“There are worse places to nurse your wounds than in a well-sprung carriage.”
“Such as?”
“An ox cart in Spain. I swear the wheels were only round when they started and great splinters peeled off so that every turn of the axle was a thumping torture.”
“You were wounded in Spain?” Her hand covered his on the sofa and he turned his hand to grasp hers.
“No, I tended the wounded or what passed for tending them. With no training I had only the word of the surgeons that I was doing them any good. Giving them water sometimes meant the difference between life and death. Or a bearable death and an agonizing one.”
“So your life to date has been one long hardship until General Soutine took you in and we ruined that.”
“’Tis true I have been more comfortable these past few months than ever before. I’ve had a roof over my head that didn’t leak and a fireplace that didn’t smoke, more than enough to eat and I was learning something. What will it be like at Old Stand?”
“The roof leaks but only when the rain drives in from the east and the fireplaces do smoke.”
He grinned. “But only when a fire is lit.”
Juliet laughed nervously. “Gerard, what if we have taken you away from a safe comfortable life only to thrust you into a dangerous situation?”
“Dangerous? I assure you I am proof against a little rain or smoke.”
“I was thinking only about pleasing your grandfather.” She rubbed her hands together. “I hate it when he rants at me. But there is Claude to deal with as well as his father.”
“His father would be who again?”
“Your Uncle Nash.”
“Right but he is the heir then, not Claude.”
“Only if you are dead. Claude was the one we were worried about since he is the one Great-uncle planned for me to marry. He thought I might be able to modify his behavior.”
“That’s a tall order if he’s as bad as you say.”
“You mean for a girl.”
“For any woman. I’ll see what I can do about him.”
She stared at him, her brow deliciously puckered. “You’re not planning on killing him or anything, are you?”
Gerard laughed. “No. Are either of them likely to murder me?”
“That’s the awful part. I don’t know.” She stood up and paced to the fireplace “Claude is a brute and a bully but he’s not stupid. Nash is more refined but he has a nastier tongue which he uses even on Claude.”
“You relieve my mind of at least one worry.”
“What could possibly be worse than that?”
“I shall not be bored.”
* * * * *
In spite of Gerard’s repeated assurance that he was fine on the journey from London to Old Stand Juliet suspected he was in a deal of pain. Why else had he asked Charles to get him a brandy at the last inn where they stopped to change horses? And why had Gerard downed it so eagerly? Now he dozed off and on, always waking with a start.
“Are we there yet?”
Charles turned to him with a weary sigh. “Yes, finally we have arrived. That boundary post marks the corner of Old Stand. We have a mile of river frontage. The rest of the property rises. The lower fields are used for crops and the uplands for pastures.”
“I know you said you were in the wool trade but I didn’t comprehend in what measure.” Gerard gazed at the pastures dotted with sheep.
“It comprises the bulk of our income. But don’t throw that up to Great-uncle.”
“Is he embarrassed by living off trade?”
“Not since Charles handles it all for him,” Juliet said. “The general supervises the crops. You can talk about wool and sheep. Don’t mention trade.”
“I’m surprised someone as young as Chandler has been saddled with the business. Why doesn’t Nash manage it?”
Charles laughed. “He refused, said he had no interest in it.”
“What about the oldest son, the one who died—how was it?”
“Aubrey. Broke his neck over a jump. Don’t mention fox hunting either,” Charles advised.
“Not likely. Is there any other topic I should not raise in conversation?”
Juliet thought for a moment. “Your father, war—any war—the French of course and what else, Charles? Help me out.”
“Mangel-wurzels.”
“What’s a mango-whatzel?” Gerard asked.
Some sort of beet that didn’t work here. It doesn’t matter. Don’t mention them.”
“There’s the house.” Juliet leaned forward and Gerard ducked his head to gaze at the rambling stone edifice, then sat back with a grunt.
“Will you both teach me about the wool trade, in private, of course?”
“So you mean to stick it out?” Charles asked.
“I simply do not want to appear a complete dunderhead. What is a safe topic of conversation?”
Juliet looked at Charles and he laughed. “No idea from day to day. Just don’t rise to any bait Nash casts your way.”
“Wonderful.”
Juliet loved the expression on Gerard’s face, the way the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, the way his brows drew together when they had confused him. And she loved conspiring with him and Charles. It had only been the two of them against the world for so long that she’d had no idea what it was like to have a friend.
When the carriage pulled around the loop of drive Gerard got stiffly out and staggered a little. Though the brandy had relieved the pain, even after several hours, his head was spinning.
“Your grandfather will be in the estate office this time of day,” Chandler advised. “But if you are feeling unwell I can get them to make a room ready for you.”
“I don’t imagine he would like putting off our meeting.”
Juliet cast a warning glare at her brother but said. “Visit him now if you must but keep it short. I will see to the servants and baggage.”
Gerard limped after Chandler along a hallway and toward a set of double doors from which shouting was emanating. Just as Chandler was about to knock, the doors sprang open, almost hitting them and a statuesque woman strode out.
“Aunt Helen.”
“Shut up, Chandler,” she demanded until they sidled out of her way.
“Well?” called a voice from within.
They walked into the study and Gerard confronted a man who looked shockingly like his father aged twenty years. There was the firm jaw, the mouth that could be grim and those brilliant blue eyes. All he had lost when his father had died came back to him in a huge sweep of regret. The eyes that glared at him must have found him wanting or perhaps the chiseled nose had detected the brandy fumes, for the grim expression grew harsher still.
“So, you are the boy who says he is Gerard Cochran.”
The coldness of the remark caught him off guard. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but resentment had not been on the list. “You had better hope so, else Chandler is guilty of abducting a French citizen.”
His cousin laughed uncertainly as General Cochran rose. He was half a head taller than Gerard.
“Well, are you, or aren’t you?” The man glared at him or perhaps at Chandler’s coat handing loosely on his thinner frame.
“I am Gerard Cochran.” He was now disturbed by the French accent he had worked on so studiously.
“Can you prove it?” The man picked up a riding crop and began pulling the thong end through one hand.
Chandler stood to attention. “He has papers, sir.”
“I asked him.”
Gerard cocked his head to one side. The temptation to disprove it ran like lightning through his mind. Did he really want to deal with this tartar on a daily basis? Then Juliet’s parting, pleading look came back to him and he tamped down his temper. “How do you suggest I do that?”
“How can you be Gerard? The boy traveled with the British army. He would never have a French accent.”
“I spoke French to my mother who raised me w
hile Father was at war.”
The gaze could have roasted him. General Cochran turned and paced to the window. “So you have lived in France with your mother all this time, not been with the army?”
“No. We both traveled with the army, mercenary or English as the need arose. Her family disowned her for marrying an Englishman.” Gerard glanced at Charles and saw his eyes bulge. “She died when I was fourteen.”
The general turned and inspected him. “Chandler wrote me you were staying with a French family in Paris after the latest conflict. Why didn’t you return to the army?”
Gerard slid a look toward Chandler and saw him shake his head almost imperceptibly. He tried to smooth the accent out of his voice but it was difficult. “They found me after the battle and healed my wounds. I had never enlisted and there didn’t seem any point in finding the army again. I was no longer a dependant. In fact they had no responsibility for me after Father’s death.”
General Cochran’s head snapped toward him.
“It was General Soutine, wasn’t it?” He brought the riding crop down across the desk and split a piece of parchment in half with the impact.
Chandler staggered backward but Gerard resisted the urge to jump. He was no stranger to loud noises. Besides, he feared that if he moved suddenly he would fall over.
“How did you guess?” he asked.
“He knew who you were and decided to keep your existence from me.”
Gerard cleared his throat. “I never interpreted his compassion as anything but good will. He knew my father.”
“That is not why he sought you out and took you in.” The anger in the words cut like a sword blade.
“Why then?” Gerard risked asking, ignoring the grimacing Chandler for he really did want to know. Soutine had never satisfactorily answered that question.
“To spite me.”
Gerard laughed. “General Soutine does not live in the past.”
“As I do? If you cannot prove who you are you may as well take yourself back to France.”
Gerard turned to Chandler with a smile. “I told you it would be a wasted trip.”
“But he has papers,” Chandler argued.
“They could have been forged as Helen has just pointed out to me.”
“And we have John’s trunk,” Chandler said. “There may be some proof in there.”
“Very well. We will test him with the contents. I’ve given orders to put him in the blue chamber. After dinner we will discuss this.”
They had both turned to go with Chandler opening the door when the rough voice asked, “How badly were you wounded to be still favoring your ribs?”
Gerard wondered what had given him away. “Oh, I recovered from the battle long ago, a head wound. These are Chandler’s ministrations. He’s not much of a dab hand at the kidnapping business.”
The arched eyebrows he expected. It was just such a look as his father had when surprised either pleasantly or not. The crack of laughter he had not anticipated. Perhaps there was something human behind that rough military veneer.
Gerard followed Chandler up the stairs and entered the small chamber where Gordon was laying out clothes for him that were not his own.
“Gordon will serve as your valet,” Chandler said.
Gordon bowed. “I hope I will give satisfaction. If not you can choose someone else.”
Gerard sat on the bed with a groan. “I was going to say I am not in the habit of needing a valet but I see that I do.”
“Change for dinner,” Chandler said. “I bought you some clothes in London that might fit you better than mine. Tomorrow we will order you some new suits.”
“Is there something significant about this bedroom?” Gerard commented as Gordon began to pull off his boots.
“By rights you should have claimed your father’s room but his things are still locked up in there after all these years.”
“Ah, putting me there would have been an acceptance and he doesn’t want to do that.” Gerard tugged at his neckcloth.
Chandler looked puzzled. “I think he does.”
“But he doesn’t want to admit it or perhaps cannot afford to until I have passed his wife’s acid test.”
“You seem to understand him pretty well already.”
“He is a lot like Father or I should say Father was a lot like him. I see now why they clashed.” He stood so Gordon could slide his coat off.
“See you don’t do the same. Move smart, Gordon. We don’t want to have them put dinner back because of us.”
As Gordon helped him change his clothes and finish his wardrobe by tying one of Chandler’s neckcloths for him Gerard decided that his grandfather had addressed him initially as he would a soldier, moreover a soldier absent without leave and drunk into the bargain. Once he realized Gerard was no such thing he dropped his military shield and seemed more human. Gerard knew this because his father was always stiffer with the troops than his friends though he had no end of compassion for the wounded. So there might be a chance to marry Juliet after all even if he did not mean to stay here. But if he meant to pursue a medical career with the attendant years of school required, was it fair to hope Juliet would wait to marry him or for that matter was it fair to assume she would be content to wed a country doctor or a surgeon who might even follow the army? Now, he was at a real crossroads. He might have to choose between Juliet and what he thought he ought to do with the rest of his life.
* * * * *
Juliet was nervously tapping her foot as she waited with the family in the drawing room. When Gerard appeared in the doorway she realized Gordon had worked a small miracle with one of Chandler’s neckcloths. Her cousin almost reeled backward when everyone stood to be introduced. In rapid succession he made the acquaintance of the general’s much younger sister Emma and her children Melanthe and Jack and of the disapproving Helen and her son Nash and grandson Claude. Though they were all staring at him it was Nash who attacked first.
“So this is our little imposter?” he said with that drawl he imagined as so cultured. To Juliet his voice sounded slurred. She could hear the drink in it without smelling his breath.
Gerard merely smiled. “So, this is our little heir apparent?”
Juliet clapped a hand over her mouth to stop a giggle.
“Don’t jab at me, boy. You are nothing here.”
“Silence,” the general shouted. “I won’t have this bickering in my house.”
“Good, for I am famished,” Charles said as he opened the doors to the dining room and reached for Melanthe’s hand. She was a delicate girl, very quiet and easily trampled in such a family. It would be good if Charles could rescue her even if he did not love her.
The seating could have been worse. At least Gerard had Juliet on his left and Charles across the way. At the other end of the table Nash and Claude bracketed his grandfather like book ends, not an entirely apt simile now that she looked at them. There was some resemblance between Nash and the general but Claude was shorter and meatier than the other Cochran men. Why had she never noted it before? Perhaps because she could see Gerard comparing them. He looked at her then with a question in his gaze.
Charles began discussing the wool deals he had make in France and it seemed safe just to listen to him.
“Do you know anything about the wool trade?” Nash asked Gerard.
He finished cutting a bite of the lamb cutlet and held it up on the end of his fork. “I know excellent lamb from mutton and that’s the extent of it.”
Juliet and Charles laughed as did Emma and Melanthe. Jack stared, wide eyed.
His grandfather looked at him tolerantly. “He’s young enough to learn if the teaching becomes necessary.”
“What do you know?” demanded Claude who was emptying his wineglass too regularly for comfort.
Juliet could see Gerard quickly edit out of his qualifications anything that would raise an eyebrow. At least that is what she hoped was delaying his reply.
“Languages, mathematics,
history.”
“That’s useless.” Claude took another gulp of wine.
Gerard smiled and it made her stomach flutter with worry. He was going to do something wicked. She just knew it by the way the corners of his mouth turned up.
“I can beat the tattoo. I know all the drumming signals the officers use for orders.”
The general stiffened in his chair and his glare shot across the table like a striking snake.
Charles coughed over a groan.
“Fat lot of good that will do you, drummer boy,” Nash said.
“Though I was not a drummer, I did aspire to be one. They are very important you see.”
“How so?” Claude asked.
“They are the army’s chief means of communication on the march or in battle. I once heard an officer ask a drummer what the order was he was hearing and the boy replied, “That’s the advance, sir,” and took up the beat with his own drum. Without those boys the army would have been deaf and dumb.”
Juliet could see General Cochran’s mouth quirk in a smile but it was gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
“You’ll forget about the army and not speak of it again,” he ordered.
“Very well,” Gerard agreed and went back to cutting his food which he could manage if he held his elbow close to his side.
“I still say it’s a stupid occupation.”
“Claude, I said to stop talking about it,” the general shouted.
She saw Gerard smile with satisfaction after Claude got that reprimand. Perhaps there was more to Gerard than she had realized. For one thing a reprehensible wit.
His grandfather was a man of few words but he expected the ones he uttered to be obeyed. If Gerard respected that he might be accepted.
Charles expelled a pent-up breath and Juliet leaped into the awkward silence. “I have brought Belgium lace for all of us. We’ll unpack it tomorrow.” Fashions constituted the subject of conversation until the ladies rose to leave the gentlemen to their port.
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