by Robyn Carr
Jocelyn walked a short distance with her brothers and sister in the direction of her old home. The other mourners had disbanded into small groups that seemed to want to linger and stare. But each offended person kept his or her disapproval cautious and gave distance to the Cutlers. Before entering his coach, Trent paused to meet eyes with anyone looking his way. With all their purity, not one of them had a better life, by any definition.
The coach was not too far from where Jocelyn spoke to the children, but Trent did not see the approach of the Dearborn guard. He was aware of them only after Stephen Kerr had dismounted and walked toward the grieving children. The conflict arose so swiftly that Trent barely had time to react.
Stephen Kerr spoke to Peter, and when he moved a hand as if he would touch the lad, Jocelyn popped in front of her brother to shield him. From across the way, Cross began to take long strides in their direction, and Trent bolted out of his coach and was upon them instantly. He heard Jocelyn’s voice rising in angry protest as he neared.
“You’ll not lay hand to this boy again and live out the day,” she shouted hotly. “By all that’s holy, I will see you killed by my own hand, with my own dagger. You, you who could take due credit for my father’s early death, will not dare to trouble my family further.”
Trent was within the group and at Jocelyn’s side, and Cross was nearby, keeping a decent distance but ready if needed. Neither attempted to still her or speak for her but stood calmly near her, ready to act only if she could not act for herself. But Stephen Kerr did not address Jocelyn any longer. With Wescott present, his attention went to him. “I only seek to allay the boy’s worry. This sorry farm wants better work...and the young Cutler can farm for me, draw an allotment, and pay no additional tax for owning property.”
“He does not want your management,” Wescott said sternly.
“Let him speak for himself,” Kerr demanded.
“He need not pass words with you, Kerr,” Trent growled. “Get out of here.”
“I think you’re confused, my lord. This is my land and these are my people. ‘Tis I who would order you away.”
“Oh?” Trent questioned idly. “Is my lord of Dearborn also deceased?”
Stephen’s face reddened. He turned as if to leave and Trent called to his back, “My lady speaks true, Kerr. If you trouble this family again, you will answer to my sword.”
“Your lady?” he sneered, turning. “This whore?” He spit into the dust before Jocelyn’s feet. “You make me laugh.”
Trent took a giant step toward Stephen and would have killed him on the spot but for the slight, black-sleeved arm that met his chest. “Please,” she said quietly. “We’ve had enough grief today.” Her other hand rose meekly to her stomach and he stopped himself, allowing Stephen Kerr to mount without further assault. Before the riders turned to leave the town, Trent met with the eye of Matthew and they exchanged a glance that was filled with meaning.
“Come,” Jocelyn urged. “These young ones need to be resting and I am in want of some peace as well.”
Trent looked pointedly at Peter. “I was young when my parents died,” he said directly. “I thought to carry the burden as a man, but found the load a heavy one. Braeswood is your home, if you desire. I encourage you to be wise as well as strong and not subject these tender youths to Stephen Kerr’s abuse. If not today, in a week or a month or even a year, my offer remains sound.”
Peter gave a nod and a short bow. “Many thanks, milord.”
Trent took Jocelyn away as quickly as he could. There were no more tears, but the quiet oppression of her mood was heavy enough to weigh down upon him without relief. When he saw her comfortable in her rooms after having eaten, he wondered that she did not easily put aside her silent agony and speak to him. He called for another potion from Enid to relax and protect her, but the old woman simply shook her head. “Milord, ‘tis not a thing I can remedy with a spice or root. The lass has buried her father. Her grief must be spent on this.” Then she patted his hand and left him to the helplessness he felt.
The evening dragged and he was stunned by the pain he felt when looking upon her downcast eyes and slumped frame. He wished she would cry or shriek, but her quiet depression shook him worse than her angriest moment. He finally sat on the edge of her bed and begged for mercy.
“Jocelyn, I fear for the fitness of our child. Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?”
She smiled weakly and placed his hand on the round bulge. The child moved energetically within. “Your son is safe and well, Trent. I will heal in time.”
“I can go to the village tomorrow and insist the children return with me,” he offered.
“Let them be, love. If they need us, they will come.”
“Then name the thing that will ease your mind,” he demanded.
“You have given me so much without my asking, I could barely think of a thing before you have brought it swiftly to my feet. Please, worry not.”
“Anything,” he said desperately.
“There is a matter...” she began.
“Name it.”
“I think it little enough to ask of you.”
“Name it. Please.”
She paused and looked down at his hand, touching it softly and stroking the lean, tanned fingers. “Should I fail to deliver this child safely, Trent, I would have you bury me beside my parents in Bowens Ash. My father will no doubt rise up in outrage, but my mother, I think, will accept my remains graciously.”
“Jocelyn. What is this nonsense? Are you so afraid of childbirth?”
“I have not been afraid, Trent. But lest the worst befalls me, will you see me to rest there?”
“This is absurd,” he argued. “I won’t allow any problems.”
“I don’t expect you can control that. If you could control even my health in my lying-in, I would not have to make this request. But perhaps this once, your strength and power will be of little use.”
“No, Jocelyn, no. This is lunacy. You are strong and fit. The child will be safely born. My son.”
“I suspect you are right,” she relented, trying to smile for him to give him comfort. “But whatever comes to pass, you have heard my desires. I will leave the matter in your hands.”
“Jocelyn, if you are afraid, you may cause problems that otherwise would not hamper us.”
“Trent, hear me. I am not afraid. I am strong and will labor with this child with the best intention. But my mother was strong yet died giving birth. Our midwife was good and the baby healthy. This happens with women sometimes. It is not so rare among the rich, my lord. That should tell you that money will never ensure a safe birth. Now let us leave it, and pray that God sees us deserving of a fruitful delivery.”
He struggled for a moment with his response but felt himself vulnerable and without an answer for her. He finally leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “I will leave you once more, and for a short time. Thence, I shall be at your side. And if your will cannot bring us a healthy child and mother, then our combined wills shall. I will not give you up.
“Now sleep and speak no more of burials and wakes. I cannot bear the strain. There has been too much of this trouble.”
FIFTEEN
Within Julian Kerr’s London household there was a variety of tension from different sources. Adrienne was mostly recovered from her heartsick depression with the impetus of gaining Dearborn as her dowry. But she had little confidence in her uncle’s ability to trick Trent Wescott into marriage. If he had an eye for the land and did not find marriage to her too distasteful a prospect, there was a small chance.
Julian had warned her that it took better than a month to gain the king’s ear. When he plied his case before this royal judge, he was forced to put very little emphasis on Adrienne’s lost virtue. There were no witnesses—not one person could attest to Trent Wescott having lain with the girl. Should he choose to deny it, there would be no way to force him to confess it.
Julian approached King Charles with
a proposal based on his grief over past events, his eagerness to make restitution, and his willingness to disinherit his son in favor of Wescott, if he would accept Adrienne as a bride. He simply let the matter of her defilement remain a very minor issue. “He cannot be thought to loathe the idea too completely, Your Majesty,” Julian said, “since he has already made his affection for Adrienne known. She can no longer be offered honestly in marriage to another man.”
“I see,” Charles said with a cynical smile. “Have you approached Wescott with your offer?”
“No, Your Highness. He will not discuss any matter relating to civil war with me. And he is most resistant to any terms of friendship between our families.”
“All a bit understandable, isn’t it, my lord?”
“Indeed, Sire. But if you would make the suggestion, I think he would give it fair consideration. The result would certainly be an improvement over our long feud. I am so weary of fighting.”
Charles glowered, an expression rarely seen on the king’s face. Charles was more than aware that Julian had never battled. He had paid those sums he was forced to pay if unwilling to produce arms, but he had done no battle. “As we all are, my lord.”
“Will you help me, Sire?” he pleaded. “I have many nights in which sleep does not come easy for me. I have not profited nearly so much as many would think. I can no longer nurture a hatred for my lord of Braeswood, but I have a niece in want of a good husband and a rich dowry. In memory of her departed family, I would see her cared for. And in remittance to Wescott, I would see him profit by the marriage.”
Charles considered the humbled and weakened lord with a curious stride. Then finally he rose and excused him. “Go on, Julian. I will ask Wescott to a conference at Whitehall and you may make your offer.”
“I? But Sire, I thought you—”
“You thought I would face him alone?” The king laughed heartily. “No, this is your conspiracy. I will set the table for you, and you may bid him eat of it.”
Julian stood flustered for a moment. “But Sire, if I’m to face him without your influence, why would you attend the meeting?”
Charles smiled. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything, my lord. I have a keen sense for the unexpected, yet this is a turn I would never have foreseen. I want to see the look on Wescott’s face when you make this proposal.”
It was not lost on Julian that the king was fully amused with this situation and intended to exert no pressure on Wescott to accept the contract. “Without your influence, Your Majesty, I feel certain that Lord Wescott will not be moved to accept. He has already made clear his animosity toward my family.”
“Withdraw your offer then,” Charles replied with cool detachment.
“No,” Julian said resolutely. “I have to see the matter through. I cannot in good faith leave my niece in dire straits and my land uncared for in the event he does not come to terms. However unlikely, I must make the offer.”
“I thought you had a son, Julian,” Charles said, a slight note of pity in his voice.
Julian looked down rather somberly. “So had I, Your Majesty. So had I.”
When he shared the news with Adrienne, she assumed as he did that Trent Wescott would not very likely be a victim to this plan. Julian had feared setting her off with the information, but she seemed to take it in with a new maturity. “We can only hope that he will be interested enough in the property and Stephen’s removal to accept. Marriage is certainly the only way he will have Dearborn. If he plans a siege, the king will have him banished forever.”
Julian looked at her closely. Some of the sparkle was back, but she was not the flighty lass that a few weeks earlier had been sneaking, spying, and weaving schemes. She seemed somewhat refined by all she’d been through.
“I can hardly believe you’re not yet five-and-ten years, my dear. You’ve grown through your pain.”
“You may be right, Uncle. But I’ll call you wrong on one matter. I shan’t feel heartbreak again and again. I will never again succumb to a man who will not be made responsible for his deed. I have never known such shame as to be at the wrong end of such a lie.”
“Well, if Wescott will be held accountable, I trust you’ll never have a chance. He is a selfish man and holds his property dear. If you were unfaithful, I believe he would kill you.”
Adrienne looked about her uncle’s study distractedly. Her eyes began to glisten and she twisted her hands in her lap, not letting a word slip to betray her innermost thoughts. “Yes, Uncle. I trust he would.”
Julian gave her a moment to firm up her resolve before going on with more business. He hoped he did not do the girl wrong in giving her to Wescott. He hoped the man would prize her, as well he should. But whatever the outcome, Adrienne had begun this alliance, and she would have to see it through.
“There is a sound chance he will refuse and leave us few alternatives,” he said.
“I know,” she replied with unusual calm.
“In that event, I will have you remain here in London, with the servants to keep you chaperoned, until a suitable groom is found.”
“Here? But—”
“Do you think Stephen will leave quietly? Dearborn will not welcome us with the same open arms we have known in the past. It would be most unwise for you to be subject to his anger.”
“But Uncle Julian, will he not come straightaway to London to make me the brunt of his wickedness?”
“Possibly,” Julian said thoughtfully. And then more quietly, “It is better to hope that the long ride cools his temper than to have you sitting prey before his quick fist.” He took a deep breath. “I hope he does not behave too foolishly. In any event, I will leave you well fixed. And if we are very lucky, you will be kept safe at Braeswood until the worst of the storm is past.”
Adrienne looked down into her lap as if she doubted the plan would work. But she steadfastly held to the hope that Wescott was ambitious enough a man to covet Dearborn and therefore more money and power.
“We have never discussed the source of our problems, Wescott’s and mine.” She opened her mouth as if to protest that statement, but he quickly quieted her with a raised hand. “I know you think you understand it. Truthfully, there is more to the story than I have allowed. In deference to my son and his future, I elected to keep the matter quiet and did not encourage the gossips babbling with more details. I did not suffer much with that burden.” He shrugged. “I was spared and allowed my house. Now I find my good fortune to be the source of my misery, Adrienne. My son does not appreciate my efforts to protect him, and I am almost void of means to undo this tangled web.”
“Well, if it did not happen the way we’ve all been led to believe, then tell me—what more?”
“I know I am a selfish man, dear. But the truth is that treason and murder do not come so naturally to me as the world would believe. No, I won’t tell you more than that now. But since we’ve come together, you and I, through these troubles we’ve shared, I’ve come to trust you to some degree. I would beg your good faith and confidence in one more thing.”
“What is it, Uncle Julian?” she asked anxiously.
“I have written a document that was witnessed by my physician and lies sleeping in this desk. It explains in full my actions in the war, my reasons for standing responsible for the deaths of the Wescott men, and my desires for the future of my title and land. Should anything unexpected happen to me, I would have you produce the paper and take it to any person of authority who would help you.” He paused and looked down in considerable discomfort. “You must find a person who is not an ally of mine. In fact, my staunchest enemy would prove your closest friend.”
“I don’t understand. I—”
“You won’t have trouble discovering it, but I would not make the matter of public interest while I am still alive and able to rectify some of my past mistakes. I have been a foolish man in some cases, but I still have some pride.”
“What do you fear? Do you fear that Stephen—”
/> He interrupted her with a forced laugh that was nearly hysterical, as if he were trying to cover up his authentic fear. “Now child, you know my health is not the best. I expect a few more years, but stronger men than I have been cut short.” He grew serious again. “I simply want you to know how to help yourself, Adrienne. Do you understand?”
She nodded obediently, but a frown of confusion marked her brow. “Good, then. We’d hope for good tidings from the meeting with Wescott, and barring that, we’d move on to the next available option. I think we have little to fear. You are a beautiful woman and your estate is rich.”
Again she nodded, looking with deep concern at her uncle.
“Go on,” he urged. “Go on and do your primping and let me work in peace.”
She rose and touched his hand in warm communication and then turned to leave the room.
“Adrienne?” She turned back to him and found a sad look of remorse on his face. “I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. But I am grateful for these cherished days of affection we’ve had. I would have you know that I don’t resent my responsibility to you. I am pleased to have been your guardian—and friend.”
She touched her lips lightly to her fingers and waved them at him, smiling with understanding. Then she left him to his work, and his grievous memories.
Jocelyn indulged her depression for only a day and then slowly and steadily regained her good nature. But oddly, the melancholy mood was taken on by Trent. First he was quiet and preoccupied, then sleepless, then as temperamental as any bear. Jocelyn witnessed his disjointed nights, for her own sleep was often interrupted by the baby’s kicking, and she found he was up and pacing when she rose.
There was a certain gloom and worry marking his eyes, and he had developed a new habit of watching her from a distance with a strangely forlorn look on his face. Once, when she was struggling with the fastenings on her gown, she looked up to see him standing in the door frame watching her across the room. She smiled and walked over to him instantly. “My lord, would you please...” she said, presenting her back for aid. It took him several long seconds to comprehend, and she had to repeat her request. “Your mind is somewhere else,” she teased. He touched her nose and replied, “No, love, it is right here.” And then he left her as silently as he’d come.