"Perhaps." He took up a macaroon and held it to her lips. "But you were, like Wellington's rope, about to break. So I tied a knot. You shall not disgrace me again, madam wife."
Raging, she opened her mouth to retaliate, but he popped the entire macaroon into her mouth, then watched with revolting admiration as she struggled to cope gracefully, her indignation effectively silenced.
The musicale ended, but for Lisette and Strand the masquerade had barely begun. Day after day their deception was enacted at dinner parties, routs, ridottos, and balls. They wined and dined and danced until the early morning, went home to snatch a few hours of sleep, then were up again and off to ride in the park. The days were a whirl of morning calls and callers, shopping or walks, luncheons, afternoon card parties, soirees, or concerts, and then home to put on their evening finery once more.
Strand seemed tireless, turning his mocking grin on Lisette if she dared commence a yawn, so that she would open her sleepy eyes very wide and fight to conceal her exhaustion. After ten days of this, she was so tired that when he ushered her into her bedchamber one night, she murmured a numbed, "Thank you, my dear one," and was mortified when he chuckled, "Oho, what a faux pas! We are quite alone, ma'am!"
"Whatever the words, sir," she said loftily, "my feelings remain the same. As do yours for me."
She stole a glance at him from under her lashes and saw a sadness come into his eyes. "What a pity it is," he said slowly, "that we cannot deal together better than this."
Lisette shrugged and strolled over to remove her earrings. When she looked up, he had gone, and she sat there, her shoulders slumping, tired and dispirited. She no longer carried Garvey's poem in her bosom, for she found of late that it was difficult to meet Strand's eyes when she did so. Now, she went to the drawer where her handkerchiefs were kept, and unearthed it from beneath the pile. Once again, the words brought a deep sigh, a yearning for the might-have-been. Replacing it slowly, she wondered if James still cared for her, if he sat somewhere in the great city at this very moment, breaking his heart for her…
Her gaze drifted down the little column of handkerchiefs, all neatly ironed, their lace edges so daintily feminine. She did not at once discern the handkerchief Grandmama had fashioned for her—the last one she had crocheted before gout made it too difficult for her poor hands. Dear Grandmama had been used to make such exquisite lace. Because of her love for the old lady, that handkerchief was particularly dear to Lisette's heart. She began to search, but without success. Surely she had not lost it? Upset, she started for the bell pull, but it was almost three o'clock, she could not disturb Denise at this hour. She would ask her about it in the morning.
The next morning, however, all thought of the missing handkerchief was banished when Lisette awoke to a subdued murmur of activity. For a moment she lay drowsing, then it came to her that others were already stirring. She sat up with a start and snatched up the little porcelain clock from the table beside her bed. Half-past nine! With a gasp, she tugged on the bell pull and flung back the curtains of the bed. She was halfway to the window when the door opened and Strand strode in, booted and spurred. He marched past her, threw open the heavy curtains to admit a flood of sunlight, and turning to her said briskly, "So you're awake at last, ma'am!"
She drew herself up. She prided herself on not once having been late since her first initiation into his heathen custom of rising with the dawn. "I wonder you did not come and haul me out of my bed," she said regally.
His eyes flickered over the revealing nightgown she wore. "It would have been worth it, at that," he nodded. "But I judged you needed your sleep since we return to Sussex today."
Scurrying for a wrapper, Lisette pulled it closer about her. "You might have had the common courtesy to tell me!" she expostulated. "There were things I wished to purchase before we returned to the Hall!"
He frowned. "My apologies. I'd not decided until the day dawned fine. Can you send your maid for what you want? We can delay until eleven, but I would prefer to leave as soon as possible." The door again opened, and Denise started in, then paused uncertainly. Strand added a gentle, "Will that suit, my love?"
Lisette motioned to Denise to enter. "Of course," she purred. "I can scarce wait to get back to the country again. I'll be as quick as I can, dear."
He stared down at her, then suddenly bent, and pulling her to him, kissed her full on the mouth. For an odd moment, surprise had the effect of making Lisette feel giddy, so that she instinctively flung her arms about his neck, to keep from losing her balance. He released her, but his head remained down-bent, his lips very close as he gazed into her eyes with an ineffable tenderness. Then, the quirk touching his mouth for the first time since his confrontation with Garvey, he murmured, "How's that for acting, ma'am?"
Breathless, she answered, "Not… markedly amateurish, sir."
He nodded. "Probably out of practice."
A few subsequent discussions with Lord Wetherby had caused Strand to entertain second thoughts regarding the scope of their nautical undertaking. As a result, he'd sent an urgent letter round to Ryder Street, inviting the unsuspecting Bolster to accompany them back into Sussex. His lordship joined them shortly before they were to depart, and although Strand felt obliged to divulge the trap into which he had walked, Bolster was far from being dismayed and, in fact, welcomed the prospect of some hard work.
They set forth, the men riding, Lisette and Judith occupying the chaise, and the servants and the luggage following in a large travelling carriage. The little cavalcade enjoyed good weather for as far as Croydon, where they stopped to take luncheon at the Red Griffin. Before they left the famous old posting house, a few dark clouds had managed to spread over the entire sky and it began to rain. The gentlemen therefore decided to complete the journey inside the chaise. Always the best of companions, Bolster started a round tale in an effort to entertain the younger occupants of the vehicle. He had become comparatively at ease with them, so that he stuttered less, and having quite a flair for comedy had them all chuckling at his first chapter. Looking around at their amused faces, he said, "Chapter Two!" and pointed at Judith. Delighted, that damsel indulged her flair for the dramatic so that from a light love story it became full of gloom, dungeons, and sinister figures slinking about, wrapped in dark cloaks. Norman was selected as the next story-teller, and he launched with gusto into Chapter Three, whereupon the principal Evil Tyrant, Baron Klug, became very evil indeed, pursuing a fair and innocent clergyman's daughter, causing Sir Roderick, the gallant young hero, a great deal of misery, and bringing him at length into the very shadow of the guillotine.
"Lisette!" ordered Bolster.
"Oooh! Do hurry!" cried Judith eagerly. "I can scarce wait to hear what happens next!"
Lisette decreed that the innocent clergyman's daughter had not been standing idly by whilst all this was going on. She had, in fact, by means of an alluring disguise, gained admission to the dungeons where languished the hero's brave friends, and had so captivated the gaolers that she was allowed to take water to the miserable captives.
"An enterprising lass," murmured Strand. "Perhaps she's not quite as innocent as we thought!"
This brought a laugh from Norman and, from Judith, a scold not to interrupt.
Continuing with her chapter, Lisette said, "One by one, Isabelle lured the guards into the cell where they were swiftly and silently overcome by the prisoners. Seizing the weapons of their former captors, Roderick's friends also exchanged their poor rags for the fine uniforms the guards wore. Then, marching boldly into the square, they forced their way through the ululating mob to—"
"The—what mob?" Strand interrupted curiously.
"Ululating," said Lisette with a defiant stare.
"What does that mean?"
"You know perfectly well what it means! And if you spoil my—"
"Oh, never mind," Norman put in impatiently. "It means howling, Justin."
"Thank you," said Strand. "I likely forgot the expression whilst I
was in India. Cannot recall it was widely used over there."
"From what I had heard," said Lisette, trying to restrain a smile, "you should have heard lots of ululating. You must have been in a very dull part."
"Then cheer him up with the rest of this exciting story!" wailed Judith.
"The—er—ululating mob…" prompted Strand.
"Oh, yes. Isabelle made her way to the guillotine just as poor Roderick's head was forced onto the block. Baron Klug's hand was upraised in the signal. The great blade glittered in the torchlight, and then Isabelle's knife sliced Roderick's bonds, and he sprang to his feet even as the blade of the guillotine came crashing down. 'Hold!' cried the Evil Tyrant, and—"
The cry of the Evil Tyrant woke Bolster, who had dozed off in the warm carriage. Feeling very remiss in his duties, he yelped, "Chapter Five—Strand!"
"Good heavens!" cried Strand. "Shoddy Rick flung—"
"Roderick!" Lisette corrected sternly, over Bolster's hilarity.
"My apologies, m'dear. Roderick flung up his knife. The Evil Tyrant's sword flashed to meet it. And there on the gallows with the crowd hushed and silent about them, they fought; the blades hissing and ringing as they engaged, the two men striving in a desperate fight to the death, the crowd—a sea of upturned faces— lit by the torches' glare. And then gallant Roderick slipped on the uneven flooring of the scaffold. With a great sweep of his sword, the Evil Tyrant sent the dagger spinning from Roderick's hand. The hilt of Klug's sword flashed upwards and caught brave Roderick beneath the chin. Down he went, like a sack of meal upon the boards. A mighty roar went up from the breathless crowd, and—"
"Hey, wait up!" cried Bolster, who had become interested. "You've got th-things all wrong, old fella."
"I have not," said Strand, affronted. "It's my part of the story. I can do as I please, can't I, Norman?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"But what became of poor Isabelle?" asked Judith anxiously.
Strand took up Lisette's hand and kissed it. "Oh," he said, "she married the Evil Tyrant. It is the way of real life, you know, Judith." He turned to his wife and, remarking the dimple that swiftly vanished, asked with his teasing grin, "Ain't that right, beloved?"
With perfect justification, Lisette refused an answer.
Chapter 14
Strand Hall was gleamingly impressive in the late afternoon sunlight. Mrs. Hayward and Fisher came out onto the porch to greet the family and welcome his lordship, and Brutus went quite berserk, rushing from one owner to the other, barking madly, and leaping about, succeeding in muddying everyone until Strand cowed him with a firm "Down!" Despite the warm welcome they were accorded, Strand was quick to note the trace of worry in the eyes of both his butler and housekeeper. Rumour, he realized, had spread on the usual lightning links between servants' halls, and his people likely were aware of everything that had transpired in London.
Since the supplies for the boat venture were to be delivered at Silverings, the men left directly after breakfast the following day to supervise the unloading. Returning to the drawing room after watching them ride off, Lisette asked Judith what Miss Wallace had said of her various lengths of material.
"Oh, she thought it very well done," Judith said happily. "We were to start on the beige wool half-dress today, but I neglected to buy the braid, so we'll likely make up the pink velvet instead."
"I am sorry, dearest! That wretched Strand! He rushed us so, I knew we would forget something."
"No, but he has been so good." Judith slipped an arm about her as they started to the stairs. "I often think how he has changed all our lives. Can you credit the difference in my brother? I wonder Strand can bear it, he pesters him so."
"He does?"
"Why, yes. Have you not noticed how Norman trails after him? He has taken your husband for his model, I suspect, and I doubt could have found a finer one." Slanting an oblique glance at her sister, Judith read surprise in that lovely face, and added hurriedly, "Norman fairly badgered Strand to hurry our leaving yesterday, so we can scarce blame the poor man that I did not have time to purchase my braid."
Lisette pondered those words in the morning when she began to sort through the correspondence she'd not had time to attend to the previous day. She had not known their hurried departure had been the result of her brother's manoeuvrings, and wished she had not scolded Strand so. Still, Judith might find less to admire in her brother-in-law did she know he beat his wife! And afterwards made not the slightest attempt to woo her forgiveness. The only time he'd really kissed her since the spanking episode had been in her bedchamber yesterday morning, and that only to impress Denise. The abigail had immediately left, of course, but her merry eyes had later conveyed quite clearly that she had seen that warm embrace. Lisette blushed a little as she remembered the touch of Strand's lips, the strong hands gripping her shoulders. How wonderful to be kissed like that by someone who really cared; how wonderful if so sweet a caress was followed by words of passionate adoration, instead of being quizzically asked if her husband's acting was adequate… Did he treat his blond bird of paradise so? Or was there no need to act with that lady? She frowned and tore an invitation to fragments without first having read it. He would doubtless have again sought out his peculiar had he not been so busied with convincing all London Town that he adored his bride. Now that they were back in Sussex, however, he would probably lose no time in going to her. Lisette scowled at the torn scraps of paper between her fingers. Was that why he had offered to help Norman work on the boat? She'd thought it an excessively kind gesture, but perhaps it was merely a means to leave his wife while he consoled his amour. If truth be told, Strand actually meant to spend very little time at—
"Your pardon, madam," murmured the lackey, carrying in a calling card.
Lisette whirled on him. "What is it?" she snapped.
The lackey blinked, and made a rapid readjustment of his private opinion that Mrs. Strand was as calm and gentle as she was lovely.
A picnic was prepared the following morning, the girls having indicated an interest in viewing the efforts of the amateur shipbuilders. Two hampers were loaded into the chaise, together with the kitchen maid who was to preside over the feast. Her qualifications were evidently questionable, for no sooner were the hampers installed than Brutus leapt into the vehicle. The maid's resultant hysteria alarmed the animal, but did not undermine his guarding instincts. As a result, demands to "get out at once!" were met with a craven crouch and much whining, but a marked disinclination to obey. Bolster, feeling responsible for the dog's behaviour, volunteered to ride in the chaise and protect the maid, an excitable French emigree who was niece to the cook and quite sure she would be devoured was "the beast énorme" not allowed into the hamper. Strand said with some heat that no servant or guest of his was going to be inconvenienced by a confounded bacon-brained mongrel, but his preparations to oust the dog brought forth nervous protests from the ladies, while the maid declared she was about to fall into a fit. Outnumbered, he abandoned the effort and they started off, only an hour later than had been originally intended.
The day was misty but with a promise of brightness that materialized to warm sunshine by the time they reached Silverings. Once again, Lisette's heart lightened when they dismounted before the ruins, and Judith, who had not previously visited the estate, was enraptured and roamed about eagerly, exploring and admiring. The supplies for the boat renovations had been stored in the barn, together with the Silvering Sails, just now looking like nothing so much as a derelict fit only for firewood. Lisette said as much, but her brother indignantly proclaimed that the "old lady" was perfectly seaworthy and that a few repairs and new paint and varnish would work wonders with her.
"But it is enormous!" said Judith dubiously.
"It!" Norman snorted. "She, Judith! She!"
"Whether an 'it' or a 'she,' the fact remains that you have, as usual, bitten off much more than you can chew, brother dearest!"
"Pooh! Nonsense! Strand and I will have
it done in the wink of an eye!"
"Well, we—er—might require some helpers," Strand said cautiously.
"Oh, no!" cried Norman in tragic accents. "I had thought this was our undertaking, Justin. Just the two of us!"
"And m-m-me," Bolster put in aggrievedly.
"Yes. You, of course, Jerry. Strand, never say you mean to import common workmen? Only think, we have Silverings close at hand. Do we decide to work late, we can always stay overnight."
"From the size of your boat," remarked Lisette, watching Strand from under her lashes, "you might be obliged to move down here for a year—or more.'
He considered her with a level, dispassionate gaze and said quietly, "It's an idea, ma'am."
The gentlemen now became extremely occupied with an inspection of the vessel. She was a small yacht but, being shored up, did indeed look enormous in the barn. A flying spark from the fire that had gutted most of the house had ignited her sails, burnt the roof of the cabin, and well scorched the deck and the rails before the fire had been extinguished. The hull was sound, said Norman, but all the woodwork needed refinishing, new masts would have to be fitted, and the cabin rebuilt. The talk here became very technical; Lisette became lost in a discussion of shrouds and jibs and something called "the mizzen." Judith drifted quietly away and, eventually following her example, Lisette wandered into the sunshine.
There was no sign of Judith, but a merry conversation was being conducted in the livable part of the house, so it was likely the girl was inside, talking with the gardener's wife. Lisette started to join them, but a sudden image of a dressing table holding a small bottle of scent rose before her mind's eye, and she decided she did not care to go in just at the moment. Brutus was sitting beside the Dutch door, either guarding the house or the picnic hamper that had been carried there. Lisette sat on a bench for a while, enjoying the sunshine and stroking the dog. He howled when at length she stood and started to walk away, but although she called him and he wriggled eagerly, he could not bring himself to desert his post and sat moaning as she strolled away.
Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption Page 23