by Robyn Carr
“She is nothing to me! Cease your accusations! I’ll not answer to them!”
She clenched her fists in utter rage, her eyes clamped shut and her mouth forming a straight, tight line. “What am I to you, my lord?” she asked evenly. “Am I servant? Housekeeper? Ornament to add to your collection? Am I even friend?”
“You are my wife!”
“Am I? Upon God’s own Word, am I even that? Nay! I am guest in this house and one of little importance. I’ve seen you treat the animals in your stable with more consideration than you do me!” She walked closer to him and looked up into those brooding gray eyes bravely, heedless of her own tears. “Nay, Chad. I’ll warm your meals and wait upon your pleasure, I’ll see your rooms in order and keep the staff at your disposal. I’ll play the mistress for you if you will it, but I’ll not grovel before your whore. You may use me, my lord, but not to that end. I said my vows before God and will heed them true, but I think this is too much to ask of any wife, however unimportant.”
He looked down at her in wonder, this being the first time her temper was turned to him. He had watched her with Shayburn but hadn’t put much stock in it. He wouldn’t have expected his mild-mannered wife to behave this boldly.
“A proud vixen,” he muttered.
“Aye,” she said. “Your purse allows me treasures aplenty and comforts I might never have known, but all I have to soothe my injury is my pride and whatever dignity I will fight for. When you have stripped me of even that...I will be gone.”
“I would not have guessed that under your gentle cover there was such courage and conviction. Tell me,” he said, lifting a curl from her shoulder. “What is it you’re fighting for here?”
“My feelings are not secret to you. I’ll not ply you now with words of love. In truth, I am beginning to wonder myself what I am fighting for.”
“Then find your cause lest you know no reason for victory or defeat. Come now, we dine soon.”
“No, lord. I’ll not play the hostess.”
“It is within my right by law to beat you.”
She gnashed her teeth and turned from him, walking to her cupboard in which her riding crop was stored. She returned to him and offered that as a weapon. “Shall I bare my back, my lord?” she ground out, her eyes glistening with determination.
“You do not do battle in any small way, my lady,” he said softly, taking strange pleasure in her action. “Would you truly be driven to lashings to prove a point?”
“Aye, my lord, even that. It is the part of the servant to take thrashings and I am not more than that in your eyes. Yet even a servant, I think, must maintain a measure of self-worth.”
“More countess than servant, I think.” He reached out and touched her cheek but she stepped back and would not allow his gentleness. He laughed softly. “And though it is not that yet, in time my lady Graystone will have to learn to wait upon your pleasure. ‘Twould be a good lesson for her. You have my leave to stay in your rooms. I will see to her comfort.”
“I’m certain that you will,” she bit out icily.
Again he laughed, amused and no longer angry. “Jealousy does you well, Chelynne. I hadn’t thought I was that important to you.”
Hatred welled up in her at the sound of his mocking tone and she lifted a small statue from her table to hurl at him. He ducked the piece easily and his laughter filled the room. “I think I should warn Lady Graystone as well, that you are not so gentle natured as she thinks. Indeed, I think the good lady is in mortal danger.”
With a last laugh he was gone and she threw herself on her bed and had a most fitting tantrum. It suited her age far better than the words spoken earlier.
Stella was accustomed to spoiling her young ward, giving in to her rages and seeking to please her with any conceivable means. But now, in this situation, Stella could do nothing. The tantrum blended into tears and sobs that shook her young body until she slept.
In all good time she awoke and regained a bit of her composure. She allowed Stella to help her out of her dress to don a more comfortable dressing gown. A small draught of something was brought to settle her nerves and she consented to receive a meal. She stood at her window and stared out over the Hawthorne lands as a serving maid prepared her table. With a deep sigh she turned to attend her lonely meal and saw that the table had been appointed for two. A tear came to her eye and traced its way slowly down her cheek.
“Take the other dishes away,” she pleaded softly. “I dine alone.”
“But my lady,” the girl argued. “My lord bade me attend you and call him when you’re ready.”
“Where is he?” she asked in surprise.
The girl simply pointed to the sitting room door and Chelynne stared at it, disbelieving, and then opened it. Chad sat at a table in that room and appeared to be writing, but at the sound of the opening door he stopped, looked in her direction, and smiled.
“Are you ready to sup, my love?”
She nodded dumbly and he rose to come to her. He, too, was comfortably attired in a dressing gown, black velvet breeches underneath.
“Where is Lady Graystone?” she asked in confusion.
“She dines alone.” He shrugged. “She has a hellish nature. It will do her good.”
She smothered a giggle. “The word will be out that we’re not fit company.”
“I don’t think so, Chelynne. Gwen wouldn’t let it get out that I dined with my wife and left her to eat alone. The word will be very different, so prepare yourself.”
“She would lie?”
Chad laughed. “Chelynne, you’re going to be miserable if you carry on with this blind trust you have in everyone you meet. Of course she would lie. She would lie, cheat, steal, do whatever she has to do to see things her way.”
“What excuse did you give?”
“I gave her none. She deserved none.”
“You’re most gallant, my lord, to help me pass away this lonely time when one so eager awaits your pleasure.”
Chad frowned, not knowing if this was her naïveté speaking or if under that simple cover there was a sharp and quick cynicism. “Not gallant, my dear. You are mine by law and I am responsible for you. I told you well and honestly that you would not find handsome husbandly qualities in me, but I promised you your due.”
“You’re overkind,” she murmured somberly, thinking she had never been told more plainly that she was an obligation neither loved nor desired.
As he held her chair for her he spoke matter-of-factly. “Because I take my obligations seriously makes me neither kind nor cruel, Chelynne. And never will I allow such a temper in my presence again. Were it not for the fact that your anger was justified and you were within rights to assume the worst of Gwen and me, I would never have allowed your rage. You might wish to remember that.”
“Husband mine,” she sighed. “You go to such trouble to make me wary of my life with you. I wonder why.”
He seated himself across from her and raised his glass. “I wonder myself, Chelynne.”
He would have expected to see those brown eyes fill with tears again but when he looked at her he saw a faint smile. “Methinks to find that servant’s garb and steal a fine horse. I might yet find the merits to being a mistress instead of a wife.”
He raised an eyebrow in question. Good God, she was reaching a point inside him where he actually wondered about her, wondered what she thought and felt. Women didn’t usually affect him in that way. And their emotions were a burden to him, not a curiosity.
“The house in London, Chad,” she began. “What is it like?”
“It’s nothing so large as this, nor so fine as the earl’s home in the city, but it is mine and it will do. Functional for my purposes at least. If the earl is able to travel to London he will occupy his own lodgings and we will stay at my home.”
“Two fine homes in one family? Isn’t that odd?”
“My major concern before my father called me home was shipping. It brought me to London regularly and I fin
ally decided to buy the house a friend was selling. It is closer to the merchant populace than noble, but in every way a fine aristocratic home. I happen to prefer it.”
“When do you suppose we’ll go?”
“That depends on the weather and the earl. A month, maybe more; I can’t say. I’ve a great deal that needs my attention there and I can’t wait very much longer to go.
“Playing the country gentleman is not my rote, Chelynne. I am a businessman and have several ships to my credit. It started with privateering and is a great deal more than that now. It is a legitimate merchanting operation. However bound I am to the court and Bryant, my businesses will be my major concern. That, you see, is something I made for myself...without anyone’s help.”
“And will you sail?” she asked hesitantly.
“Not in the immediate future, but that may become necessary. I have a plantation in Jamaica and land in Virginia. I plan to operate from here for as long as I can, but I may have to go to Jamaica...time will tell. It would suit me fine to have no ties here.”
She had placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward, listening to his every word. It was in fact the first time he had told her anything about himself. “Virginia,” she mused aloud. “In the Americas...”
“The most magnificent wilderness ever to behold. A noble that I met nearly twenty years ago moved his family there. I planned a visit and a cargo or two of tobacco, but I stayed for a few months, and it was never tiresome for a moment.”
“Years ago?” He seemed ageless to her. He was seventeen years older than she, but he had done so much living. In the last twenty years he had lived more than many men did in an entire lifetime.
“That was only four years ago. I met Lord Sutherland at the Hague and he chose a plantation in Virginia for his family rather than begging back his lands from the king.
“The plantations there are sophisticated in some areas, yet not far beyond every man’s boundary there are hundreds of miles of untouched wilderness. Tribes of savages inhabit most of the country. I swear that a man could wander to his death.” He laughed softly. “Perhaps it’s a blessing I’m bound to this. It could be extremely dangerous.”
“What is the danger?”
“Primarily the Indians. They run naked through the wood, quiet as air. It is said there are as many different tribes as there are trees in the forest. And their customs vary as well. Some pray to the sun and eat only grass and leaves while there are others who cut the flesh off a man before he’s even dead and have him for dinner.”
The excitement mounted and rose in his voice until he stopped to see Chelynne leaning back in her chair, swallowing hard and taking on a rather odd pallor. “Madam,” he laughed. “Methinks England more your style.”
“I’m a coward,” she confessed. “But it sounds grand.”
“They haven’t the advantages we have with sale and barter. There are many things that must be brought from England and the wait is a long one. They live in some mighty meager shelters while their homes are being built. But once you’ve known the thrill of seeing something made with your own wit and devices it’s hard to think of living any other way. Why, any man—”
He stopped as he noticed a faint smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. He looked at her empty dish and his nearly full plate. She had listened attentively, genuinely interested in every word. But he had been led into a conversation on a topic he had been pleased to discuss. The mood had been passable if not unpleasant and she had changed it without his even realizing it until now.
“I think I would love it there,” she said thoughtfully. “So fresh and new. I think it would be better to start your own traditions, rather than to live your life for ancestors dead a thousand years.”
“Oh, they’ve a fondness for their heritage, perhaps more so than we, but they’re far enough removed from it all to give them some peace. Here we’re constantly bound to it, afflicted with it. The court, the state...”
“But you’re so often at business, so determined...I would have thought you loved that part of it.”
“Love it? Hardly. I’d leave it in an instant, but I cannot. There is no other in the family to take the earldom and if I did not, it could fall to some meager-witted bumpkin or a devil the likes of Shayburn. No, I don’t love it, but it must be preserved. For the Hawthornes and for England.”
She watched him adoringly as he talked. It was the first time he had really talked to her. And it did not stop. He told her about his plantation, about his land and ships, about the overseer who was managing things for him and about all the servants he had left there. Then came the ports he had visited and the battles fought. He was candid about his feelings toward the court, disliking intensely the inane games they called diversion. He could be coerced into throwing the dice now and then, but he found little pleasure in going to the theater every day and drinking himself into oblivion. For him there was more contentment in business dealings and men’s games that involved skill and vigor, such as hunting and yachting.
She was seeing here a depth of character she wondered if he would ever let her probe, touch. And his strength and confidence could be the pillar she could lean on if they ever reached a point where they could share and build together. But everything he had acquired now was being maintained. His habits and way of life were set. There was only the possibility that she could slip into his world, fit into his pattern; but he could never fit hers.
When she smothered yet another yawn at the end of a long and happy evening, he suggested it was time she prepare for bed. She hated to see it end, but called Tanya and Stella to prepare her anyway. It was not unusual to have him stay while she made ready, but when he lingered long after she had slipped into bed it struck her as odd. When he started to remove his coat as if he would slide in beside her she almost gasped with astonishment. As if remembering something, he halted himself, blew out the candles, and continued undressing.
He chuckled lightly, almost apologetically, as he climbed into bed. “That loose-lipped servant who reports my every move to Gwen will inform her that I slept the night with my wife.”
“What servant is this?” she asked, sitting up in surprise.
“Would that I knew,” he muttered, settling himself deeper in the bed. “The fact is that whoever, the story is startlingly accurate. I prefer my private life to be my own and not the issue of some wagging tongue.”
Chad seemed at ease in the same bed with her. His breathing, smooth and even, indicated that he found sleep easily. For Chelynne it was not so simple. His totally, alarmingly naked state brought a combination of excitement and unease. She was a long time in falling asleep.
Sometime deep in the night a slow smile grew on Chad’s lips. He felt Anne as she pressed close to him. His soul was flooded with contentment, peace. He pulled her nearer, covered her sweet body with kisses, whispered love words and gently titillated her with caresses. His brow beaded with sweat as he noticed a deep and gaping hole somewhere behind them. It beckoned her, called her name. He held her to him, trying to love her, but she was being pulled away. He pleaded with her, told her how much he needed her, how he loved her beyond his own life, how their son needed her. But she shook her head sadly and withdrew slowly from him. He clutched at her frantically but his usually strong hands were limp and lifeless. He urged his whole body, hold her, he commanded himself, but he was useless. She moved into the open ground and the dirt slammed together over her like a door, sealing her off from him.
A scream formed in his subconscious and his eyes popped open. The canopy of the bed was above him, the breeze billowing out the draperies in the large bedchamber. Only a dream, a foolish dream, but the body of his wife was too real. His eyes moved to Chelynne, sighing in her slumber and moving trustingly close to share the warmth of his body. His hands were on her hips, drawing her near, and her soft limbs were thrown casually over his. His first reaction was to throw her away from him, so bitter was his resentment that she would even dare occupy this place
beside him, this place that rightfully belonged to Anne.
But he was aware of the security of her sleep, the innocence of her presence in this bed, and he moaned softly as he drew her near to warm her. A slow unconscious tear traced its way down his cheek and dropped unheeded onto her hair. The ache in his heart slowly and haltingly gave way to slumber.
Three days after her arrival, Chelynne was informed that Lady Graystone was preparing to leave. Chelynne had avoided contact with her. While she wondered painfully if Chad was seeing Gwen, she never asked. For herself, she had some pride and would not stand witness to the woman’s seduction of her husband. She had no hope of changing either of them or preventing them from doing what they would, but she would not encourage the affair by being complacent about it. She was angry and hurt and did nothing to hide it.
But there was a social responsibility bred into Chelynne that would not cease nagging her conscience, and she finally made her way to the landing when the coach was ready to take Gwen away. Gwen flounced down the stairs, making her way quickly to the door, but stopped short when she saw Chelynne. Her green eyes sparkled with hatred as she looked over the young bride Chad had claimed.
“Have a safe journey, my lady,” Chelynne said softly.
“My thanks for your warm hospitality,” Gwen bit out icily.
“I’m sorry it couldn’t have been more pleasant for all of us, my lady,” Chelynne replied with calm dignity. “If you would pay us a visit again perhaps we can share our common interests.”
Gwen laughed. “It seems to me we have only one common interest, my dear. I strongly doubt the day will ever come when we can share that.”
Chelynne lowered her eyes. She refused to give in to anger in front of this woman and could think of no polite response to this brazen statement.
“You’re young, Chelynne,” Gwen was saying. “You’ve a great deal to learn of this world. Whitehall will surely be your doom if you react to every innocent indiscretion with such candor.”