Joe Mitchell wasn't entirely stupid either, but he was lazy and greedy and he made mistakes. He should have recorded his ill-gotten deeds. It might have raised a huge stink if anyone had realized how much land he'd acquired over the years, but no one could have done a blessed thing about it once those deeds were properly filed and recorded. There was damned well something Pace could do about it now.
He stopped to file a petition in the judge's office. He filed an appeal of the eviction notice and a countersuit.
He set a court date, then visited the newspaper office to file a public notice. Pace was in his element. He knew precisely what to do and went about it with efficiency and organization. Joe Mitchell would regret the day he went after somebody besides illiterate widows and orphans. And if he was taking the advice of the viscount's expensive British solicitor, they would soon learn to their sorrow that Kentucky law had absolutely no basis in English common law. The men who founded this state despised the British down to the very soles of their shoes.
Pace realized how much he'd missed the mental challenges of law when he rode toward home with exhilaration winging through his veins. He could learn farming. He could manage the physical labor even with his ruined arm. He could damn well do anything he put his mind to, but he liked law. He wanted to be a lawyer, not a farmer. He wondered how Dora would feel about moving out West.
He didn't wonder for long. As he rode up the drive, he saw the Andrewses' carriage waiting at the front steps. He hitched his horse out front and took the stairs two at a time. Josie used his carriage and not her father's. This wasn't Josie visiting.
He found them in the parlor: Dora wearing her simple Quaker gray and the men wearing their elegant frock coats, hats, and brocade vests. She looked so fragile in front of them, so helpless and unprotected, that Pace's heart turned over in his chest in some turmoil he didn't try to interpret.
She didn't smile when he threw his hat down and strode across the room to wrap his arm around her.
Before he could even turn to confront the elegant strangers, she informed him, "My grandmother has apparently left me her fortune."
The gray-haired man in black worsted completed for her, "With the provision that Lady Alice's solicitors approve her choice of husbands." A malevolent smile lightened his face. "I can assure you, Lady Alice's solicitors will not approve of a country bumpkin. Shall we talk?"
Chapter 36
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels; how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't?
Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
~ Shakespeare, Henry VIII
Dora stared out the darkened bedroom window. Pace had been gone for three nights now. She didn't know where he slept, but she suspected he slept at Jackson's. She tried to see the lights of the old farmhouse through the trees, but they were in full leaf at this time of year. She could see nothing but the twinkle of an occasional star above the canopy of leaves.
She couldn't complain that Pace had deserted her. He worked in the fields every day. He came to the house at dinner and supper to play with Amy and carry Frances around as if she were old enough to know what he said to her. Her heart wept every time she heard Pace talking to his daughter, telling her who his mother was, pointing out the stuffed doll he'd bought for her, showing her the honeysuckle blooming in the hedges. He was so very, very good with her. She hadn't expected that of a man who'd only known cruelty as a boy.
He didn't talk much to Dora. He avoided her so deliberately that she found it easier to stay out of his way. She would just listen to his voice in other rooms or drifting through open windows and catch a peek at him when she could. Her eyes felt swollen and red from crying most of the time anyway. She didn't want him to see her like this.
She thought she knew him so well, but she was learning that she didn't know anything at all. How could he so cruelly take her heart in his hand, dash it into the dirt, and walk on it while still playing with their daughter as if she was the most important part of his life? It didn't make sense. She didn't want it to make sense, because she feared what she might discover.
She'd tried telling him the money didn't mean anything. She'd tried telling him she didn't want it. She had talked reasonably, then resorted to yelling and shouting and slamming doors. Nothing got through to him. Nothing. He'd turned her off completely.
As much as she denied it, she understood his motives. He thought he would make it easier for her to return to England without him or Frances. He was showing her that he could take care of their daughter. She knew he could. She never had a doubt of that. But did he think her so shallow as to leave her heart and soul in this country while she returned to a stranger's cold abode for the dubious pleasures of earthly coin?
She could find no other logic in his actions. She didn't want to believe he thought her so shallow. But the fact remained, he didn't come to her bed or take her as wife.
She didn't know what had become of the eviction notice either. Pace had spent a long time talking to the solicitor after they'd thrown her out of the room. Maybe they'd reached an agreement. Maybe Gareth and the earl paid him to stay away and part of the bribe was that they would nullify the eviction. She could understand that a little better. Pace would do anything to save his father's land, to prevent his mother and daughter from being evicted from their home. She supposed he might give up a wife he didn't love to accomplish these things.
If that were the case, what choice did she have? She wished the damned man would talk to her. Surely they could find some way out of this mess without destroying their lives. Or maybe he thought their lives wouldn't be destroyed by ending their marriage.
That thought terrified Dora so much that she didn't want to hear it from his mouth, so she kept away. She knew she would die if forced to leave Pace and Frances. But perhaps she wouldn't die in vain. Perhaps they would be happier without her.
Life went on. She was more aware of that than most people. This shell that she was would keep making the motions of living. She would get up and get dressed in the mornings, eat what was put before her, speak when spoken to. And if God would ever be so kind as to deliver her from that purgatory, she would die grateful. It behooved her to consider what was best for Pace and Frances.
When the next dawn arrived, Dora watched from the window as she fed Frances, but she didn't see Pace riding into the fields. That worried her. Even Frances sensed her tension, and the infant squirmed in her arms. Dora forced herself to relax by turning away from the window and pretending Pace went to the fields while she wasn't looking. Still, even after she put Frances down to sleep, her stomach churned.
She went through the motions of her daily chores without thinking, with her insides growing more tightly wound with each passing minute. Had she still felt that childhood connection with Pace, she would think that he suffered from some stomach ailment, and she would hurry down to the farmhouse with her black bag of medicines.
She helped haul hot buckets of water for the laundry. She stood beside Ernestine and hung linens on the wash line. She stirred the stew they'd prepared for dinner and waited for Pace to come eat. When he didn't arrive at his usual time, the pain in her stomach grew worse. Something was happening. She knew it.
She wore her oldest gown and an apron splashed with lye when the Andrewses' carriage arrived out front. Annie came running outside to tell her. Dora didn't have time to do more than remove her apron and run her fingers through her hair as she went to meet the visitors. Maybe it was Josie. Maybe she knew what was happening. She'd stayed with her father all week.
It was Josie, but she had brought Gareth with her. Josie had let herself in without knocking, and they waited in the parlor. Dora took one look at her bulky half brother and felt the urge to flee, but she was rooted to the spot.
"Have you heard the good news?" Josie cried gleefully when she spotted Do
ra. "I'm going with you to England!"
Dora had no intention whatsoever of ever setting foot on England's shores again, but she didn't inform Josie of that yet. The news knocked her from her momentary paralysis and sent her mind spinning furiously as she eyed the smug expression on Gareth's countenance. Even though she hadn't seen it in more than a dozen years, she remembered that expression much too well.
She eyed him with curiosity as she spoke. "It was generous of Gareth to invite you. Is there a particular reason for taking such a long journey?"
Josie glanced at him nervously, but Gareth responded with complete aplomb. "Unlike you, I prefer seeking our father's approval before making some decisions. Mrs. Nicholls is very understanding."
Cold fury wrapped around Dora's heart as she looked from eager, simple Josie to her malevolent-minded brother. Josie's wealth was not great, but it was significant. Had the earl's wealth deteriorated so badly that his son now sought funds through a wife? And what would happen to Josie when her wealth evaporated? Would she conveniently fall into Plymouth harbor?
Dora had no intention of finding out. If Josie was too naive to protect herself and Pace too busy to notice, then someone else must step in.
Dora smiled, but the pair in front of her didn't notice the emptiness of the expression. Once she had suffered helplessly, believing love meant pain. She knew better now. Pace and the Smythes had taught her that loving someone meant doing whatever necessary to keep them from hurt. Gareth wasn't here out of love. She would prove it.
"How very delightful." She stepped into the room, gesturing for Josie to take a seat. But Dora remained standing, just out of Gareth's reach. She cocked her head and eyed his fleshy face with interest. "We've not had time to talk, Gareth. Did Father ever remarry? Or have you sought and buried any wives these past years?"
His full, pouting lips tightened. "Your mother's wanton behavior nearly destroyed him. He never fully recovered from the scandal. I have been in no hurry to find myself hitched to another such as she."
"Yes, attempting to save her unborn child from brutality was no doubt wanton beyond reason. It's a pity they don't hang earls. How do you plan to get rid of me if I should return to England? Or do you think to beat me into keeping my lips sealed?" Dora kept her voice pleasantly unconcerned, as if they discussed the wine served at dinner.
Gareth's face took on an unhealthy flush. "You always were a devilish brat. Had I a choice, I'd leave you here, but Father insists that I bring you home. I'd suggest you polish your manners if you mean to live among society when you get there."
"Ahh!" Dora's expression showed enlightenment. "That is how you will do it. You will have me locked away and claim guardianship over my wealth. I knew there had to be something in it for you. You're a foul, evil villain, Gareth Beaumont, and I will see you in hell before I follow you anywhere."
She had gauged his temper perfectly. The steam already boiled from his ears before she threw the insult. She meant to step away before his hand flew at her, but he was much faster than she realized.
Gareth's fist caught Dora on the jaw and sent her crashing sideways into the lamp and table in the front window.
Josie screeched and loosed a stream of invectives at Gareth, mixed with terrified questions of concern for Dora as she fell to her knees beside her. Dora pushed herself up on one elbow, put her hand to her jaw, and shook her head to stop the spinning stars. Her gaze met Josie's directly. "Show Lord Doran out, will you?"
The crash and screech brought Annie and Ernestine running in from the back rooms and Harriet to the top of the stairs. Gareth looked like a trapped grizzly amid all the feminine skirts. Apologies fell from his lips, but Harriet had grabbed the iron poker from the ancient fireplace in her room and wielded it now as she limped down the stairs. In her billowing nightgown, she looked like some vengeful gray ghost. Gareth blanched and backed toward the front door.
"It was an accident," he pleaded. "I never meant to hurt her. She fell like that on purpose, just to make it seem worse than it was."
Josie gestured at Ernestine. "Fetch me the sword from the study," she ordered.
Ernestine ran to do as told.
"This is preposterous," Gareth protested. "She's my sister. We've always quarreled. I'll make it up to her, if that's what you want. I assure you, she's not nearly as hurt as she pretends. Dora was always an actress."
Harriet had reached the bottom of the stairs with the poker by the time Ernestine came running up with Pace's huge military saber. Josie gripped the handle and hefted it, deliberately pointing it in Gareth's face.
"I would suggest you depart at once, Lord Doran. I have heard all those excuses before, although admittedly, yours are even more demeaning than my late husband's. I think, in my best opinion, that if it's all right for a huge man to hit a tiny woman, then it ought to be perfectly all right for a woman to take the nose off a man. What do you think Mother Nicholls?"
Dora had brought herself to her feet. She clung now to the door frame, holding her jaw as the two women advanced on Gareth, driving him backwards, stumbling, out the door. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to crow with relief. She wanted to hug them both for discovering there was strength in numbers and that nothing justified abuse. But her jaw hurt too much to do more than watch with approval as they slammed and bolted the door in Gareth's face.
Josephine swung around and dropped the sword as she regarded Dora's swelling jaw. She burst into tears and leaned against the door for support, leaving Harriet in the awkward position of choosing which daughter-in-law to comfort first.
"It's all right. Mother Nicholls," Dora said, using Josie's name for her for the first time. "It's just a bruise. I'll see if there's any ice left in the icehouse."
"He could have broken your neck!" Josie wept. "I thought he was a gentleman!"
"You thought Charlie was a gentleman," Harriet snorted ungently. "You don't think too well, girl. You'd better come upstairs and lie down a spell." She glared at Dora. "And you too. I don't believe in heroics. You're a damned fool, and you'd be a sight better off without my son. Get yourself rested and throw him out if he comes crawling back here."
Josie straightened and rubbed hastily at her eyes. "Pace! He's over at the courthouse now. They're having a big trial. He's suing Joe Mitchell over some illegal deeds or something. I heard Lord Doran and his solicitor talking. They've made some kind of deal with Pace and my father. I don't understand all of it, but Pace will give up his claim to the farm and let my father claim it in my name. Then he's supposed to turn around and sell it back to Pace for a dollar or something once you return to England. I don't know what one has to do with the other, but—"
She halted as Dora brushed past them all, pulling herself up the stairs, stumbling and running, holding her jaw and her skirts and the railing in some frantic race to the top. Josie and Harriet exchanged glances, then took off after her.
Chapter 37
I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so incens'd, that I am reckless what I do
To spite the world.
~ Shakespeare, Macbeth
"You're out of your mind," Josie protested as Dora pulled the yards of gray silk skirt, embroidered petticoats, and crinolines into the carriage and settled them around her. With a little more experience at managing the bulk of her attire, Josie hurried to climb in beside her. "What can you possibly accomplish?"
"I don't know." Dora sat back and gave Jackson a nod when he turned his head questioningly. She didn't have to explain herself to Jackson. He'd come running when she'd called and took up the reins of the carriage as if born to them. Dora had a feeling that he'd argued with Pace all along, and that he was on her side. She just hoped she knew what her side was.
"You're going to walk into that courthouse and make a spectacle of yourself and you don't even know what you'll do when you get there?" Josie exclaimed in horror. "Dora Nicholls, you're insane!"
"Yes, I think I am. It's b
etter than being dead, however. I won't be a ghost everyone ignores any longer. I will not let Pace throw everything away like that. I won't."
"But he won't be throwing it away!" Josie protested. "Daddy will sell it back to him."
Dora gave her a disgusted look, then turned to watch the passing scenery. Jackson let the horses have their heads. They'd no doubt bounce through the roof of the carriage before they reached the courthouse.
She tried to think, tried to plan what she meant to do, but her brain had quit working. Her jaw and head ached unmercifully from Gareth's blow, but that pain was as nothing to the pain in her heart.
Pace was throwing her away. He had gone into that courthouse to tell the judge and everyone who cared to listen that they hadn't been married when she signed that deed, and then he meant to let Gareth's fancy lawyer prove their marriage wasn't valid because she'd not used her proper name. She knew it. She'd known it all along.
He would let her go out of some stupid sense of duty, believing himself inadequate and an unfit husband for a wealthy Lady Alexandra. She'd curse Pace if it weren't for the fact that she knew his father had done this to him, stripped him of his confidence and self-esteem so that he couldn't see his own worth, as her own father had tried to do to her. She'd been luckier than Pace. The Smythes had rescued her. Now she would rescue Pace.
Somehow, she would show Pace that he was a better man than any man in this county, maybe the entire state, maybe the whole world for all she knew. He was better than foolish titles or earthly coin. Even if he couldn't love her, she would fare better with him than left alone. And she would spend her life showing him that she was better for him than any other woman alive.
The horses couldn't go fast enough. Even as bouncing through a rut caused her to slam into the side of the carriage and nearly fall from the seat, Dora mentally urged Jackson to hurry. The case could be over already. She didn't have any idea how long these things took. She couldn't bear the thought that she would arrive too late. Surely God wouldn't do that to her, not after bringing her all this way.
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