Garland of Straw (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 2)

by Stella Riley

  ‘I believe so.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Dearest, the Colonel and I would like to speak privately.’

  Having little alternative but to take the hint, Phoebe moved reluctantly to the door. One look at the Colonel’s face, however, was enough to inform her that Mother was unlikely to emerge from the encounter much wiser. She left the room grinning mildly – and walked straight into her eldest sister.

  ‘Oh Lord! Where have you been?’ she hissed.

  ‘Taking Gypsy for a walk,’ responded Venetia, briskly stripping off her gloves. ‘Why? Has something happened?’

  ‘Not yet – but it’s just about to.’ Phoebe took a long, fortifying breath. ‘Colonel Brandon is here.’

  Venetia froze. ‘Where?’

  ‘In the parlour, being interrogated by Mother. But don’t worry. I doubt she’ll get much out of him so you’ve plenty of time to change.’

  ‘Change? Why should I wish to do that?’

  ‘I should have thought that was obvious,’ replied Phoebe, critically surveying her sister’s serviceable winter cloak and the plain woollen gown she wore beneath it. ‘Your hair’s in a tangle and your hem is all muddy. You don’t want the Colonel to see you looking like that, do you?’

  Venetia took off her cloak and laid it across Phoebe’s arms.

  ‘Since his opinion is a matter of supreme indifference to me, I don’t see why not.’

  ‘But you can’t.’

  ‘Watch me,’ came the grim reply. And stalking up to the parlour door, Venetia opened it and went in.

  Ellen Clifford’s latest attempt at delicate persuasion died on her lips and a small shudder passed over her.

  Gabriel merely turned slowly and, keeping his expression utterly blank, inclined his head in token acknowledgement.

  ‘Mistress Clifford.’

  ‘Colonel Brandon,’ she returned mockingly. ‘How kind of you to favour us with a visit.’

  ‘Kindness, so far as I’m aware, has little to do with it. Or perhaps you don’t feel we have anything to say to each other?’

  The amethyst gaze travelled to Lady Clifford and then back again.

  ‘On the contrary. I would, however, prefer to hold our conversation in private.’

  After her behaviour at Brandon Lacey, Gabriel was unable to resist raising faintly malicious brows.

  ‘Really? You surprise me.’

  Venetia’s hands clenched on the limp folds of her gown but, before she could reply, her mother said peevishly, ‘Don’t be silly, dearest. That would be quite improper.’

  ‘In which case it should accord perfectly with the situation as a whole, shouldn’t it?’ responded Venetia tartly. ‘I’m sorry, Mother – but etiquette is a little out of place here and, if you won’t leave this room, then we must. Colonel?’ And so saying, she opened the door and swept through it.

  With an almost imperceptible shrug, Gabriel bowed once more to Lady Clifford and then strolled unhurriedly in Venetia’s wake. He found her awaiting him on the other side of the hall in a small, cluttered room that was plainly used as some kind of office. As soon as he appeared, she said, ‘Shut the door, for God’s sake or we’ll have half the household standing around listening.’

  ‘Not unless they’ve finished re-arranging the bedchambers,’ he murmured, doing as she asked. Then, turning to face her, ‘Very well. I’m sure neither one of us wishes to spend any longer over this than necessary … so do you want to start or shall I?’

  Venetia was cold with apprehension and her nerves vibrated like plucked wires.

  ‘I think perhaps you should.’

  ‘Then I’ll be brief. I am aware – as I presume you are – that your brother has decided not to return. This —’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Gabriel watched the blood drain slowly from her skin and realised that he ought to have expected some such reaction.

  ‘Since you failed to assure me that you could reach him, I sent someone to Paris to find him.’

  ‘I see.’ Venetia willed her voice to remain steady. ‘In which case, you must know why he won’t come back.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘What do you intend to do about it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he sighed. ‘I’m not in the business of religious persecution.’

  She surveyed him with weary derision.

  ‘Do you expect me to believe that?’

  ‘It’s immaterial to me what you believe.’

  ‘Naturally. And, of course, so long as Harry holds by his decision, you don’t have to persecute him, do you?’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Only that I doubt his chosen vocation came as a big disappointment to you.’

  Gabriel put a severe curb on his tongue.

  ‘This would be a lot easier if you refrained from making assumptions,’ he returned coldly. ‘In fact, I find his attitude totally incomprehensible and can only marvel at your stoic acceptance of it. But then, having already told me he wouldn’t return, you were presumably expecting something of the sort.’

  There was a short, tense silence.

  ‘No.’ Venetia swung abruptly away towards the window. ‘No. I wasn’t. Oh – Harry’s been flirting with Catholicism for years but I never thought he’d carry it this far. I just thought he’d refuse to take the Oath because of Kit.’

  ‘Kit?’

  ‘Harry’s twin. He died at Lichfield.’

  ‘Ah.’ A frown entered the dark eyes. ‘I see.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ She turned back to him, her expression once more under control and bitterly hostile. ‘However, none of this is of any consequence to you, is it? If it were, you wouldn’t have come here wearing that loathsome uniform. So since we both know you hold all the advantages, you may as well get on with whatever it was you came here to say.’

  Gabriel didn’t bother to tell her that his only other suit of clothes was still in Wat’s hands undergoing much-needed restoration. He merely wished that she didn’t have such an unfailing knack of making his hackles rise. And that he could walk out of the house, never to return.

  Fixing her with his most shuttered gaze, he punished her with a long, excoriating silence. Then, as impassively as he was able, he said, ‘When last we met, you said that nothing would induce you to marry me … and, if that’s still true, you have only to say so. If, on the other hand, you’ve decided that circumstances alter cases, I’m here to give you the chance to change your mind.’

  It appeared to be precisely what she had needed to hear but still something shifted unpleasantly behind Venetia’s ribs.

  ‘What are you saying?’ she asked faintly.

  ‘How much plainer do I have to make it?’ came the irritable response. ‘With no pleasure and a good deal of reluctance, I am signifying my willingness to marry you. Did you expect me to go down on one knee?’

  Very slowly, she lowered herself into the nearest chair and continued to stare at him with acute suspicion.

  ‘Why? Why are you doing this?’

  Gabriel drew a breath of pure impatience.

  ‘Since you won’t believe me if I tell you, that question seems rather pointless.’ He paused. ‘Well? After nearly six months, it can hardly require much consideration. You must already know what your answer is – and a simple yes or no will do.’

  Venetia started forcing her frozen brain to work. He obviously hadn’t spoken to Lawyer Crisp yet but there were no guarantees as to how long that would last. And so, if she was going to save Ford Edge, it had to be done now.

  ‘Are you serious?’ she asked remotely.

  ‘Would I be running such a stupid risk if I wasn’t?’

  ‘I – I don’t know.’

  ‘Well that’s a step in the right direction, at all events. I thought you could forecast my every move,’ said Gabriel caustically. And then, ‘All right. Let’s see if we can find a motive that will appeal to you. I don’t want your family’s ruin on my conscience; I need
a well-bred wife to give me standing in the county; I want to remain in the Army and can’t see myself running this place as well as Brandon Lacey; I want to spite my half-brother so badly that I can’t resist taking his woman as well as his home. Take your pick. The truth – or something very like it – is in there somewhere.’

  Venetia believed him and was convinced she knew what it was. Every line of her face expressing contempt, she said cuttingly, ‘I’m sure of it. I’m only surprised it’s taken you so long to admit it.’

  ‘My devious nature,’ excused Gabriel, shutting his anger behind an impersonal smile. ‘But now that I’ve revealed myself, do you suppose I might have an answer?’

  Her hands were shaking and, when she came to her feet, she discovered that her knees were too. She felt sick and very, very cold. It was time to step from her precipice and go hurtling down into the abyss; time to give the rebel bastard in front of her the satisfaction of hearing her eat her words.

  All she had to do was say yes. It shouldn’t be difficult … but it was. The word was sticking in her throat because, deep down inside, she knew that this was the point where she ought to tell him about Ellis. Not mentioning the money, was one thing; not mentioning the fact that she wasn’t a virgin was quite another. But telling him gave him a hold over her … a lever she didn’t want him to have because there was no saying how he might use it. Worse still, if she told him now, it gave him the perfect excuse to withdraw his proposal … and that couldn’t be allowed to happen.

  ‘Well?’ prompted Gabriel, thoroughly tired of waiting.

  Concentrating on keeping her voice level, she said, ‘Why not? It would be a shame to keep my mother in unnecessary suspense. And, as you say, I’ve already had long enough in which to think about it.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I’ll marry you,’ came the bald, ungracious reply. ‘For the sake of my family, I can’t do anything else – and we both know it. There is, however, one condition.’

  A lead weight was settling in Gabriel’s chest.

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘That you never, ever expect me to betray my friends or forsake my cause in favour of yours. I may be forced to marry you – but I despise both the Parliament and the Army in equal measure. And it would be stupid of you to try and change that.’

  He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment and reflected that, if stipulations were to be made, he could think of one or two more useful ones. He said, ‘I am unlikely to waste my energy trying to change anything about you, Mistress – and I think it’s true to say that I have no expectations of you whatsoever. But there is one thing I demand; and that is some small show of civility in front of others. I trust I make myself quite clear?’

  Her lip curled scornfully. ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘I’m glad. Because if you forget it, I am very much afraid that you may not care for the consequences.’ He smiled blandly. ‘And no, I am not threatening to beat you. I’m merely warning you that I won’t tolerate being insulted in public. It would clearly be pointless to ask you to mind your manners in general.’

  For the first time, Venetia found the look in his eye slightly worrying. She had never previously doubted her ability to keep this baseborn upstart in his place; now, however, she had a sudden nasty feeling that it might not be quite as easy as she’d thought. When he chose to let it show, there was an implacability about him that spoke of concealed power and strength of will. On the other hand, he plainly disliked her … and the fact that he was demanding courtesy rather than an heir was encouraging. So pushing her misgivings to a distant corner of her mind and smiling back with acidulous kindness, she said, ‘Don’t worry. After spending four years in the Queen’s household, I think I can safely promise that it won’t be my manners that show you up.’

  Gabriel ignored the temptation to remark that, since he too knew better than to scratch, spit or fart in public, it wouldn’t be his either.

  ‘Good. And now that we understand each other so well, perhaps we’d better set a date for our wedding. Will the last Monday in the month suit you? At least that avoids the necessity of us having to spend Christmas together.’

  ‘According to your friends at Westminster, Christmas no longer exists,’ came the bitter reply. ‘But yes. I suppose that day is as good as any other. Here in our own chapel – and as quietly as possible.’

  ‘Naturally.’ It was the Colonel’s turn to look satirical. ‘I’ll speak to the local clergyman, inform Sir Robert’s lawyer and leave the rest to you. That way we need not meet again until the day itself.’ He picked up his hat. ‘And now I’ll relieve you of my unwelcome presence.’

  Mention of Lawyer Crisp sent alarm feathering down Venetia’s neck but she hid it and said, ‘Not yet, you won’t. First you have to go and make my mother’s day by formally asking for my hand.’

  His brows rose.

  ‘You want me to realise that your mother considers me rather lower on the social scale than her cook? Don’t bother. I already know it.’

  ‘You misunderstand.’ Smiling grimly, Venetia crossed back towards both him and the door. ‘As long as Ford Edge is returned to us and she doesn’t actually have to have you living in the house, you could be a hunchback from the gutter. So go and tell her that all her cares are over. I am going to change my dress.’

  Back in the parlour, Gabriel found that her ladyship had used the intervening time to surround herself with her entire family. Elizabeth occupied the window-seat, Phoebe prowled restlessly about the hearth and the erstwhile bishop sat near his sister with his nose in a book. All of them impaled him with their eyes as soon as he entered the room and each female face expressed differing degrees of anxiety.

  No one spoke. And because Gabriel had not expected to have to do this at all – let alone in front of an audience – he simply fixed Lady Clifford with an austere grey gaze and said curtly, ‘Your daughter and I have agreed to be married on the 27th of this month. I trust that meets with your approval.’

  Her ladyship gave an involuntary gasp of relief and Elizabeth’s beautiful blue eyes filled with sudden tears. Alone of them all, only Phoebe looked directly at him in that all-important moment. Crossing to his side, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  ‘It will be all right,’ she murmured comfortingly. ‘Once it’s done, Venetia will get back to being her old self. You’ll see. And though I can’t do much to make things better, I can at least be your friend. If you’ll let me.’

  *

  In the taproom of the inn, Gabriel found Mr Larkin staring gloomily into the bottom of an ale-pot.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve been enjoying yourself,’ remarked Gabriel in a close approximation of his usual tone. ‘But is that the best entertainment this town can offer?’

  ‘It’ll do me,’ replied Wat, looking up. ‘She accepted you, then.’ It was not a question.

  ‘Yes.’ Gabriel pulled off his gloves and stood frowning down at them. ‘But not graciously.’

  ‘What else did you expect?’ As always, abrasiveness covered deep concern. ‘So what are you going to do now?’

  Lightless eyes rose to meet his and the lean mouth twisted in something not quite a smile.

  ‘Get drunk?’ suggested the Colonel.

  *

  On the following morning, with his temples still pounding, Gabriel sallied forth to inform Mr Crisp of his impending marriage. The little lawyer received him with a caution which eventually became circumspect pleasure; and because Gabriel had scant interest in money beyond having enough of it to meet his basic needs, he did not ask the one question which might have substantially altered the tenor of their meeting. Mr Crisp saw him out with suitable politeness and satisfaction … and Gabriel set off through the first flakes of snow to visit his Aunt Sophia at Brandon Lacey.

  Surrounded by Trixie, Trixie’s three remaining offspring and no less than five cats, Sophia welcomed him into the parlour with her usual sweet smile and not a trace of surprise. Then, when she had settled him into a chair with a
glass of wine, she said, ‘I’m glad you’ve come. Perhaps you know if turnips are a good thing or not?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Turnips,’ she repeated. ‘Dick Carter is an excellent bailiff but he will persist in consulting me – and I’ve no idea at all about what crops would be best planted where or when.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ he returned dryly.

  ‘Oh dear. Haven’t you?’ For a moment, she looked nonplussed. Then, brightening, ‘But I daresay you’ll soon learn. And, in the meantime, I’m sure you’ll manage to appear knowledgeable. It’s what men do, isn’t it?’

  He laughed.

  ‘Some men, perhaps. But in my profession, the fellow who makes decisions without really knowing what he’s doing doesn’t tend to live long.’ He paused for a moment; then, with a trace of awkwardness, said, ‘I have a number of things to tell you but, before I do, I would like to make it clear that I regard this house as your home – not mine. And, during the brief occasions when I’m forced to reside here, I shall take every care not to intrude upon you.’

  For several seconds, Sophia’s short-sighted brown eyes stared at a point just in front of his face. Then she said pensively, ‘Well, that’s highly commendable, of course … but it all sounds very disagreeable. Unless you’re just not fond of animals? I do try to keep them out of the house… but since Robert died there hasn’t been much incentive.’

  The Colonel looked back at her somewhat uncertainly.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with the animals, Mistress Brandon. I was merely attempting to reassure you.’

  ‘You need not,’ she smiled. ‘But I do wish you’d call me Sophy. After all, you can’t go on addressing me formally – and ‘aunt’ would sound rather silly.’

  Since she was probably no more than a dozen years his senior, he thought it would sound extremely silly. And because her uncritical acceptance of him was as warming as it was unexpected, he smiled reluctantly back and said, ‘Sophy, then. And thank you.’

  She shook her head and attempted to recapture the rose silk shawl that was sliding off one elbow.

  ‘You’re very unhappy, aren’t you? Why don’t you pour us both some more wine and tell me about it.’