"No, why ever should I be? You are perfectly at liberty to come and go as you choose. With whom you choose. Truly, I have had a lovely time."
He watched as she dusted a hare's-foot across her dainty nose, and said in a reluctant, halting fashion, "You are entitled to an explanation, and—"
"Oh, pray do not fret over so insignificant a thing. I thought it most considerate in you to give me a time to settle down. In fact—" she opened her jewel box and peered inside, saying carelessly, "I had thought you might not return for several weeks. Would you mind if—"
The door smashed open. Brutus flung himself across the room. Caught by surprise, Strand was sent hurtling back onto the balcony.
For a very brief instant Lisette's heart leapt into her mouth. Then she heard the muffled explosion of swearing and, amused, hastened to survey the victim and the prancing delirium of his pet.
"Blast your ears!" Strand roared, fighting off the ecstatic dog. "Down, sir! Down, I say! No—not on me, curse you!"
Succeeding at last in extricating himself, he clambered to his feet, glared at his bride's smile, and demanded, "What in the devil is he doing here?"
"He was a gift," Lisette said sweetly, bending the truth a little. "Lord Bolster came and was—a trifle shocked, I suspect. To find me here all alone, you know." Glancing obliquely at Strand, she saw his lips tighten, and added, "He thought Brutus might protect me." She raised limpid eyes to her husband and purred, "So thoughtful."
"And quite unnecessary. You are safe here. I will return Brutus this afternoon."
"It is kind in you to offer. But if you do not object, Strand, I shall keep him. I doubt it is as safe here as you may think. And besides, when you are away on your—er—affairs, he will be company for me."
Frowning into that angelic face, Strand's fists clenched. "I do object. He goes back. This afternoon. Do you feel the need of a dog, ma'am, I'll buy you one."
"But, sir, one cannot buy love. Or loyalty."
The barbs went home. Strand thought, She marshals a strong counter-attack, and he bowed, saying nothing.
Lisette shrugged and turned away. "However, if you must— you must. Now, will you please pardon me whilst I change for luncheon?"
He walked over to the door, and was about to open it when she called gently, "Shall you be home for dinner, sir? I only ask because the Vicar and the Misses Hepplethwaite are to dine here and play some whist afterwards, and I possibly should warn them you will join us."
The prospect was not enthralling. "I doubt I shall be home," he said, opening the door. "It's a long ride to Three Fields."
And a pointless one! she thought jubilantly.
Chapter 8
Lisette underestimated her husband. Although he did not mean to share the early evening's entertainment, Justin Strand had not the slightest intention of spending another night away from his bride. His return to his ancestral estate was not a propitious one, however. Before he was halfway home, it was raining hard. Brutus was afraid of storms, and when a sudden flash of lightning was followed by a great boom of thunder, he sprang onto the seat beside Strand and did his destructive best to dig his way underneath him. Strand was cold, furiously angry, and very tired. He allowed the edge of his rage to break over the burrowing dog, but was interrupted when the powerful animal's claws gouged his thigh. Instinctively jerking away, Strand lost ground and found himself unable to lower his knee save over Brutus. Snarling curses, he moved to the other side of the carriage. It was hopeless. The dog hurtled at him. Without the aid of two strong men it was doubtful the brute could be ejected from the carriage, and Strand had no intention of either sitting on Brutus or allowing the animal to sit on him. He draped a corner of his cloak over the shivering monster and favoured him with a succinct evaluation of his ancestors.
"I am sure you are aware, you miserable excuse for a watchdog, that I was thoroughly gulled today," he observed grimly. "My lady wife did not see fit to explain that she had promised to care for your revolting self while Bolster is away. She was certainly aware I'd not have the gall to dump such a plague on his lordship's servants. I have driven in excess of forty miles, Sir Shivershakes, to no purpose. But there will be an accounting! I promise you!"
Brutus quailed, whining heartrendingly, then sat up, eyeing his master in so frantic a way that Strand feared a resumption of the earlier chaos. He at once moderated his tone and at last was permitted the luxury of sitting peacefully, listening to the rain between Brutus's resounding snores.
It was half-past twelve when the carriage splashed into the stableyard, and the house was dark. He would light it, Strand thought mercilessly. Had it not been for his implacable resolve to spend the night with his bride and also to demand an accounting of her savage duplicity, he would have racked up for the night at the first tavern he'd come to and allowed Brutus to quake under the hay in the stables. Without an instant spent repining the disturbed slumbers of the inhabitants, he instructed his coachman to blow up a hail on his yard of tin. As a result, by the time he was climbing down the steps lights were already appearing in the windows of the long house beside the stables where the grooms and outside servants dwelt.
Best came staggering into the barn, dragging a coat over his nightshirt. "Welcome—" he began, then stopped, one glance at Strand's face freezing the words on his lips.
"Get that hound of Satan out of the carriage!" snarled Strand.
Fisher, hurrying from the side door of the Hall, holding up an umbrella, said a concerned, "Good heavens, sir! You must be tired out!"
"Ain't no dog in here, sir," called Best, puzzled.
"We may hope he is well on his way back to Three Fields!" Strand said acidly.
Twenty minutes later, his hair brushed, his new red velvet robe tied over his nightshirt, and vengeance in his heart, he marched across his bedchamber and flung wide the connecting door to his bride's suite. The parlour was empty and dark. Pacing across it, he threw open Lisette's door. There was no light save for the flames still flickering in the fireplace, but by that faint glow he saw Lisette leap up in bed. She wore a filmy nightgown of some indeterminate pale colour, her cap was lopsided, and her eyes huge with fright. Retribution, he thought ragefully, was upon her. "Good morning, ma'am," he gritted. "I came home after all, you see."
He took three long strides towards the bed and the white-faced girl who trembled there.
Brutus had not essayed the long journey back to Three Fields, for he was decidedly a creature of habit. He was, besides, just dozing off, and did not hear the man's approach until Strand was almost on him, whereupon he sprang up hurriedly.
The result was unfortunate.
"Nothing to worry about, dear lady," Dr. Bellows uttered reassuringly, as he closed the door upon his recalcitrant patient and accompanied the bride (whom he privately thought to be exquisite) along the hall.
He has arrived in direct violation of Strand's orders and, walking into the book room where his patient was stubbornly attempting to read the morning paper, had announced a jovial, "Well, here's old Bellows-to-mend again, Justin. What now have you been up to, dear boy?''
Strand had groaned and covered his eyes with his left hand, whereupon Dr. Bellows had pounced upon the right and grasped it, drawing a shout from his patient and an instinctive flinch from Lisette. "Hmmm," he said mildly. "Something broken in here, I think. D'you have any idea how many bones there are in the human hand, Justin? No, of course you don't, for I keep forgetting you've a head of solid wood."
Surprised, Lisette had darted a glance at him, to find his face suddenly angry. She had been more surprised to see her husband colour hotly, drop his eyes, and endure in silence a careful but undoubtedly unpleasant examination.
When he had gone crashing down in the darkened room, Lisette, for one panicked moment, had fancied herself an early widow. He had soon sprung to his feet, however, and snarling hideous threats had raced into the hall after the fleeing Brutus. Fearing for the dog's survival, Lisette had followed, only to find Stra
nd leaning against the wall, clutching his arm and looking white and exhausted. "Well, and is your revenge adequate, ma'am?" he'd asked unevenly. His fall was, she knew, only a trifling matter compared to the indignity she had been made to suffer. Nonetheless, she was not an unkind girl, and to see his eyes narrowed with pain had so wrought upon her that she had required Fisher to send a groom galloping at once for the family doctor. Strand had protested vigorously, but Fisher, being both fond of his employer and delighted by the bride, had not heeded him. Not a little frightened by both the accident and her husband's wrath, Lisette decided to play the part of the dutiful wife, which role she had since nobly maintained.
Now, she asked, "Then, there is nothing broken after all?" and wondered why, if that were so, the doctor had made such a fuss, insisting that her husband take to his bed so that the arm could be properly splinted and placed in a sling.
"To the contrary, I suspect several small bones may be either fractured or broken," Bellows said. "Shame it's his right hand. There'll be no keeping him inactive for long, even so. Still, for the time being he must stay quiet, ma'am. I cannot get laudanum down him, but I'll leave you these powders. Three a day in a glass of water. They taste foul, so he'll make a great fuss. But it will keep him quiet, at least. A very light diet, if you please, and I will come back tomorrow to see how he goes on. No need to show me out, m'dear. I know me way."
She expressed her intention of obeying his instructions implicitly and returned to the bedchamber.
Strand had already been subjected to one of the powders and lay watching her with a drowsy but irked look on his thin face. His hair was rumpled, and in the white nightshirt with his bandaged arm strapped across his chest, he looked rather astonishingly youthful and defenceless.
Discovering that Brutus panted beside the bed, Lisette knew a pang of guilt and said, "I am indeed sorry that you have had so much distress, sir. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"
"You can take out that revolting animal and shoot it," he muttered malevolently.
"But of course. I do not know what Lord Bolster will think of so flagrant a violation of my given word. But I must henceforth be guided by my husband in all things. Including—conduct." His eyes sharpened predictably, and she said with sweet martyrdom, "I should not wish to inflict such a task on Best, for he is so kind a man. Perhaps I could do it. I have watched my brother shoot at Manton's, so I am not afraid of handling a pistol."
"Are you not? I shall have to remember that," he drawled thoughtfully. Lisette being unable to restrain a dimple, he stared at it, then growled, "You may well laugh, madam wife. The fact remains you've not yet begun to know that curst brute's habits! I was never so glad as to be rid of him, and I count it downright treacherous of you to saddle me with him again. He is a pest, ma'am. He eats like a horse, is totally unreliable as a guard, snores like a volcano, and—"
"And seems most fond of you, sir," Lisette put in meekly.
"Which verifies his stupidity, else he would comprehend that I cannot abide him."
"Yes, but he might more easily comprehend that fact were you to stop caressing him."
Strand glanced to the side and hurriedly snatched back the hand that had been absently fondling Brutus. "I—er… had not realized…"
"Of course, you are half asleep. I will remove him and take care he does not disturb you again." She moved closer to bend over him and seeing the look of shocked disbelief, enquired, "May I smooth your pillows?"
Strand's eyes were becoming positively heavy, but he propped himself on one elbow as Lisette plumped his pillows. "I wish," he yawned, lying back, "you would allow me… to…"
"Go to sleep," she adjured, and led Brutus from the room.
Strand lay quietly for a moment after the door closed behind her. Then he withdrew his left hand from beneath the eiderdown. For a long moment he gazed at the object he grasped. A small square of fine lawn, edged with dainty lace. He raised it to his lips and breathed the sweet fragrance of it. Awkwardly, he sat up and with painful care placed his prize in the drawer of his bedside table. Then he settled back down and went to sleep.
Dr. Bellows appeared to exert a powerful influence upon his patient, and for the two days following, Strand meekly submitted to lying abed, swallowing the noxious drugs and drowsing the hours away. By the third day he was beginning to grumble, however, and by the fourth, he was up and about. Coming downstairs at ten o'clock, Lisette was shocked to see him stride in at the front doors wearing riding dress, and arguing with a clerical-appearing individual regarding the benefits of allowing the south field to lie fallow for a season.
"Oh, there you are, my dear," he said, flashing Lisette an impudent grin. "This is my steward, Connaught. Connie—my wife. Now, I'm not at all pleased by the look of things at Silverings. The boat dock is downright rotted and must be attended to at once if we're not to lose the whole this winter. Mrs. Strand, would you please ask Fisher to step in here? As for-—"
"No," said Lisette clearly.
A sparkle came into Mr. Connaught's faded brown eyes. Strand's head turned to his wife. Startled, he exclaimed, "Eh?"
"May I ask what you are about, sir?" She folded her hands and regarded him with cool disapproval. "Dr. Bellows said you were not to—"
He laughed. "Oh, you mustn't pay too much heed to our' Bellows-to-mend. He's a good enough old fellow, but a regular gloom merchant. I'm doing splendidly. I've kept my arm in this confounded sling for—"
"Three days," she nodded. "Dr. Bellows said three weeks—at least."
"Nonsense. A far too conservative estimate, m'dear. I'll be fully restored long before that. Give you my word."
His eyes held a mocking glint. Lisette blushed and retreated, but at the door she turned back. "Did you have a nice ride, Strand?"
"Very nice. I shall roust you out soon, ma'am, for there's something I must show you."
"It shall have to wait, sir. I must insist there be no more riding today." Strand looked astounded, and she turned to his amused steward. "I am sure you understand, Mr. Connaught, that the master's recovery must not be impaired."
The gleam brighter than ever in his eyes, Mr. Connaught bowed and said he certainly understood. In fact, he was only going to stay another minute or two.
"Thank you," said Lisette. "That would be considerate in you."
Staring at the door as it closed behind her, Strand muttered, "Well, I'll be damned…"
"Nothing like having a lady around the house, is there, sir?" asked Mr. Connaught. "Especially so lovely a lady as your own."
Strand was silent for a long moment. Then, "No," he said slowly. "Nothing."
In the hall, Lisette encountered Mr. Fisher, winding the grandfather clock that stood at the foot of the stairs in the wide entrance foyer. "Good morning, Fisher," she said, captivating him with her smile. "Could you tell me, please, has there never been a music room in the house?"
"Years ago there was, madam," he answered, closing the clock with care. "It annoyed Mr. Rupert to hear practising, so the instruments were all moved into the children's room."
"The children's room?" Moved by a sly impulse, she asked, "Oh, is that at Silverings?"
"No, madam. Mr. Rupert never cared for Silverings, though it had at one time a quite splendid music room."
So Silverings belonged to the Strands. "I see. But my husband is fond of the place, I believe."
"Very fond. Would you wish to see the children's room, madam?''
Lisette indicating an interest, Fisher led her outside, past the barn and through a shrubbery having in the centre a cleared space in which stood what looked like an enclosed summer house. Unlocking the door, he said, "Shall I wait, madam? Or would you care to stay for a time?"
"I would. Thank you."
Left alone, she wandered about curiously. The room was surprisingly spacious and well kept up. In addition to chairs and tables, there was a small pianoforte which she soon determined was in excellent tune, a harp, a mandolin, and a case h
olding a fine violin. She sat at the piano and played for a while, well pleased with its tone and action. She did not turn when the door was softly opened, guessing that Strand had come seeking her, but when he did not speak a sudden unease caused her to spin around on the stool. She gave a gasp of shock. James Garvey stood in the doorway, smiling fondly at her. He swept off his curly-brimmed beaver and bowed low. "At last!" he breathed, coming quickly into the room and closing the door behind him.
"Oh, my poor creature. How wan you look! Does he ill-treat you?"
"Wh-whatever are you doing here? Mr. Garvey, I—"
"James—I beg! Just to hear it on your lips!"
"Oh, James, then. You must be mad! Does my husband know you are here?"
He shrugged, stepping closer to regard her with eyes aglow with adoration. "How could he? I understand he is confined to his bed after a small accident. I rushed here at once, to console you."
"Good gracious!" she exclaimed, walking around him to the door. "You are not very well acquainted with my husband, sir, else you would know he is scarcely the type to remain in bed."
Her hand on the doorknob was restrained as his own closed over it. "Lisette, my goddess of beauty, stay a moment, I implore you. All these weeks I have been desolate."
She said with asperity, "If my husband finds us alone here, Mr. Garvey, we are liable to be a good deal more than desolate. Now, you must please leave before—"
"Not yet! Do you suppose I rode all this way to be frightened off by the likes of Justin Strand?" He carried her hand to his lips despite her efforts to free it and, gazing down at her, murmured, "I love you still. You are everything feminine—everything pure and lovely. My adored Lisette, when may I see you? Can you get away from him? Could you come to—"
The door opened suddenly. Lisette gave a little squeak of fright and wrenched her hand free. Garvey turned lazily, quizzing glass upraised and a mocking smile on his lips. "Oh, but how very embarrassing," said he.
Charity Strand stood on the threshold. "M-my—my apologies!" she gasped, and fled.
Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption Page 13