed it-to help find the confidence to go out on that field. Though she could never admit it to her father-much less to Edith-Gwen was scared half to death. “Daddy will understand. Today of all days, he will want me looking my best.”
“Do you truly think he cares what you look like, today or any other day?”
Refusing to listen to her spiteful talks, Gwen daintily lifted her skirt’s, not having a hoop, she’d been forced to dawn several petticoats, which not only left her faint from the heat, but made it quite hard to navigate.
By the time Gwen gathered enough material to keep from tripping, Edith, whose yellow muslin skirt looked like the Liberty Bell, blocked the doorway. “Stop making excuses, Gwen. You cannot keep running away from the truth. I declare, isn’t it time you admit your father doesn’t care about what happens to you? Uncle John does not love you. And for that matter, neither does Lance.”
Stunned by her cousins attack, Gwen froze, her hands tightening on the silk. “That is not true,” she protested. “Lance will not be out there competing today, if he did not love me.”
“It’s not you he is competing for. It is the Willows”
“You are jealous, Edith. You always have been.”
“It is all just a show, the only way he and daddy knew to trick you into participating. They need the money, you know”
Shaking her head viciously, Gwen dropped the silk “what a hateful thing to say. Lance does love me. He has sworn to protect me always.”
Edith’s voice took on a brittle edge. “Maybe he has found someone else to love and protect, I think he means to lose today. Indeed, I am so certain of it, I am willing to bet my pearl necklace for your…” Her eyes settled on Gwen’s neck, “… Your mother’s locket.”
Gwen reach for the locket, closing her hands around it. “Why are you doing this, I know we have never gotten on, but to say such things to me, now when I’m scared what the day will bring-can you truly hate me that much?”
Gwen looked away, into the mirror, as if talking to her reflection instead. “Maybe I’m tired of everything going your way and you thinking it’s your doing. Just once, it would be nice to see the high and mighty Queen Gwen taken down a little.”
One tried to push past her cousin. “I hate to disappoint you, but-“
“Lance will not claim you,” Edith said through her teeth, crossing her arms as she continue to block the door. “You can bet money on it.”
“Money?” By now, Gwen was angry. “Neither of us has a penny. I guess we will have to wager your pearls against my locket. I do hope you are ready to part with that necklace by the end of the day.”
This time, Edith moved out of the way, now that the damage was done, and Gwen confidence sorely shaken. Hurrying down the hallway, Gwen realized that her entire future would be decided before the sun set, and she must rely upon others to settle it. Though she did not for a moment suppose Lance would deliberately lose, she had an overwhelming need to see him now, to hear his assurance. To have him hold her, soothe her, convince her that he lived to protector and not just for today, but always.
Lifting her skirts as she raced off to find him, Gwen did not see her cousin behind her, watching and biting her lip.
***
Busy attaching the silver streamers to his spear, Lance mentally patted himself on the back. He knew he cut quite a figure into his white breeches and silver trimmed tunic. It pleased him no ends that he looked every inch the dashing knight, the perfect heir apparent to the throne of the Willows. When he rode out onto the field, every head would turn and smile with recognition, knowing that by the days and, Lance would be the new Lord and master.
Ah yes, everything was proceeding according to plan. He would win Gwen’s hand, he would wed her and that her, and get her with child, just as his mother demanded.
Once all was settled, when he had the Willows back on its feet again, he will live his life as he chose. That was the reason for great wealth, his father had taught, to give a man the means of following his heart’s desire. And his desire, at this moment, centered on Edith.
She was teasing him, the little temptress, offering him just enough to drive him mad with lust, then withdrawing to hide behind her father’s displeasure. If Lance did not need Jervis’s help so badly right now, he would have put the female on her back, right here in this very stable, and on more than one occasion.
He smiled, thinking how clever he was, giving them Bella Oaks in exchange for the Willows. By keeping Edith near, he could take his pleasure of her whenever he needed.
He would need her often, for each held no illusions of any grand passion in his marriage. There are two women in this world, mama insisted, the strumpet and the lady, and woe to the man who confuse them. The good Lord put strumpet’s on this Earth to deal with man’s beastly needs, so his lady could remain above his animal passions. A man could take his pleasure with his mistress, but bedding his wife must be a chaste and sacred occasion.
“Lance?”
He turned to the sound of Gwen’s voice, pasting a smile on his face. No sense letting her know his plans, at least not until the ring was on her finger. “Gwen, my love. What brings you here to the stables?”
“I just…” Stood by the door, biding her lips. “You will win today, won’t you?” She said in a rush. “Please, Lance, promise me you will.”
“I have told you again and again that I shall.” Try as he might, Lance could not keep irritation from slipping into his tone.
“I know, but, Lance, I cannot bear it if I had to marry a stranger. I just cannot bear it.”
“What is it?” He strode over to stand before her. “You cannot doubt me? You know I should always be your champion.”
She nodded, but the fingers toying with her locket trembled. Taking her hands in his, shook his head. “Your hands are cold as ice.”
“Warm me then, Lance,” he said quietly, gazing up at him. “Kiss me.”
He nearly refused. He knew he should remind her that a gentleman did not service his lady in a stable, and certainly not mere moments before and important competition, but he also realized that it kissing Gwen would make her less skittish about the upcoming moments, it would be well worth the effort.
Meaning down, he brushed her lips with his own. There was a simple kiss and quietly pleasant. “There,” he said, dropping her hands as he pulled away. “Do you feel better?”
She nodded, dazed and breathless of speech. Typical female, he thought, but then, more indulgently, he granted that it was her first kiss.
“You run along no and go take your seat,” he said, turning her toward the door. “I will need my lady cheering for me when I make my grand entrance. You do have my token, I hope? I want every man there to see you granting your favor to me.”
Again she nodded, but a crease appeared between her brows. “Go along, “he pushed, recognizing that the expression. It generally preceded a difficult question, or worse, a scene. “Hurry, or you will be late, and we certainly don’t want to risk angering your father today.”
He notched her toward, until her feet began to move on their own. As she passed through the door, he noticed she touched her lips. No doubt remembering of the moment he would be kissing her again.
Well pleased with himself, he turned back to his horse, but as he did, he saw a flash of yellow out the corner of his right. Tensed, instantly on guard. He coul
d ill afford to have the other entrants see his second mount, the striking white steed in the far stall. If and when it came time to joust, Lance wanted the animal to be a complete an unpleasant surprise.
***
Jervis headed toward the playing field, looking for Edith. The way folks filled up through the front gate, he had decided, one of them should be there to greet their guests. Since service needed to settle Gwen and John to their seats, only Edith was expendable. Let her man to the gate and pretend all was as if should be, though in truth, this was proving to be a somewhat less than spectacle of fair.
Gwen did not know-and Jervis say no reason to tell her-that the local gentry looked down there noses at the notion of men competing for her hand. Here hypocrites, every last one of them, professing this competition but need them. Jervis thought it a sheer case of sour grapes. They were too miserable to watch with the participation fee, but they would come in drove us to watch.
And they came expecting drama; he could hear it in their voices, could feel their excitement flowing in the air. Passing the stable where Lance groomed both his horses, Jervis felt a tinge of foreboding. God help him if Lance did not do his part.
Annoyed, Jervis told himself he was absurd to let Edith’s questions and affect him with doubt. Hadn’t they done everything but stand on their heads to guarantee Lance’s victory? What could possibly go wrong?
Noticing his daughter hovering outside the open stable door, he paused with a frown. Why was she hanging about the stables again? He had sent her to fetch Gwen, to make certain her cousin arrived at the field; what was Edith doing here instead?
He watched her make a sudden dash for the house, clearly upset and acting like she had something to hide. Had she been pestering Lance? Jervis wondered irritably, cursing the girl’s foolishness. Nothing must distract Lance from the competition, for his marriage to Gwen. Not when his entire future hinged upon that ceremony taking place today.
The Willows Page 11