by Peggy Waide
She thought for a moment, even though they both knew the morning ritual was no more than a game. He chose names of vast origin, and she willingly played along, always giving the names the proper consideration, sometimes testing the names out loud. The entire ploy seemed foolish, ridiculous and childish, and gave him some sort of perverse pleasure.
"That, my lord, is a difficult choice. Shall we try Gunda?"
"Excellent." He took a swallow of coffee. Remembering Agatha's presence, he lifted the flower arrangement off to the side. His grandmother regally sat at the head of the table, sipping her tea. A sprig of bluebells sewn along the collar accented her violet dress, while a small cluster of primroses decorated her hair. "Grandmother, you look delightful."
"Thank you. I feel delightful as well. I adore my suite, but I must admit, even I was beginning to despise those pastel walls."
"I expect you to exercise caution with your activities. Otherwise the happy little cherubs dancing on your walls will welcome you back."
"You sound just like the doctor." Agatha waved a pink napkin in the air. "Briggs, please serve him immediately. With a potato in his mouth, he won't be able to rail at me." Agatha, obviously pleased that food was being placed on the table before him, grinned at his scowl.
"Humpf. I can see all of you have conspired against me." He looked at the plate of steaming food now placed before him, then at Jocelyn. "Once again."
"I see no conspiracy here."
Jocelyn had much too much innocence in her voice to suit him. "Neither did Macbeth," said Reyn, "and look what happened to that poor fellow."
"I believe Macbeth fell prey to his own arrogance."
His wife's familiarity with Shakespeare's works offered a possible clue too great to ignore. Between bites of cheese and ham, Reyn studied Jocelyn. "Have you ever seen an actual production of the play? In London, perhaps?"
Jocelyn shook her head.
"A country performance? A group of wandering minstrels at a country fair?"
"No, I don't believe so."
"So your interest in Shakespeare stems from your education. How very fortunate for you. Most women learn to embroider and serve tea. Who taught you about our esteemed playwright?"
Toying with a yellow buttercup, she said, "I can see an old woman with greying temples, dark eyes and a rather large, hawk-like nose, reading to me."
"Is there a name with that image? An initial? A maidenly grandmother?" He added as an afterthought, "Although I find it difficult to imagine any relative of yours with a hawk-like nose."
Jocelyn heaved her shoulders in resignation. "Alas, no.
"A pity," he murmured. Forcing a smile on his face, he resumed eating.
"Reyn, stop pestering the poor girl."
He tried to look offended. "Agatha, there is no need to tread upon my toes. To pester would mean I was attempting to badger, harass or harangue. I was merely conversing with Jocelyn about her keen intelligence and whence it came." He turned to Jocelyn. "You understand the difference, don't you, Jocelyn?"
"Be assured, my lord, I understand a great many things. Especially about you."
While Agatha swallowed her laugh along with a sip of tea, Reyn wiped his mouth with his napkin. The rattle of pots and pans reminded him they weren't alone. Being a great tactician, he knew when to advance and when to retreat. "In that case, you know that I am a busy man. Briggs, I will retire to my study. Please have more coffee served there." Reyn turned his attention back to the woman as he started to leave the cozy setting. "Thank you for this interesting departure from our routine. I look forward to this evening. Perhaps we can discuss another play by Shakespeare. His characters and plots are so intriguing, with all the twists and turns to ponder." As he left, not waiting for their responses, he had already cataloged the various story lines that might aid his cause.
April welcomed spring with warm days and gentle afternoon showers. Every afternoon during her walks, Jocelyn discovered a flower, a bush, a tree, each with a new bloom to herald the change of seasons. This time of rebirth was a favorite of Jocelyn's. But today, as she sat with Agatha beneath a towering maple, she felt only frustration. She ripped a petal from a yellow daisy. "Why can't he simply leave me alone?"
Agatha cleared her throat. "Patience, my dear. Remember, he had no choice in all this."
"Every day he tries some new tactic to wriggle the truth from me. Now it's Shakespeare. He behaves politely, sometimes to the point of being boring. He hasn't bellowed or lost his temper since his return, and that def initely makes me suspicious. I wish he would simply end his constant probing, whether deliberate or discreet, into my past."
"Regardless of the fact that I threw the two of you together, I know he considers it his responsibility to keep you safe."
"My plan will keep us safe if he would leave well enough alone."
Agatha smiled one of her smiles that seemed to say she understood things that Jocelyn didn't. She patted Jocelyn's hand. "A man like Reyn is not accustomed to leaving unresolved matters in the hands of others. Besides all that, how are the two of you getting on?"
"Remarkably well," Jocelyn said. Considering his subtle attacks and intimate innuendoes, her short temper and waning patience, she marveled that peace had reigned at Blackburn Manor for this long. The fact that she liked the man more each day exasperated her the most. Reyn exuded confidence, possessed a sharp wit, and virtually oozed masculine charm that set her toes to tingling. She enjoyed his company and anticipated his occasional caress. Every night before they retired, he bestowed on her a kiss that spoke to her soul and left her body craving something she didn't understand.
When she remembered the past week, she frowned and annihilated another delicate petal. The day-to-day routine remained the same. She breakfasted with Reyn and Agatha, after which he would closet himself within his study, or ride about the estate as he resumed the administration of his holdings. She spent her time visiting with Agatha, reading, practicing her music and savoring the manicured estate gardens and surrounding woods. The evenings varied depending on Reyn's whims, but most often Jocelyn and he dined together, sometimes playing chess or cards after the meal.
Thinking about the hours ahead of her, she crumpled the yellow flower into a tiny ball. "I must return to the house. Will you join me?"
"I believe I shall remain outdoors a bit longer."
Jocelyn stood, took a calming breath and left the cool shade of the tree. It was time to tuck her past into the recesses of her mind. Time to bury those unsettling emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach and sharpen her wit. It was time for tea. Reyn expected her.
Waltzing through the front door, she stopped when she noticed the hat and coat draped on the maple hall tree in the foyer. She peeked around the doorway of the drawing room and easily recognized the short, bald man who sat in the tall, winged leather chair. A whispered plea escaped her mouth. She had forgotten all about Mr. Nobb. The peaceful existence at Blackburn Manor was about to come to an abrupt end.
She marched toward the odious little man, who bore a distinct resemblance to a well-dressed toad, and greeted him coldly. "Good day, Mr. Nobb. Shouldn't you be at the mill?"
Neglecting all proper decorum, he remained seated. "I heard Lord Wilcott returned. I told you before. I intend to speak with him myself."
"That is quite impossible." The nasty little man had the audacity to snort, yet in order to expedite his departure, she had no time to provide a lecture on proper manners. "Lord Wilcott is extremely ill."
Scratching the exposed top of his head, he ran his tongue across his teeth as if searching for leftovers from lunch. "The butler said nothing."
"I imagine he thought it best if I brought you the news. If you will excuse me, I do have things to attend to." Like finding a way to tell Reyn about my interference before you do. She smiled serenely, gesturing toward the door. Nobb remained motionless.
"How long will he be indisposed?" Nobb asked.
"I cannot say."
Nobb's
arms rested above the bulging abdomen that pressed against his waistcoat. "If I don't see him today, you can be sure I'll return every day until I do. I intend to hear directly from him that he wants those changes you made kept in place."
"If you refer to the improved working conditions at the mill, I assure you, he stands behind them one hundred percent."
"We shall see, shan't we."
Quickly losing her patience, Jocelyn reverted to a haughty, authoritative voice. "This is utter nonsense. His lordship fully condones all the improvements I have made. In fact, last night over a medicinal tonic, he remarked about the long-term benefits of the changes. He applauded my concern and my actions."
Nobb snippily asked, "Exactly what has Lord Wilcott under the covers?"
She knew Nobb believed nothing she said, yet the first plausible disease came to mind and flew from her mouth. "Malaria. He contracted it during his travels and periodically he experiences these dreadful relapses." The nasty fellow still showed no signs of leaving. "My husband will be most upset to discover you are questioning my authority, Mr. Nobb."
"Precisely, my sweet."
Spinning like a lopsided whirligig, Jocelyn watched Reyn casually saunter to her side and place a lingering kiss on her hand, which he then kept captive. Her eyes sought his in an attempt to discover his mood and what he might have heard.
"With what is Mr. Nobb having difficulty?"
When the overseer stood beside the chair, eager to speak, she wanted nothing more than to slap the smug smile off his fat little face. No doubt he would relish any retributions Reyn directed toward her. "It seems-"
"Good to see you, your grace. Glad you're feeling better, sir."
Reyn frowned at Nobb before he smiled back at Jocelyn. "Yes. Malaria is such nasty business. Isn't it, my dear?"
Her stomach lurched. Sweet mercy, he had heard everything. "Are you sure you should be up, my lord?" she asked with overenthusiastic concern.
"A miraculous recovery," he said while he adjusted the starched cravat at his neck.
"Excuse me then. I shall attend to refreshments and leave the two of you alone to discuss business." She tugged her hand, trying to escape before the entire story unfolded.
"Unthinkable, since you were instrumental in implementing the changes. Shall we?" Reyn directed her toward the settee, where they both sat down.
Groaning, unsure what he had heard and unable to find a plausible excuse to escape, she prepared to act the devoted wife.
"Mr. Nobb, I believe you said you had some questions?"
The steely edge to Reyn's voice softened Mr. Nobb's voice, but only momentarily. "Well, your grace, while you were gone, your wife made adjustments at the mill that were enough to make a cat laugh." Chuckling at his own humor, clearing his throat when no one else joined him, Nobb continued, "I was thinking that maybe you might be having second thoughts."
Closely watching Jocelyn, Reyn nodded. "Yes, the changes. In reviewing my ledgers today, I discovered how vast they were. I must say it is amazing."
The overseer openly leered. "I tried to tell her that. Cost you some blunt, I'd say, but women don't always understand these things. Best place for them is in the bedroom, if you get my meaning."
"We are not here to discuss the roles of men and women. Pray continue."
Nobb rambled on with the flair of an overblown braggart. "Well, first off, I'd make all those women come back to the mill instead of weaving in their homes. If they'd rather stay at home and see to their wee ones, then so be it. As for the older kids attending school, we all know that's a bit of nonsense. Educating them does little good, and they can handle the work day as well as anyone. I don't think the shorter work hours a good idea, neither. I'm not convinced that those fancy rotary cutters are better than a good hand tool for shearing the nap." He paused, as if he expected a signal from the duke.
Reyn listened, his stony expression unreadable.
Jocelyn sat, her nerves stretched to their very ends. The finger-light circles Reyn drew in the palm of her hand increased her agitation. Aware of the awakening heat in the pit of her stomach, partly from fear, partly from the stimulating caress, she squirmed uncomfortably. If only she knew Reyn's thoughts.
When nothing more was said, the overseer prepared to gather his belongings. "Well, if it's fine with you, I'll set things to rights."
"Not so fast," Reyn said. "Please explain what it is you specifically wish to correct?"
"If you saw the numbers yourself, then you know less time working with the same wages makes no sense, and I don't believe this nonsense about the weaving being better, regardless of her ladyship's judgment. I think we best go back to the way things were."
Unsure of Reyn's intentions and stewing over the accusations from Mr. Nobb, Jocelyn could hold silent no longer. "How dare you, you miserable little frog! You would allow a boy of six to work from dawn to dusk, and take a mother from her home, leaving the babes to suffer. You pinch pennies on heat and light and even uti lize faulty equipment. Your management destroys the very basis of the family and, given their exhaustion and lack of will, they will continue to produce an inferior product. These people are human beings. They may not be educated, they may not be peers of the realm, but they deserve decent working conditions and fair pay. You prefer to run the mill like the miserable sweat houses that occupy much of our cities. My husband has the power to better their lives, and if you are so blind as to what a bit of kindness and understanding can do for increasing one's loyalty and desire to work, then you're as stupid as you appear."
Regretfully, she wished back her words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Jocelyn bit her lower lip, peeked at her husband and was startled to witness Reyn's winsome smile.
He peered at her from behind half-closed eyelids and asked, "Are you finished?"
Baffled by his nonchalance, she sat like a deflated balloon. He whispered in her ear, "Are you sure, Millicent?"
She could only stare at her husband.
"As you can see, Mr. Nobb, Lady Wilcott feels quite strongly about these changes. Perhaps, my dear, it would make Mr. Nobb less concerned if he knew where you had gained your expertise. Feel free to tell him of your education."
Her smile held no warmth. "I am sure he has no desire to hear such a boring recitation."
"As you choose." Reyn turned back to Nobb. "As you can see, she sees me as a social reformer of sorts. I have no choice but to allow her to see the project through."
Like a white-faced cheviot sheep, Nobb bleated, "But your lordship-she's a woman!"
"A fact I thank God for every day."
The little man flushed a dark red, furious that his directives were being overruled. He stood to leave. "As you wish, sir, as long as you understand it is against my better judgment."
"So noted. Now, I have something to say. Due to your years of service, I will allow you to stay at the mill. If I hear of any mistreatment toward a worker, or one whisper of degenerating conditions, you will be dismissed on the spot. Do I make myself clear?" The man could barely nod his head. "And Mr. Nobb, do not question Lady Wilcott or gainsay me again. Ever." Like the midshipman's warning bell, his ominous message suggested to the man that he leave quietly and promptly.
Hoping for immediate escape, Jocelyn offered to see their guest to the door. Reyn forestalled her efforts as he called for Briggs, who arrived to escort Nobb from the house. With a charmed smile pinned on his face, Reyn whispered for her ears only. "Do not, for one moment, consider leaving this room."
She knew the end had come. He would order her departure today. Out on the lawn she would be. No revenge. No money. Oh lord, where would she go? Her mind, a maelstrom of the worst possible scenarios, simultaneously struggled to create answers to the questions she knew she would be expected to answer. No matter what he did or said, she would not grovel. Chin lifted high, eyes directed on Reyn, she awaited his explosive reaction.
"A drink, my dear Millicent?"
"What?" she managed to croak, knocked
from her trance by his courteous manner.
"By the way, how does today's name fit so far? Any fond memories tripping about in that pretty little head of yours?" Reyn lifted one brow. "No? Well, then, I think a drink would be just the thing. Mayhap it would help my malaria."
Suspicions confirmed, although his voice gave no indication of his mood, Jocelyn knew, as surely as the sun set, that he wasn't pleased with her interference. "I can explain."
He leaned one arm against the mantel, a rapacious gleam to his eyes, "By all means. I look forward to this tale."
Unsure of where to begin, she decided that only the absolute truth would serve. "During your absence, mostly out of boredom and also hoping to contribute something for your generosity, I assumed the task of running your holdings."
"You assumed a great deal more than that."
She ignored his sharp barb and detailed her intervention, beginning with her first trip to the mill. Her shock and anger had been a volatile thing. After experiencing Bedlam, then encountering the deplorable working conditions in the mill, as well as Mr. Nobb and his disgusting demeanor, she vowed to make amends. "I was sure you were ignorant of the situation. Even you wouldn't allow your people to work without heat, suffer through their work with little food, poor light, endless hours and the abominable treatment from that poor excuse of a man. I had to do something."
Continuing to say very little, interjecting a question or two, Reyn allowed her to explain her efforts. "I did not make a frivolous decision. In the end, I calculated the workers' pay, the reduced hours and the additional costs to maintain a cleaner, more comfortable work space against the returns on the improved products to be sold. Utilizing the new rotary cutters, the nap shearing process is neater and more effective as well as faster. With the addition of weaving shawls, I determined the mill could be profitable, if not immediately, then within the next twelve months"