With a none too quiet snort, Mr. Stanley did as bade. Patricia quickly followed to orchestrate the placement of her luggage before another disaster occurred.
“Where the blazes is Robert?” Jared snapped, aggravated by the whole scene.
“Right here, cousin.”
Alissa viewed the well-dressed man as he sauntered through the doorway, a foil-wrapped box, tied with blue ribbon, tucked under his arm. Tall and handsome, his hair a bit lighter than Jared’s, he was not nearly as attractive as Jared, in her estimation.
“Do you always encounter this sort of chaos when receiving guests?” Robert Braxton Hamilton asked when he’d reached Jared’s side. “Or is it only with Patricia?”
Jared arched a brow. “I suppose you were unable to convince her to stay in Edinburgh?”
“She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Next time, don’t mention you’re coming. It’ll save us all the aggravation.”
“Ah, Robert,” Patricia said, the words oozing out in relief as she moved toward the two men, “I see you’ve brought Megan’s gift. I thought it lost in the melee.” She took the box in hand and straightened the bright blue bow. “Where is my dearest niece, anyway?”
Jared turned to Alissa. “Miss Pembroke, please find Megan and bring her into the sitting room.” He then motioned Robert and Patricia toward the mentioned room.
“Cousin, aren’t you being remiss?” Robert asked, inclining his head toward Alissa, who had not yet moved. Noting Jared’s confused frown, he prompted, “Introductions.”
“Your pardon. Miss Patricia Southworth and Mr. Robert Hamilton, may I present Miss Agatha Pembroke, Megan’s governess.”
“Miss Pembroke,” Robert greeted her, then bowed slightly. “Jared has extolled your excellent reputation from the moment he’d learned of your existence. I hope you can help Megan as much as you’ve helped the other children you’ve worked with over the years.”
Alissa felt a bit nervous. The high praises belonged to another, yet she was the one to receive them. More expectations were being heaped upon her, and she began to feel the heaviness of her lies once more. “I shall do my best,” she replied, wondering if it would be good enough.
“Miss Pembroke,” Patricia said, virtually ignoring the amenities of their introduction, “I’m most anxious to see my niece. I have a gift for her, so please fetch her.”
Alissa immediately bristled at the woman’s condescending tone. “If I were a hound and Megan a bone, then, indeed, I would fetch her, Miss Southworth. However, neither one of us fits those qualifications. I will inform her of your arrival.” With that, Alissa turned on her heel and marched up the stairs, wishing again she’d learn to control her temper.
“Close your mouth, Patricia,” Jared said, and his sister-in-law snapped her jaw shut. “You will find Miss Pembroke to be an opinionated woman who speaks her mind quite freely. She has the propensity to try the patience of a saint. Even I have difficulty communicating with her.”
“You are no saint, Jared,” Patricia countered with a teasing smile.
“Hardly,” he agreed. “But neither am I the spawn of the devil as Megan’s governess believes me to be.”
“Why, then, do you employ her?” Patricia asked, seeing her opening. “I’m certain, if you’d only let me try, I could have Megan talking in no time at all. How can a stranger possibly know what the child has suffered? I—”
Jared waved her off. “We’ve already been that route,” he said, not bothering to explain Mrs. Dugan’s similar concerns. “She needs an experienced teacher, one who’s worked with children like Megan. As far as I know, Miss Pembroke is the only one of her kind.”
Patricia instantly disagreed with Jared’s statement, but she held her tongue. She’d learned long ago one didn’t really win points with a man by being argumentative. Given a few days, she was certain she could change Jared’s mind. After all, hadn’t she come all this way to show him just how very nurturing and motherly she could be? It mattered not that she hadn’t seen Megan for almost a year. Once she’d won over the child, the father was sure to follow.
How very foolish of Celeste, Patricia thought as she viewed Jared’s handsome profile. Her sister never really knew what a catch she’d actually made. But Patricia was well aware of Jared’s qualities, his money, his … no, he’d warned her never to speak or think of that! Very well, she wouldn’t. But it made no difference. He was what he was, he couldn’t deny it. Her sights were aimed. Just give her a few weeks, and she’d bag her quarry.
Upstairs, Alissa entered the playroom and Megan’s expectant gaze turned toward her from across the room. Realizing the child was wondering over her misplaced doll, Alissa smiled and said, “I’m afraid I haven’t found Mathilda yet. In fact, I had to discontinue my search because we have just received visitors. Your cousin Robert has arrived, and he has brought your Aunt Patricia with him.”
Alissa noted that the spark of excitement that had entered Megan’s eyes when she’d mentioned Robert’s name had quickly died upon hearing Patricia’s. But, then, she remembered Jared’s rather cool response to the woman, and she wondered if both Braxtons regarded her in the same light.
“Your father has asked that we join them in the downstairs sitting room. So let’s have a quick wash of your face and hands and run a brush through your hair. We want to look our very best.”
Megan made a slow trek toward Alissa, her gaze downcast. Then she raised questioning eyes toward her governess. “Must I?” she signed with her small hand.
“Since your father has requested that you do, I think perhaps we should comply with his wishes,” Alissa said, then noticed the child seemed overly anxious. “Are you nervous about seeing your aunt?” Megan nodded. “You don’t have to be. Your father will be with you, and so will I.”
Megan seemed to ponder Alissa’s words. Over the past two days since Alissa was given complete charge of Megan, she hadn’t been able to break through the barrier that the child had erected around herself, but she’d been able to whittle away at its edges, bit by bit, weakening its mortar, to form a tentative bond of trust with the girl. Yet, Alissa was well aware that the least little thing could cause the wall to reseal itself again.
“I promise you have nothing to fear,” she said, knowing the child realized that in whatever Alissa promised, she always kept her word. “In fact, I believe your aunt has a wonderful surprise for you.”
Megan’s eyes brightened with anticipation. Finally nodding her assent, she took Alissa’s hand. But as the two left the playroom for a quick grooming, Alissa wished she hadn’t spoken so swiftly. Intuition told her that Patricia Southworth’s concerns lay mainly with the father, not the daughter. And should the pretentious woman forget Megan’s delicate emotional state and somehow hurt the child, then all that Alissa had accomplished would lie in ruin; Megan’s growing trust in her would be destroyed.
When Robert and Patricia were seated in the small room, directly off the entrance hall, Jared asked, “May I offer you a glass of sherry, Patricia?”
“Thank you, yes,” she answered as she perused the room and its soft blends of creams, blues, and violets, deciding she’d change the decor once Jared and she were married. “I might ask for a bit of nourishment, as well. We’ve been traveling since dawn.”
“Here, here,” Robert agreed. “And make mine a brandy, cousin.”
Once cook had been notified and the drinks distributed, Jared sat opposite his guests. Raising his glass, he saluted both, then swallowed a small portion of his brandy. He’d been trying to cut back, but he had the feeling, with Patricia and Agatha in the same house, it was going to be doubly difficult to abstain.
Then, as he viewed his former sister-in-law, who chattered away about the latest gossip from Edinburgh, he again noted how much she resembled Celeste: the red hair, the gray-green eyes, the tilt of her head, the throatiness of her voice. Several years younger than Celeste, who would be twenty-six, if she’d lived, Patricia had always bee
n the more stable of the two, which said little, if anything. Both sisters had been more concerned with the frivolities of life than the realities. Obviously, Patricia still was.
He couldn’t figure why she was here. One would have thought she’d have taken the hint, as did the others, when he’d practically severed all contact with his late wife’s family, shortly after her death. An occasional note or card exchanged hands through the mails, addressing the usual social amenities, inquiring about one’s health. But other than that, no communication had been made, and certainly not in person. Yet, Patricia remained in touch more often than Jared would have liked, and usually it was with a surprise visit, like this one. Her unannounced visits normally occurred when he was in Edinburgh on business. In fact, she hadn’t been to Hawkstone in ages, which in his estimation was a godsend for all concerned. “Patricia,” he interrupted her regalement of the ball she’d attended last week, “May I ask why—”
“Megan, darling!” she exclaimed, cutting Jared off. Then she opened her arms, wide. “Come give Auntie Patricia a hug, dear.”
Auntie? Alissa thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. The term belonged to a woman three times Miss Southworth’s age. Looking at Jared, she noticed the slight twitch of his lips, the subtle arch of his brow, and the almost imperceptible nod of his head. He seemed to be agreeing with her. Quickly, she turned her attention to Megan.
Noting the child’s hesitation, she leaned over and whispered, “Your aunt has come a great distance to see you. It would be nice if you were to greet her.”
Megan viewed Alissa with wide, innocent eyes. They seemed to plead not to make her do it.
“Shall I come with you?” Alissa asked, for she saw no reason to force the child. “If you like, we can greet her together.” She suddenly felt a vibrant presence and straightened to find Jared beside her.
“Come, sweet, we’ll all greet your Auntie Patricia,” he said, smiling. “You must forgive my former sister-in-law,” he whispered to Alissa. “She’s a bit theatrical at times.”
“By chance, has she considered the stage?” she returned, feeling an unexpected rapport, possibly because he seemed as put out with Patricia Southworth as she was.
“She’s considered many things, but has never gone any further than the initial thought.”
“Too bad. She might have great potential. London would love her.”
“Are you an expert on the theater?” Jared asked, curious. Hoping she was, he wanted to discover the true name of his Hermia. “The London theater?”
Startled by the freeness with which she’d spoken, Alissa quickly answered, “No. I have no actual knowledge of the theater in London. I simply assumed, by her beauty and grace, all of London would have fallen at her feet.” Another lie! And she wondered at what number she should mark this one, but she discovered she’d lost count. Then she heard Patricia clear her throat.
“Jared, if you and Megan’s governess are finished with your tête-à-tête, I’d like to speak with my niece.”
“As you wish, Auntie,” Jared said, and received a perturbed look from the redhead.
“You deserve to be teased, Patricia,” Robert spoke up. “You’ve managed to present us all with the mental picture of a white-haired, raisin-faced dowager. I think ‘aunt’ would have sufficed.”
“Oh, Robert, hush,” she snipped at him.
“I have to agree with Robert,” Jared said, defending his cousin. “Megan has not seen you in nearly a year. She does not remember you that well.” He cast her a cautioning look as he released Megan’s hand. Move slowly, it said.
Unwisely, Patricia ignored the warning and took Megan in a smothering embrace; her stifling kisses covered the child’s face. Frightened, Megan pushed from her aunt’s arms and hid in the folds of Alissa’s dowdy gray gown. In an automatic response, she hugged the child close. Her intense gaze settled on Patricia, and Alissa directed a condemning look at the woman.
Patricia, however, disregarded the message and turned to Robert. She never dared look at Jared. “Hand me the box, please, Robert.” He did, and Patricia held the foil-wrapped gift on her lap. “Megan, in my eagerness to show my affection, I managed to frighten you. I’m terribly sorry. Will you forgive me?” she asked, easing a smile onto her unlined face.
With a child’s curiosity, Megan’s wide eyes surveyed the beautifully decorated box, and she slowly nodded.
“Wonderful.” Patricia patted the violet and cream striped silk cushion of the settee. “Sit here and let’s see what’s inside this box, shall we?”
Megan looked to her father, and seeing his reassuring nod, she moved from Alissa’s side. Perching on the edge of her seat, then covering her small knees with her pink skirt, she folded her hands and waited.
“Wouldn’t you like to open it?” Patricia asked.
Megan appraised her aunt for a moment, then accepted the gift and carefully began to unwrap the paper. Patricia, anxious for all to see the magnificent gift, became impatient and tore into the wrappings herself. After the ribbon and paper fell to the floor, the lid popped off. Inside was a doll, with red hair and an exquisite porcelain face.
Alissa thought it the most beautiful doll she’d ever seen, but Megan suddenly shoved the gift away. Surprised by her action, Alissa looked to Jared. His jaw locked, a nerve twitched along its edge. A definite look of murder flared in his eyes. And it was directed at Patricia.
Mrs. Dugan entered the room, then, carrying a heavily laden tray of assorted fruits, cheeses, and a plate of freshly baked croissants, cakes, and other pastries. “Might I help you?” Alissa asked.
With an effectual snub, Leona turned her eyes from Alissa’s. “It’s good to see you both again, Miss Patricia, Mr. Robert,” she said, then she noticed the doll. “Oh, how lovely. It looks exactly like Miss Celeste, even down to the small mole at the corner of her mouth and the dimple in her chin.”
“I’m afraid Megan doesn’t like it,” Patricia pouted.
“Doesn’t like it? Megan,” Leona said, “how can you not like it? It’s a beautiful remembrance of your mother.”
Megan’s concentration dropped to her tightly clasped hands. Confused, Alissa didn’t understand why she wouldn’t accept the gift, or why Jared had seemed so livid over its presentation. Still, he remained stoically silent.
“I had so hoped she’d be pleased with it,” Patricia said, sulking. “I had it specially made in France.”
“Since your aunt went to so much trouble,” Leona urged, “why don’t you make a special place for it in your room?”
“Miss Pembroke,” Jared commanded, his hard gaze still centered on his sister-in-law, “take Megan upstairs.”
“But, Jared,” Patricia objected, “I—”
“Say not a word. Miss Pembroke, please …”
“Should I take the doll, too?” Alissa asked, cautiously.
“Yes,” Jared hissed. When she and Megan reached the entry, he ordered over his shoulder, “Close the doors.”
She pulled the panels shut and quickly led Megan across the foyer and up the stairs. She could only imagine what might be transpiring in the sitting room, but from the look in Jared’s hard, green eyes, she knew it was not a pleasant scene. Not pleasant at all.
Once inside Megan’s room, Alissa asked, “Do you want me to put the doll in the cradle with the others?”
Megan vehemently shook her head.
“No? Then where shall we put it?”
Megan grabbed the box and pointed.
“You wish for me to pack it away?” she asked, and saw her short nod. Not until today had Alissa known what Celeste looked like. All her portraits had been removed. In fact, there were no portraits on the walls whatsoever. It was as though the past had been stripped from the house, including all ancestral reminders. Again she wondered what secrets Hawkstone kept. Megan’s, as well. “Your mother was very beautiful,” she said, carefully placing the doll into the box. “We’ll put this away, and perhaps someday you will want to display it.”
With a violent shove, Megan almost knocked the box from Alissa’s hands. Teary-eyed, she ran to her bed and bounded to the mattress, where she lay with her back to the room.
Finally switching her concerned gaze from Megan, Alissa stored the doll away in a drawer, then moved to the bed. Unable to tell if Megan actually slept, or if she simply pretended, Alissa pulled the cover up over the girl’s shoulders and moved to a corner chair. Partially blaming herself for the child’s woes, she kept a silent vigil.
Her troubled thoughts a jumble, for she couldn’t understand Megan’s tormented reaction to the gift, Alissa suddenly remembered the dollhouse. As she reviewed the girl’s odd play with the dolls, especially the one representing the mother, she realized Megan hadn’t been pretending at all! No wonder she’d refused the doll.
It seemed strange to Alissa that any child could feel such teeming anger, especially toward a parent. How sad, she thought, her heart twisting painfully, that the child’s memories of her mother were so dark. Apparently, Megan was truly scarred by Celeste’s rejection, if indeed that was the case, and Alissa couldn’t imagine feeling so unloved. Thankfully, unlike Megan, Alissa had been spared the mental anguish of being openly spurned by her own parent. As she searched her memory for any hint of having known her father, Alissa felt the sudden sting of tears and quickly wiped all thoughts of the faceless man who had sired her away.
Again, she thought of Celeste and doubted the woman’s selfish nature was the full reason behind Megan’s silence. There had to be more to it, but she couldn’t fathom what. Then she thought of the maids’ gossip. Surely not! It was impossible. Jared Braxton couldn’t possibly have murdered his wife.
Alissa refused to believe he could commit such a heinous act. Yet, by his own admission, he possessed a volatile temper. Once crossed, especially if he’d been cuckolded as the one maid had implied, then he might have been capable of anything!
Masque of Enchantment Page 12