by Robyn Carr
“You will chance nothing on it,” she told him. “Not a farthing.”
His eyes grew dark and his lips fixed in a stern line. “Nothing.”
She turned away from him and looked out the window again. His mind was made up and she would not ask him again. But when and if he changed his mind, she would listen.
“How soon can you be prepared to travel?”
“At your convenience, sir.”
“Two days?”
“How shall we go and what should I bring?”
“We’ll go by coach. Bring only traveling clothes and essential servants.”
“Two days will be fine,” she said, turning back to him. The hat he held in his hand was turning in his grasp. “I will be ready.”
“Thank you. And good day.”
“Geoffrey,” she called. He turned to hear her. “Will it be very long before I am—before this is done?”
He looked down, fiddled with his hat a bit more, and then looked up at her. “I think not terribly long. Perhaps by the fall. Are you eager?”
“No,” she breathed.
“We may need longer, to assure those—to be certain there is no suspicion.”
She nodded and bit her lip, a gesture that caused him to feel some pain. He hated for her to hurt. He could do nothing to help her but perhaps free her soon.
“There have been deaths in the city,” she remarked. “They say it’s plague.”
“Every death is called plague. It’s nothing.”
“It frightens me.”
“There are more important things to fear. The Dutch. The truth.”
“I don’t fear the truth, my lord. It has never harmed me before.”
He put his hat on his head and tapped it once. “This once, Alicia, it could.”
NINE
The property that had been restored to Fergus Bellamy lay west of London. The roads as far as Newbury were decent, but as the need to leave the well-traveled path and ride slightly northwest arose, the roads became wretched. Geoffrey rode alongside the coach while Rodney sat with the driver. Two horsemen, a meager number for a lord, accompanied the travelers, and Alicia rode within the coach with Margaret, her only servant. All in all, this prestigious family did not travel with as much pomp as usually accompanied nobles, and therefore did not get much recognition along the road. Innkeepers did not bow and scrape at their approach; while Geoffrey would have preferred more attention for himself and those with him, he didn’t get it, since it was not apparent that he was wealthy. He made his journey more in the manner of a tightfisted merchant.
The manor and surrounding land had been called Bellerose when it belonged to the Bellamy family, but the name had fallen away when the last Bellamy to own it, namely Fergus, left it to be looted and taken by someone else.
The road to the manor house was miserable, for it had been a long time since it had been tended. As the coach jounced toward the house, Alicia clung to the seat fighting regular attacks of nausea. “This ‘rose,’” she groaned, “should be a sight to see!”
When they finally halted and she threw open the coach door to look, she sighed with joy. The manor rose in red brick from the ground to four or five stories. The grounds were certainly neglected and tangled, but she could see that among the overgrowth were rosebushes and trees. Having been deprived of a life filled with wealth and castles, and having little other than Whitehall to compare this property to, she thought it beautiful. Her opinion of Whitehall was that it was a slice of city mess she could do without. The country talked to her; spoke her language.
“Bellerose...” she murmured, a smile coming to her lips.
“More thorn than rose,” Geoffrey grumbled. “It won’t get a good price at all. Who would want it? I would fain see the villages around it.”
“But it’s wonderful!” she insisted, jumping down from the coach without assist. Her slippered feet immediately found mud and she picked up her skirts with a curse. “Drat! I’ve never learned prudence.”
Geoffrey indicated the remainder of the road with his hand and smiled at her. “How do you propose to get the rest of the way to the house, madam?”
Alicia formed a pout and looked up at him. “Since there are no gentlemen on this trip, I am in a quandary, sir.”
Geoffrey chuckled and dismounted, leaving his hat on the saddlehorn. He sloshed through the mud to where she stood and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the house. The mud rose up his black leather boots and the filth from her gown and shoes scraped against his breeches. “We’ll have a mess to clean up once we get inside.”
“I’ve got to preserve my gowns,” Alicia told him. “Once you’ve thrown me over for a new baroness, I’ll have no one to buy me clothes.”
“You taunt me in my darkest hours,” he scolded.
“Finally, my lord,” she told him as he mounted the stairs to the landing, “after all these months I feel like a bride.”
He set her down quite firmly on the slab, a jolt that caused her to look at him with some disapproval. “I spoke too soon,” she grumbled.
Geoffrey couldn’t help laughing at her, for she had held up very well through the whole of the trip. Less than satisfactory lodgings did not upset her—she was used to worse—and never had she complained about their meals or hard traveling. Even the house, which was, in his opinion, a complete disaster, pleased her. Aye, there were advantages to having partnered himself with a resilient tavern wench. She had an honest and delightful excitement and took pleasure over the simplest things, and when he least expected it, she would laugh at their troubles.
“Just keeping you in line, madam,” he said with a bow. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Rodney was in a spot because of Geoffrey’s gallant action, for Margaret hovered in the open door of the coach with something of expectation on her face, and Rodney was flushed scarlet at the thought of having to carry her to the house. “Do you imagine he’ll follow suit?”
Alicia looked toward the coach and covered her mouth as she giggled. Geoffrey began pounding on the manor door, while Alicia’s attention was held entirely by Margaret and Rodney as they looked at each other in confusion. At her further laughter, Geoffrey turned. Margaret was not a small woman, and while Rodney was a large man, he had met his match. Though he was prepared to try, it was possible they’d be sprawled in the mud in no time. Even the horsemen were struggling to keep their faces composed.
“Rodney, you fool, make her a chair; use the other men!” Geoffrey shouted.
The ensuing scene brought more mirth, but only from those not participating, namely, Alicia and Geoffrey. The horsemen could not laugh, for they were required to clasp hands between them while Rodney directed Margaret as she left the coach backside first and dropped her large, round bottom on their arms, an action that nearly toppled all four into the muck.
By the time the six of them were safely landed, Alicia was holding her sides and Geoffrey was coughing loudly into his handkerchief. He wished, for a moment, that he’d been raised in the simple life so that he, like Alicia, could laugh openly without the worry of displaying poor breeding.
After a fair amount of pounding and attempting to jar the heavy oaken doors of the manor, it was clear that the place was barred from within, but no one would answer.
“There was to be a caretaker here,” Geoffrey grumbled.
“I wager he absconded, milord,” Rodney offered. “Dropped the bar in place and went out another door or window.”
The women stayed near the front door while the men, properly booted and brave, looked about the rest of the outside of the building. It was quite a long time before the sounds of the board slipping and the hinges squeaking could be heard. Geoffrey stood in the opened door with a sour look on his face, practically glaring at Alicia. “My lady,” he crooned sarcastically, “Bellerose.”
Alicia gingerly stepped inside. There was dirt nearly as thick inside as out, broken and useless furniture, evidence that animals had roamed through, rags that might h
ave covered windows at one time hanging from the walls, and a smell that would insult the laziest nose. “A rose indeed,” Alicia hummed.
She stood with Geoffrey just inside the door while the others wandered through, the men looking upstairs, and Margaret, muttering her disgust, examining the downstairs rooms. Lord and Lady Seavers stood quiet and contemplating for a while, listening to the echoes of footfalls upstairs and Margaret’s moving around downstairs. “How did you get in?” Alicia asked.
“The door to the gardens was not bolted. The caretaker, the good man who was to clean and protect the place, scooted with the money I gave him.”
“Was it much?”
“Five pounds, ten more of which he’d get on my arrival when the place was presentable.”
Alicia began to laugh.
“Five pounds amuses you, madam?”
She shook her head, but could not stop her laughter. “I imagine it was the easiest five he’s ever earned, and he was quick to see that there was no way to earn the ten you promised.”
He put both hands on his hips and stared at her. “And you find that a good jest, eh?”
Giggles overtook her and she blinked away tears as she tried to explain. “This fortune, my lord. You’ve paid so much, so many times over, to have it. A hundred to a wench, more for her gowns and so billed to you by the king, a caretaker that steals, and God knows how many more debts before you can count your gold.”
He screwed his face into a pout and looked around. “I admit it’s funny as hell.”
Alicia laughed the harder at that. “Not only did you have to marry,” she stammered. “You had to capture, educate, dress, and fight your bride.”
He looked at her in complete confusion, but she was not intimidated by his stare. While he stared, she controlled her laughter. “Fight?” he asked.
“Aye, my fine lord,” she said with a nod.
“How do I fight my bride?”
“You’re afraid to be my friend. And more afraid to be my lover.”
“Be damned,” he argued. “I do as I please.”
“Liar,” she said, arms crossed and small foot tapping.
“You are an ungrateful wench,” he scolded, but it was hard to look at her without a smile. She was so full of herself this afternoon. “Never have you thanked me for all you’ve gained through this alliance. And admit, my fair lass, I’ve thanked you aplenty and you’ve been angry with me for that.”
“I don’t feel appreciated.” She shrugged.
He threw his arms wide and looked at her in dismay. “Tell me, maid, what you want?”
She chuckled again, covering her mouth. Her eyes were alive with mischief as she looked at him. “It is great fun watching the pain on your face as you unleash every farthing for what you want. Yet I can’t say why you continually thank me. You’re unhappy most of the time.”
“I have a great deal on my mind,” he said in defense. “I will be happy when this is done.”
“I’m not sure, my lord. When it’s done it may simply be—” she shrugged and went on, “— done.”
“What do you prattle about, wench?” he demanded.
She looked at him with a wisdom that made him uneasy. “Did it ever occur to you that what would make you happiest is something you cannot buy?”
His expression closed, for it was a thing he had not considered. At least not for now. Right now all that he wanted had a price.
She laughed and danced away from him, going in the direction of her woman. A sharp thwack on her backside put a jump in her step. She turned with a frown.
Geoffrey raised one eyebrow and leered, his eyes roaming from the top of her head to her toes. “One day you may regret taunting me so.”
“Be cautious, my lord,” she warned, shaking a finger at him. “Don’t run up any more debts.”
The house was a big disappointment to Geoffrey. And its run-down condition caused him to walk about and mumble to himself for the better part of an hour, until he sent Rodney to fetch a flask of whiskey from the baggage. No one was quite sure what was going on inside the captain’s head while he drank and contemplated, but the rest of the group let him be and set about making the best of a bad situation.
Rodney found a decent supply of dry wood in a building that was a poor excuse for a barn, and Margaret was able to fashion a light meal out of food that had been brought along for the trip. Alicia decided the only decent room on the lower floor was probably a sitting room, and it was not long before a fire was blazing to warm it.
Alicia tucked up the hem of her fine velvet gown, pinning it up and letting her petticoats hang below to catch the dirt. She found a broom and began to clear some of the filth off the floor. She caught sight of Geoffrey as he passed the room, his drink in his hand. He was deep in thought.
In a bedchamber, Rodney found a mattress that did not seem to be inhabited by creatures, and he dragged it down the stairs and set it in front of the fire. While the horsemen took care of their animals, Rodney, Margaret, and Alicia sat before the fire to partake of bread, fruit, and cheese. Geoffrey entered with his drink and looked at them from the doorway.
“Some garden party,” he commented dryly.
“Are you hungry?” Alicia asked, holding a slice of bread and cheese toward him.
“The sight of this place has taken all thoughts of eating from my mind.”
“Will we be finding an inn for the night?” she asked.
“We’ll stay here the night and leave early in the morning.”
Margaret gulped hard and began to cough, but neither Alicia nor Rodney was surprised. They did not really expect Geoffrey to part with more money for lodging when there was a roof and fire here, however mean the accommodations.
“Where will we sleep?” Alicia asked. It seemed she was the only one who would question him.
“The women, here. The men, wherever each one finds his comfort.”
Rodney rose with a snort, his mouth full of bread and cheese, and pulled his coat tighter about him. “I’ll find my comfort in the barn. There is at least a pile of hay there.” He chewed and smiled down at Alicia. “I’ve made the best of a pile of hay before.”
“Can some be spared from that pile?” Alicia asked. “Mrs. Stratton deserves better than the floor, and this feather tick won’t do for us both.”
“Aye, lass,” he said appreciatively. “I’ll fix something up for her.” And with a nod toward the serving woman, he quit the room.
Alicia looked at Margaret with a smile. “I think he’s grown quite fond of you,” she teased.
“Bah!” she coughed, her cheeks brightening somewhat. Alicia could only giggle, a thing that made the woman flush the more, and shortly she rose to leave the room to conceal her embarrassment.
Alicia remained on the tick, nibbling at her bread and cheese, while Geoffrey looked in from the doorway. With a sigh, he moved toward her and picked a crust from the basket that had been carried in.
“If I didn’t think it quite insane,” he said with a mouthful of dry, hard bread, “I would think you find this enjoyable.”
“It doesn’t distress me, Geoffrey. Why should it?”
“It is a filthy sty. It is not an inheritance but a joke. A very bad joke.”
“But since it is not mine, why should I be troubled? And though you have to worry with what to do with this, you’ve been given a good deal of money to start your shipping, so what does it matter?”
“I shall have to have the place refurbished before it can be sold.”
She shrugged. “You’ll make it up in the price you get.”
“It is not a serious thing to you, is it?”
“I think I am lucky I was poor,” she confided. “You rich nobles have more problems than I could bear.”
He relaxed back on his haunches and looked at her, shaking his head. “Alicia,” he murmured, “I think perhaps you are right.”
Her eyes warmed and her smile was soft and sweet. “I like it when you use my name,” she whispered.
He turned away uncomfortably and looked into the fire. “I forgot myself,” he grumbled.
“Yes,” she said, her smile still directed at him. “I know.”
It would have been convenient for all six travelers to stay in one room for the night, the room that had been partially cleaned and warmed. But Rodney and the horsemen chose the stable, for the hay was soft and the coach and horses could be watched. Margaret fashioned a comfortable mattress of hay on the floor in a far comer of the sitting room and lay down exhausted the moment the sun was low in the sky. It was not long before her snores could be heard throughout the room.
Geoffrey had gallantly offered to stay inside the house for the night to see to any needs the women had, and though he was tired, he sat on the feather tick beside Alicia and looked into the fire.
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed, Geoffrey,” she told him. “You’ve gone through a great deal for very little.”
“I complain too much,” he conceded. “What has come of this marriage gives me a decent start. But it’s a hard pill to swallow,” he said with a laugh.
“How so?”
“I find myself almost wishing that Perry had managed to take it away from me.”
“That again. Well, what do you suppose he’d have done with it?”
“Hard telling, but I assure you he wouldn’t be grateful for it. And in some devious way he’d have turned it into money and got himself a large estate to sit and rot on.” He shrugged. “Perry hasn’t had enough power to suit him for a very long time.”
“I don’t seem to understand why he is poor. His father was an earl, was he not?”
“Aye, and his brother holds that earldom still, but Perry has wasted and lost what little was given to him. His family has left him to find his own means—and clearly he intends to come by it as easily as possible, through marriage.”
Alicia turned her head sharply to look at him. “And aren’t you proud that you didn’t choose such an easy escape!”
“I give you that, lass. I couldn’t see a better way for myself either.” He pointed a finger at her. “But I began my shipping and fought hard for the king.” He paused. “I needed more.”