"You will not separate them!"
"Not directly. Next year."
It seemed as if Aunt Louisa might fly into a passion, so Jane spoke bluntly. "They will not like it, Aunt, but his lordship is charged with their upbringing."
Aunt Louisa moaned.
"And they must someday live apart," Jane coaxed. "How much harder at eighteen or one-and-twenty than at twelve. Come, Aunt, that event is some time removed. Now they must merely go together an easy two hours' drive from us, and their holidays will bring them home."
Jane grimaced at his lordship, willing him to leave, but he did not take the hint and remained standing obdurately in the middle of the room, like a cactus in a bed of hyacinths.
Presently Lady Meriden so far regained control of herself as to speak. She uttered a number of remarks, the sum of which was that she knew how it would be. She must resign herself to further instances of cruel change, every feeling offended, every comfortable habit overset. Fate, she announced, had never been her friend.
"Fortune was ever a fickle goddess," Meriden replied gently. "However, the twins will soon learn to bear their adversities with fortitude if they are guided by their mother' s example."
Lady Meriden looked thoughtful. Clearly she fancied herself in the rôle of Stoic.
Meriden then spoilt everything by adding that the fickle goddess had also been less than generous to his late father and brother.
"I'm sure I know nothing of that," his stepmama replied with a sniff.
"No, indeed. How should you? Unhappily their ill luck at faro and deep basset must soon have forced them to a much plainer style of living."
"What do you mean?"
"Retrenchment, ma'am. A course I also am required to follow."
"You've already closed the London house."
"Yes," Meriden said baldly. "I propose to close half of this house, also, and to make a number of...No, my lady, pray do not succumb to the vapours until you have heard the whole." He did not raise his voice, but her ladyship, eyes dilated, sat up.
"The whole?"
"Yes. I have dismissed Peavey. He was found to be milking the estate. I believe he has done so for some years. He has taken a number of his accomplices with him, so you need not go through the unpleasant process of reducing your staff much further. If you will direct your housekeeper to close off the state apartments and the long gallery, I think we may go on tolerably well. I have taken steps to reduce the stables and the outdoor staff. Also," he added, descending to a less general plateau of discourse, "I trust that dinners at Meriden will not always take on the proportions of a royal banquet..."
"I required Cook to serve a dinner in keeping with your consequence, sir. If you do not know what is owing to your state, I do. Your dear father..."
"My appetite is not so large as my consequence," Meriden said dryly. "Thank you for the thought, my lady, but a plain style should suit me better."
Lady Meriden burst into offended tears. She compared his lordship unflatteringly with his father and spoke of shabby gentility and cheeseparing ways.
His lordship merely looked satirical. When his stepmother's tirade drew to an end he said, without much evidence of remorse, "I'm sorry my tastes accord so ill with my state, but if I were a famous gourmand, there must still be greater economy in your kitchens." He added thoughtfully, "I believe the change will fall hardest on my sister, Drusilla."
"Would you have us eat husks?" Lady Meriden demanded in thrilling accents, her eyes flashing. Jane could not help thinking her aunt looked magnificent.
"I have never tasted husks," Lord Meriden said with awful politeness. "My man, Thorpe, has a method of roasting green acorns, however, which I can recommend from experience. Shall I direct him to give your cook his receipt?"
Jane flung herself into the breach. Directing a quelling frown at his lordship; she murmured, "Dear Aunt, those of us who know you realise, as Lord Meriden unfortunately cannot, that your mind is above mundane matters. Will you not allow me to take this housekeeping burden from you? Temporarily, of course," she added, for she saw at once that Lady Meriden was about to make a noble and self-sacrificing refusal of help.
"Dear Jane..."
Jane patted her aunt's fluttering hand. "I am sure his lordship would not wish you to exhaust yourself in his behalf." She darted another quelling glance at him, for his lordship's mouth had quirked in a way that suggested he was near laughter. "And you know, Aunt Louisa, Mrs. Pruitt and I deal famously together."
"As you wish," said Lady Meriden in fading accents. "As his lordship wishes."
Jane raised her brows at Meriden. Somewhat to her surprize, he was regarding her with a troubled look in his eyes. She shook her head.
He took a breath. "That's handsome of you, Lady Meriden. And of Miss Ash. I'm sorry I resemble my father so little in my tastes, but I fear I'm past reform."
Aunt Louisa sniffed.
"There must be changes," he went on. "If you will ready the boys for school, I shall try to trouble you as little as possible."
She turned her face away.
For a moment, Meriden stared at her, his mouth set in a stern line. Jane feared he might begin again. At last, however, he merely shrugged and took his leave of her ladyship's purple-shrouded back.
"Has he gone?"
Jane started. "Yes, of course."
"Jane, Jane, whatever shall I do?"
"Compose yourself and try for another strategy," Jane said drily. "I fancy his lordship does not respond well to weeping women."
Lady Meriden raised her hands to her breast. "If he is not moved by a mother's tears..."
"No, he is not, and I must say he's right about the twins. They are utterly beyond Miss Winchell's control. Do not fight him on that head."
"Shall I have to give in to him in all things?"
Jane plucked up her courage. "My dear aunt, no. You possess a handsome competence and may set up your own household whenever you choose."
"But not here!" Lady Meriden wailed.
"No, not here," Jane said steadily. "I don't doubt that it is unfair, for his lordship cannot think of Meriden Place as you do, with affection that comes of living in it. If fortune had been kinder, you need never have seen a stranger in possession."
"Ha!" her aunt sniffed. "For all his prosing about debts and retrenchment, he is glad enough to have been so unjustly elevated."
Jane controlled her impatience. "Lord Meriden's loss is certainly not so great as yours, Aunt Louisa, but I beg of you, do not deal ill with him. He had no hand in either death."
"I did not say so!" Aunt Louisa sat bolt upright.
"Then you must stop reproaching him for existing. He exists. He is here. Wishing will not make it otherwise, and to be constantly setting yourself against his will--indeed, his needs--must turn him from a man minded to serve you and your children into an ogre out of your worst imaginings."
"He cannot serve me!"
"Perhaps not," Jane said drily, "but he can serve Vincent and Felix and Horatio and Arty and little Tom."
"Very well, I shall humble myself."
"No, dear Aunt, that is not in his lordship's style."
"Style! He has no style. And styles himself Lord Meriden--pshaw!"
This flight of wit not surprisingly gave Jane the headache. She said carefully, "Aunt Louisa, he is not like my uncle. Do you wish him to be?"
Lady Meriden stared at her with dilated eyes.
Jane rose and left without ceremony, a thing she had never done. She had said what must seem unforgivable, however true. Because she felt a real affection for her aunt, she also felt some remorse. Even so, she did not turn back to apologise.
In the sanctuary of her own room she wept a little, laughed at herself, and, taking up a sheet of foolscap, set about making a list of directions for the housekeeper to implement. How fortunate that Mrs. Pruitt was both honest and competent. If she had been sent packing, Jane's task would have been much more difficult.
A scratching at the
door interrupted her thoughts.
"Come."
Turvey entered, looking crosser than ever. "His lordship's compliments, miss. When you can spare a moment, he is desirous of speaking with you."
"Very well. In the library?"
Turvey cleared his throat. "I apprehend his lordship has established himself in what was Peavey's office."
"Down the hallway?"
"Aye--that is, yes, miss." Turvey was upset. He liked change as little as his mistress.
Jane did not feel up to soothing him. "Tell Lord Meriden I shall be with him directly."
"Very good, miss." Turvey hesitated. "I beg your pardon, miss. This came for you. Young James mislaid it." He handed her a letter directed in her brother Jack's unformed hand.
A little late, Jack dear, she thought, and laid it aside to be read at leisure.
She sat still a moment, uncertain as to her course of action. She was aware that her offer to take up the reins of household management from her aunt was encroaching, if not improper. No doubt his lordship wished to impart a rebuke. She decided to comport herself as meek and civil as a nun's hen. She entered the former estate office with some uneasiness.
Meriden rose from behind an ugly desk and indicated a chair. Jane had learnt to read amusement in his features, but he was not amused. His thin face presented no emotion she could decipher. She decided to play a waiting game and sat without saying anything.
He remained standing a moment looking down at her, then smiled slightly. "Miss Ash, I find myself at a loss. I did not go to Lady Meriden's salon intending to provoke a battle. Indeed, I'm not perfectly sure how it happened, but I do beg your pardon."
Disarmed, Jane could think of no reply.
He went on cautiously, "It may be that I made an error of procedure. I thought it courtesy to inform her of these changes, for I was sure that she'd want time to give her orders."
"Lord Meriden?"
"Yes."
"My aunt has left the management of the household to Mrs. Pruitt for some years now."
He frowned and sat on the desk. "Is that usual?"
"No, sir, it is not, and in general it is an unwise practice. I daresay you may have noticed some small inefficiencies."
"A few," he said dryly.
Jane looked down at her clasped hands. "My aunt has been unwell since the twins' birth, but I believe she maintained some control of the household until Thomas was born two years ago. Since that time she has kept largely to her rooms."
"I see,"
"I think you do not," Jane snapped. "Five stillbirths in ten years..." She bit her lip, angry with him for being his father's son and with herself for transgressing the bounds of delicacy. "She is unequal to any great exertion, and though she may play off the airs of an invalid to perfection, I assure you, sir, she is not shamming ill health."
"Miss Ash--"
"It is most unfair in you." She blinked back angry tears.
"Please do not."
Jane stiffened.
"I haven't suggested that Lady Meriden is in the bloom of good health."
"Oh."
"I am begging you to tell me how best to deal with her. You seem to have her confidence."
"It would be unbecoming in me to instruct you, my lord."
He rubbed a hand across his forehead as if he, too, had the headache. "Could we begin again?"
Jane drew out her list. "I had started to sort out what must be done."
He reached out and took the paper from her. "It was kind in you to offer to take on the task, but I cannot be obliged to you to that extent."
She felt her cheeks burn. "If there is obligation, it is my aunt's."
"You're a guest," he said mildly. "Does it not seem odd to you--"
"It seemed odd at first," Jane said through her teeth, "but someone had to see to this family's well-being. You, sir, or your agent, must be the proper one to put things in order. I would remind you, however, that your father died last summer and that it is now March. If I have been encroaching, if I have from time to time given your servants direction, or seen to Drusilla's abscessed tooth or..."
"You misunderstand me. I am very grateful to you."
Jane sniffed.
"Did Drusilla indeed suffer from the toothache?"
"Yes, and she was a great baby about having it drawn. Oh dear." She gave a damp chuckle. "I meant to be on my dignity."
"So you were. Very frightening. My poor child, what a time you have had."
Jane considered informing his lordship that she was not three years his junior and no child, but she forbore, saying merely, "It was daunting at times. They're all so helpless."
"So I see."
"May I have my list back?"
He frowned, the same troubled look in his eyes she had seen earlier.
"You cannot deal with Mrs. Pruitt," she said, "and my aunt will not."
"Therefore you must? I don't agree, Miss Ash." The flicker of a grin crossed his face. "I have a way with housekeepers."
"Not with housekeepers who have been used to contend with your late father."
"A formidable woman?"
"She hates men," Jane said frankly.
There was a disconcerted pause.
"I fancy you are embarrassed to find me thrust into your concerns," Jane ventured, "but it's too late to prevent my knowing how things stand."
"Miss Ash, this entire chain of events has been a great embarrassment to me from the beginning. Physically, financially, and socially. Pray do not regard your rôle in it as singular."
Jane smiled. "The list, sir."
He handed it back reluctantly.
"I shall execute your wishes faithfully," she assured him.
"Thank you. But Lady Meriden--"
"My lord, surely you must see that it is not these particular changes she objects to, but change in general. If you do not disturb her small world unduly, you may make what alterations you will elsewhere."
"I see. That's sensible advice, and don't, I beg you, say anything foolish about encroaching. I shall take it in very ill part."
Jane flushed.
"The twins must go to school and the state wing be closed, but I shall try to avoid other major catastrophes for the time being."
"You're very quick, sir."
"Thank you." He grinned. "If I am hit on the head with a fact, I can generally recognise it. Now tell me, does Felix play chess?"
Jane blinked.
"He needs diversion. I thought to have a game with him."
"I believe he knows very few games."
"Then I'll teach him the game of kings directly. My grandfather was always used to say that chess is your great teacher of craft and patience."
"Felix would no doubt benefit from both qualities."
"Oh, I was thinking of myself," he said in a bland voice. "I am sorely short of both."
Jane chuckled. "I think not. My lord?"
"Yes?"
"Green acorns?"
He laughed. "You must allow I was goaded."
"I believe you invented the entire idea from whole cloth."
"No. After Burgos, on the retreat to Portugal, we lost the supply wagons--or rather they lost us. Thorpe was not pleased. The acorns are a sore point, in fact, so I don't as a rule mention them. He was usually more resourceful."
"A man of many parts."
"Yes. My bâtman. In his younger days he was a famous poacher, which is how he came to be in the army."
"Very reliable."
Meriden smiled. "I've always found him so."
Jane decided that Lady Meriden should be spared the groom's history, at least as long as the twins were in his charge. Lord Meriden's history also came into clearer focus through the medium of her brother Jack's letter. Jane had given up on Jack, unjustly it seemed.
Dear Sister,
How do you in the West? I have got sport shooting crowes but its Devlish muddy. So I come early in to Write you these news. Old Keighley (Jack's captain, Jane recalled) writ me a
J. Stretton was in the 95th--the Rifles, you know. Light Bobs. Daresay that explanes the green jacket. Keighley says Stretton was in Port (Portland? No, Portugal, Jane surmised.) as Lt. and capt., wounded at Toulusse. Brvt. maj. Invalided out after Water-loo.
Will that do? Keighley sd. at first he thot Maj. Stretton had got himself kilt but when I sd. no he lookt into it. By the by Joanna has a Girl. Has my coz. Vincent come a cropper yet? Shdn't be surprized.
Yr. Bro. Jack
Post scriptum. Love from Father and when do you come home?
PPS. Don't my Aunt read? There was casualty lists pub'd. after W-loo.
"Is something amiss, dear Jane?" Miss Goodnight asked, peering at her over the spectacles she wore for sewing. Maria and Miss Goodnight were engaged in stitching shirts for the twins.
Jane schooled her features hastily. "No. Not at all. Joanna has a daughter, Jack writes, but he does not give me any particulars."
"How like a man," Maria said in an elderly manner so reminiscent of Mrs. Pruitt that Jane longed to box her ears.
"It's a little thoughtless in Jack," Miss Goodnight murmured.
"You must write directly, Jane. Joanna will be missing your help. How you must wish to be with her!"
Jane could have wished nothing less heartily than to be with Joanna, but now she could willingly have been whisked away to Walden Ash, even if three sisters-in-law were there encouched. What in the world should she do with Jack's intelligence? She listened to Miss Goodnight's account of Joanna's many ills with half an ear and tried to think. It did not occur to her to doubt Jack's report, however ill-spelt and elliptic. Too many small items that had puzzled her fell into place, and at least one major puzzle.
Clearly Meriden's long delay in coming must be laid to his injuries rather than to malice or indifference. Why he had not explained his absence exercised her for no little time. At last it struck her, with some horror, that he must assume Lady Meriden, indeed all of them, knew of his wounds. Jack's post scriptum was well taken--there had been nothing secret about the Waterloo casualty lists.
She did not care to imagine what his lordship must be thinking of them. Although several excuses passed through her mind, she determined to offer none, even to herself. His lordship's father must certainly have been informed. It was hard to imagine why even a man as indolent and self-occupied as the late baron should not have mentioned the matter to someone in the family. Probably, she thought crossly, he directed his man of business to despatch a basket of fruit and forgot about it.
A Cousinly Connection Page 7