“Walk? Papa, do not joke with me, please!”
He laughed. “But no, I do not. You shall see!”
She looked at him and noticed for the first time that he no longer looked as thin and worn as he had in the past two years. His face had filled out, and there was a certain vitality she had not seen in him for a long time. What had she been doing that she had not noticed it? Hope rose within her, and her mouth became suddenly dry. Could it be … ? No, really, he could not have recovered fully, she shouldn’t think it. And yet, here he was in the coach, and saying he would walk down the church aisle with her.
“I … I suppose we shall see,” was all that she could reply.
The coach ride was short, and they soon came to the church steps. A footman opened the carriage door, and slowly Mr. Seton stepped down, holding the footman’s arm firmly, then grasping the cane held out to him. Stepped down! Eveline pressed her fingers tightly against her lips to keep them from trembling. She put her hand out to him and he grasped it.
“Papa! I … How …”
He grinned at her. “Surprised you, eh? I have been trying to walk for a long time, but never did tell you—Dr. Stanton disapproved, you see, and I did not want to make you anxious. Then my foot moved, and I knew I was doing the right thing! So I have been practicing with Charles here.” He nodded to the footman, who broke out in a wide smile. “And thought to surprise you one day.”
“Well, you certainly did!” A surge of joy flooded Eveline’s heart as she looked up at her father. She found herself smiling at him, and descended from the carriage, taking his arm as they walked up the church steps. Mr. Seton’s steps were unsteady and halting, but he leaned more on his cane than on his daughter’s arm.
Richard looked up when the door opened, and his breath stopped in midinhalation. The sun beamed down through the windows of the church, and as Eveline entered, she was bathed in its light. It was no earthly woman who walked slowly toward him upon her father’s arm, but a fairy, an angel, a queen. As she came closer, the sun filtered through the misty veil, and her face looked as if it were alight from within. There was joy in her eyes, and Richard’s heart rose with hope, hope that the joy was because of him.
Perhaps it was; the joy did not change when she looked upon him, but there was also doubt when she released her father’s arm and came to Richard’s side. He suddenly noticed her father, that he was not in a Bath chair, and his eyebrows rose as he bowed respectfully to Mr. Seton, who merely bowed and smiled in return. Richard looked a question at Eveline, but she shook her head, her smile growing wider, dissipating the doubt he had seen in her eyes. He was happy for her, but his hope died. No doubt her joy had been because of her father’s recovery, not because she was to wed and become Lady Clairmond.
With an effort, Richard brought his gaze to the vicar, and the ceremony began. The words rolled over him, and he responded in a firm voice, and he was not sure how, but it was over before he realized it. He looked at Eveline, and she smiled shyly at him. He raised her veil, drew her toward him, and kissed her gently.
Eveline trembled in his arms, for the kiss was warm and inviting, and she almost forgot herself in her wish to have it last longer. He had looked upon her with such hope as she came up the aisle. What was it that he hoped? She could not tell. She had wished to reassure him nevertheless. He looked so impeccably handsome—and calm. She, certainly, was not calm at all.
Turning toward the congregation, she saw their smiling faces. The church suddenly came into sharp focus, and, startled, she glanced at Richard, and then at the congregation again. Oh, heavens, she was married! She remembered the clergyman saying the words, and that she had replied, but it was as if she had done so in a dream. An odd bubbling urge to laugh came to her, and she swallowed. She took a deep breath and put her hand upon his sleeve.
She accepted the congratulations in a daze, glad of the support of Richard’s arm, for her knees felt weak and her mind bewildered. Eveline knew she smiled and chatted with the guests, but for all she knew she could have spouted inanities. She was married! She looked at her new husband, and suddenly he seemed a stranger. What did she know of him, after all? She had known him but two months, had been betrothed for only one of those two months—a short betrothal, in truth; most of the betrothals of her friends had been at least a year. It was an odd thing: Two weeks into their acquaintance, and she had felt she had known him down to his heart. Now, two months had passed, and she believed she did not know him at all. And now … now she was married to him and must live with him in a place she had never been.
Richard led her to the carriage, helped her up into it, then climbed in himself. She sat and folded her hands in her lap, then found she was wringing them, twisting the ring upon her finger. Quickly, she pressed her hands into her lap.
A warm hand covered hers, and she looked up at Richard. She smiled a nervous smile at him. He raised his brows in question.
“It is a foolish thing, my lord—”
“Richard.” He smiled at her. “We are married now, and it has been an age since we agreed to use our Christian names.”
“Yes. Richard.” Eveline cleared her throat and looked down at her lap. “Richard, I am … a little afraid.”
He lifted her hand and pressed it between his own. “I, too.”
“You?”
“Oh, yes. I have many fears; I wonder if you will despise my home, if you will miss your life in Bath, for instance. I cannot support you in the style to which you are accustomed, you know.”
“Well, I can make do and become used to it, I am sure.”
Richard pressed his lips together as if suppressing a grimace and looked away. “You have not seen my home. It is large, to be sure, larger than the house in which you have been living. But half of it is in extreme disrepair, and the rest is drafty. The grounds are ill-kept, half wild with brambles. And my tenants …” His expression hardened and pain flickered over his face. “Well, you shall see.”
“It cannot be so bad that—” But then the carriage stopped, and they had arrived at her house—her father’s house now. They descended from the carriage, and as they entered, Eveline glanced at Richard. He had a resolute expression on his face, and she dismissed her fears from her mind. She would deal with them as they came; it was not time to think of possible troubles now.
Marianne, Richard’s sister, was the first to greet them, having left the church as soon as the ceremony ended, so as to be part of the welcoming party. Eveline was glad of Marianne’s presence, for her eyes lighted up when she saw Eveline, and extended her hands in welcome.
“It will be lovely to have you for a sister, Eveline! Oh, I knew you were just the sort of wife for Richard, and I told Wyvern so after our luncheon, did I not?” Marianne turned, smiling, to the tall man beside her.
“Indeed, you did!” He seemed to transfer his gaze from Marianne to Eveline with an effort. He smiled at Eveline and bowed over her hand. “Please accept my congratulations, Lady Clairmond.”
“Thank you.” Eveline felt Richard’s arm stiffen under her hand. She glanced up at him. He smiled cordially, but his eyes were cool as they gazed at Wyvern. Here was another mystery; she had seen this before at the luncheon, this animosity between the two. It puzzled her, for Marianne was allowed to call Wyvern friend, and yet Richard clearly did not like him. If Richard knew of something that did not do Wyvern credit, should he not have told it to his sister? And yet, it seemed he had not, for Marianne clearly did not think ill of the earl at all.
The earl bowed briefly to Richard. “And to you, as well, Clairmond.”
Richard inclined his head slightly, still smiling. “Thank you.” Eveline glanced at Marianne, who looked from Richard to Wyvern with a puzzled expression on her face. It seemed she did not know what to think of their behavior, either. Eveline reflected that she had been extremely naive to think it possible to know much of people at all. Ever since she had met Richard, she was seeing that it took more than a few conversations to assess a pe
rson properly—at least in society. Business was quite different than ton ways.
The wedding feast was all that Eveline had planned, but it, too, passed quickly for her. There was an abundance of guests; it seemed to her that they passed in a blur. She could remember Sir John Grey and his sister, Lavinia, of course; the Earl and Countess of Rothwick, who were newly married themselves; Mr. Hobart and Mr. Demming, two of Richard’s particular friends. The health of the bride and groom was drunk, speeches were made that caused Eveline to blush, and then, suddenly, it was done. Toward the end, she finally felt less nervous, less unlike herself. Perhaps it was the company of friends. More likely it was the combination of champagne and sheer tiredness, she thought, smiling wryly.
A hand touched her shoulder lightly, and Eveline turned to see Richard smiling down at her.
“Shall we go?”
A sudden fluttering of her stomach made her draw in a breath, but she released it quickly. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She smiled nervously at him and took his hand.
They climbed into the coach again, now one for traveling and piled with trunks of clothes on the top. Again they were in a carriage, again private, but this time Eveline did not voice her fears, but chatted of inconsequential things. The time was past for that; as she looked upon Richard’s tired face, she decided that she would keep her thoughts to herself for a while. Perhaps she would not mention them at all. From the way Richard pressed his hands to his eyes when he thought she was not looking, he had more than enough to think about without her own small worries burdening him.
A bit of hope rose in her. Perhaps, if it were business matters, she would be able to help him. She had helped her father and had done well—even made considerable profit in the business; there was no reason why she could not do this for Richard as well.
Chapter Thirteen
The carriage passed green hills and flowing brooks on the way to the Clairmond estates, but Richard scarcely noticed. He had seen the scenery before, and all it meant to him at the moment was that they were approaching his home, and that he felt an increasing dread the closer they came. He glanced at Eveline from time to time as they conversed, at her calm face and composed manner, and wondered at what point of their arrival her composure would change. How much would her good manners cover the dismay she would no doubt feel when she saw the state of his house and his lands?
It was an odd emotion for him, he realized suddenly. He had never cared one way or another about people’s thoughts or opinions of him, his family, or his estate. It was enough that he was a Clairmond, landed, with a title and money. He smiled wryly to himself. He was more like his father than he would have liked to admit. The Clairmond name was all that had mattered to his father—well, not all, or else he would not have committed suicide. Richard pushed the thought aside. It was an ache that would be best healed if left alone.
But now he had little money, and that seemed to make a great deal of difference. First, he had not wanted it revealed to his friends, and now, though Eveline must know of it from her father, he did not want her to see how poor she had become in marrying him. It was a stupid wish, for of course she would see it, if not now, then later. He repressed one more sigh that threatened to arise. At least no one could say that he was a fortune-hunter. He had let his solicitors handle the marriage contracts, but was certain Eveline brought no fortune to him. He could not see signs of a great fortune in her family’s style of living, for though they had good taste, they had no excesses clearly manifest in most wealthy merchants he had had the chance to meet.
The carriage rumbled past the gates of his estate, and Richard was sure the neglect was apparent to anyone. The trees in the orchard they passed were full of dead wood and had not been pruned since before he had gone to war, he was sure. No sheep kept down the high grass on the grounds, for he owned few cattle, or even servants to scythe the grass. The gatekeeper’s cottage was old and in need of repair—abandoned, in fact, for he had no gatekeeper.
Then there was Clairmond Hall itself in front of them. It was a large, rambling construction, and would have been an imposing one, if the broken-down condition of the west wing were not clearly visible from the drive. Ivy clambered over a quarter of it, and covered, thankfully, the cracks in the windows Richard was sure were underneath the vines. He glanced at Eveline and was relieved to see her expression was one of interest and curiosity rather than distaste. Perhaps she would not mind it much.
Richard sighed aloud then and castigated himself for a fool. If she did not mind the neglect of the outside of his home, most certainly she would mind the neglect of the inside of it. As they entered the house, Richard looked upon the interior as if with a stranger’s eyes. How had he not noticed when he returned from the Peninsula that the drapes were so faded, and even in spots, worn? How had he not noticed the scuffed rugs and the moldings so badly in need of repair? The full force of the lack of money hit him again, and shame quickly followed.
He did not look at her when he said, “We are home.” He reflected with a wry twist of his lips that it was an inane statement. Of course they were home.
Eveline turned around in a circle, looking her full at the old hall. She drew in her breath and turned to Richard.
“How old is it?” Her voice was full of awe.
He smiled, relieved. “Old.”
She raised one eyebrow and put her hands on her hips.
“Oh, really?”
He laughed. “Yes, really.” He clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the walls and beams of the hall. “If I am not mistaken, this part of the hall was built about forty years before the Conqueror came.”
“Then there have been Clairmonds since that time?”
“No. My ancestor was an upstart Norman baron who obliged William I by razing the Saxon castle to the ground—except for this hall, of course. Then he built his own house around it.”
Eveline shook her head and smiled. “One would have thought he would have kept the castle as it was and built what he wanted onto it.”
“A terrible waste, I agree!” Richard replied. “But perhaps it was not to his taste. His descendants seem to have followed his example—a little less drastically, to be sure. You can see the differences as we go through the house.”
As they turned toward one door of the hall, it opened and Marianne came in, full of smiles and holding out her hands to both of them.
“Oh, I am so sorry I was not here right away to greet you! But Cook had some difficulty down in the kitchens, and I spent more time than I had thought I would helping—that is, solving the problem.” She gave an apologetic look at Richard.
He took her hand and pulled her into a hug. “I see you are becoming quite the housekeeper. And do not worry, Marianne. Eveline can easily see we do not stand on ceremony here.”
Marianne turned to Eveline and pressed her hand in greeting. “I do think you will like your room, Eveline. It is the blue room right next to Richard’s …” Her voice faded off as she blushed furiously.
Eveline felt herself blush also at the thought, but smiled at her sister-in-law. “I am sure I will like it, thank you! The room, that is. The way it is decorated, of course.” Marianne turned more red than before, and Eveline put her hand on her brow and grimaced. “Oh, dear, I am making it worse, am I not?”
“Never mind, Marianne,” Richard said, a tremor of laughter in his voice.
“Oh!” Marianne said, blushing still. She looked at Eveline, and then they both burst out laughing. “Oh, dear. This is not a very good welcome for you, is it? I had hoped we could do it in some style,” she said, wiping the laughter from her eyes, “but I did seem to have botched it.” She pressed her hand to her lips, suppressing another giggle.
“No, no! Not at all,” replied Eveline, and then impulsively hugged Marianne. “I am so glad to have you for a sister-in-law. I had always wished for a sister when I was growing up.”
Marianne blushed again, this time from pleasure at the compliment.
“Per
haps you should show her to her room,” Richard said to his sister. He looked apologetically at Eveline. “There are a few things I need to attend to.”
“Oh, of course.” Eveline looked uncertainly at him, then turned to his sister. Marianne had a surprised expression on her face, but she smiled back and moved to the door, motioning Eveline to follow her.
The room was indeed blue; deep blue drapes were at the window and matched the blue canopy on her bed. The chamber was light and airy, for it had large windows, and pale blue wallpaper with cream stripes and a pink floral pattern. Eveline felt cheered immediately. Though she had thought the outside of Clairmond Hall very distinguished and old—quite romantic, in fact, with all the ivy draped over it—she thought the great hall quite dark and overwhelming. Perhaps it was because of the lack of candles; she would have to see about buying more, if possible. But her room, now! This was quite delightful, not much different than the way she had her own room decorated.
“Do you like it?” came Marianne’s hesitant voice from behind her.
Eveline turned to her and smiled. “Oh, yes! It is very pretty, just the sort of colors I like.”
A relieved smile spread across Marianne’s face. “I am glad! The drapes were faded, but I made sure to wash them properly, and even tried a little dye, too. I have become quite good at supervising the laundry, you know!” The pride suddenly faded, and Marianne looked self-conscious at her words.
Eveline nodded. “I have done that most all my life—my mother died when I was young. So I well know how time-consuming and what a dead bore it is, too!”
“Isn’t it!” Marianne again looked relieved, her smile becoming brighter. “I never knew how much work it was until our housekeeper left two years ago.” The look of relief turned to frustration, and she pressed her lips together, as if to keep herself from saying anything else.
Eveline came to her and pressed Marianne’s hands between her own. “My dear, you need not keep me from knowing what is needed in this household. I am well aware that you and Richard are not as well off as you used to be. If there is anything I can do to help, I would be glad to do so. I have kept house for my father ever since I turned fifteen; this cannot be so different. And knowing is so much better than being in ignorance, is it not?”
The Devil's Bargain Page 15