“I wish I could have seen that. I imagine we did the same thing at their age. Are you and Corrie thinking of more children?”
James paled, making Jason reach out his hand to grab his brother’s arm. “What’s the matter?”
James drew a deep steadying breath. “Corrie had a very bad time of it with the twins. I don’t want her pregnant again. It could kill her. She squeezed my hand so hard she broke a bone.”
“You stayed with her?”
“Oh yes. She said since I got her into this mess I could very well see her through it. Then she cursed me, but she didn’t know that many curses, so she had to keep repeating herself. Between the contractions, I taught her meaty new ones. She uses them today—usually on me. It was scary, Jason. You would not believe the number of good deeds I promised if she would survive, and I’ve done every single one of them.”
“I didn’t know. She appears so sturdy, she glows with good health.”
“Yes, but the twins were big. It—it was terrifying, Jason. As terrifying as when I thought you were going to die and there was nothing I could do about it except pray. If you hadn’t survived, I probably would have curled up next to you. It was the same with Corrie.”
Jason never turned in the saddle to acknowledge his brother’s words, though they struck him deep. He felt the old rancid pain filling his throat, the bitterness of it making his belly churn. His head began to ache because his brain didn’t want to think about the past, simply couldn’t.
Jason said, “Damn, the wind’s come up—a cold wind. Don’t you dare claim that you’re still as warm as the back of Father’s knees when Eleanor the Third is tucked there at night.”
James forced a laugh, but it was difficult. He had to give his twin more time. At least he was home, and that was the most important thing. “Just a nip in the air, nothing more. Eleanor the Third now has a brother, William the Fourth, a big black tom who keeps the back of Mother’s knees warm.”
“I saw the two of them trotting into our parents’ bedchamber, tails high, ready for the knees. Any racing cats around?”
“Mother had hopes for William, but the truth is, all he likes to do is eat and sleep and allow Eleanor to wash him, which she does, endlessly.”
“I’d like to have a racing cat. I remember all cousin Meggie’s triumphs.”
James laughed. “Remember Ellis Peepers, who’s now our head gardener? He’s all wiry and long, red-haired, full beard that’s so bright it looks like his face is on fire?” At his brother’s nod, James went on, “He was schooled by the Harker brothers in training techniques and how to select good racing cat owners. Maybe he’ll deem you worthy.”
“Ellis will find me to be the most responsible of racing cat owners. But I suppose it will have to wait. Just now, what with my partner coming tomorrow, there’s simply too much to do.”
“So you and Miss Carrick will be spending all your days at Lyon’s Gate, repairing the house and the stables.”
“Yes,” Jason said, voice now grim. He turned to face his brother as they drew in their horses at the stable. “Can you begin to imagine the fights we will have? And unlike you, I won’t be able to kiss her until she forgets her own name.”
“Or until she’s wearing a silly grin and forgotten why she wanted to rip your throat out.”
“Now there’s a thought.” Jason laughed and smacked his brother on the arm. “It would be so much easier were she a man.”
Late the following afternoon, Jason was pleasantly tired after working all day at Lyon’s Gate. The stables were nearly ready for their tenants. Perhaps he could list out for Miss Carrick the joys of being close to her horses, both day and night. Or perhaps not. He’d just placed his boot on the first step of the ten broad, deeply set front steps of Northcliffe Hall when he heard a carriage rolling up the long drive. He stepped back down, knowing it was Miss Carrick.
Despite the fact she was a thorn in his flesh, and that fate had planted her right in front of him with no rhyme nor reason, Jason realized he felt good. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Miss Carrick lean out the window, waving to him. He hoped she didn’t leap out before the driver stopped the carriage. He watched the coachman draw in smartly right next to him. Jason saw it was a rented carriage, an expensive rented carriage. There were two outriders.
He started forward when the door flew wide and Miss Carrick jumped down before either he or the coach driver could assist her. He wasn’t particularly surprised.
“Mr. Sherbrooke! I’m here. How nice of you to be waiting out here for me to arrive.”
CHAPTER 13
She was the height of fashion in a dark hunter green gown with wide sleeves tapering to fit snugly at her wrists and a belted waist that looked the size of a man’s fists bunched together. Her hair was tucked up under a bonnet of the same dark green, several curls lazily floating down in front of her ears. And in her lovely little ears were sparkling diamond studs. “I see that you are, Miss Carrick. Both you and your equipage look quite grand.”
“Yes, the carriage cost me very nearly all the money my father’s banker would give me, the dolt. I must write my father and have him send instructions.”
“Unlimited funds for you, Miss Carrick?”
“Don’t be a knothead. Oh, thank you for the compliment to my person as well as to my carriage. The gown is from Madame Jordan, who tells me that your father selects all your mother’s clothes, and your brother selects all of Corrie’s. I’ve never heard of gentlemen dressing women. Isn’t that rather odd? Is it some sort of tradition in your family?”
“To be honest, I’ve never thought about it, although the men in this family have excellent taste—Hmm, now that I think about it, I don’t know that I would have selected such a very dark green for you, Miss Carrick. I could, of course, be mistaken—perhaps the late afternoon sun shining too brightly in my eyes—but is bilious the right word?”
She let the bait dangle in front of her nose for a moment, then laughed aloud, a bright, quite lovely sound. “That was well done.” She turned to the carriage. “Come along, Martha. We’re here at Northcliffe Hall. Isn’t it beautiful? Look at all the colors.”
Her maid hopped out of the carriage, landing lightly on very little feet. She couldn’t be more than seventeen, Jason thought. She was very small, her pointed chin trembling in excitement. “Oh yes, it be glorious, more than glorious. So many thick trees, jest like in the park. I didn’t know you was acquainted with such grand folk, Miss Hallie.”
“Only the grandest folk for me, Martha.”
Jason laughed as Hallie rolled her eyes. “Let me see to your coachman and your outriders.” Jason turned to the coachman. “Any problems?”
The coachman gave Jason a smart salute. “None, milord. Benji and Neally, our outriders provided by Miss Carrick’s banker, well they wanted a highwayman or two to break the monotony, but nary a rascal showed hisself.”
“He’s twenty-eight minutes too young to be a lord, John,” Hallie said. At Jason’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I overheard Melissa telling her mother about how close in time you and James were born.”
Hallie turned when Martha lightly tugged on her sleeve. “Yes, Martha?”
Martha whispered, “Who is that god, ma’am?”
“God? What god?”
“The young gentleman, ma’am. Oh Lordie, is he ever a beaut. I’ve never afore seen such a glorious young gentleman, meybe more than jest plain glor—”
“Yes, yes, I understand, Martha. We will look into getting you spectacles.”
“But I gots eyes wot can see birdseeds, Miss Hallie.”
So both he and the Hall were glorious? He saw Hallie open, then shut her mouth. Routed by her maid. He said to the coachman, “That is Hollis standing in the front door. He will see that all three of you have dinner and beds for the night. Thank you for taking such fine care of Miss Carrick.”
The three men stood gazing up at Northcliffe Hall and Jason knew what they were seeing. One of England�
��s great houses, three stories, with three wings coming off the back of the house, making it look like an E. The first earl of Northcliffe had built the Hall, quarrying the lovely gray stone at Hillsley Dale some three centuries before, mellowed now to a soft cream color in the late afternoon light. Northcliffe would look utterly stark and coldly formal like so many of the other great houses of England if not for the current countess who’d planted oak, lime, larch, and maple trees all along the drive and throughout the grounds more than twenty-five years before. As for the myriad bushes and flowering plants, they crept close to the stone walls, softening the lines of the house even more, and presented so many colors and blossoms in the summer that the Northcliffe gardeners would find small groups of strangers on the grounds staring at the incredible summer foliage. It looked like a great house conjured up in a fairy tale.
“Thank ye, milord,” the coachman said and turned when Hollis called out, his old voice firm and steady, “Come along, lads, Bobby here will take you to the stables to see to your horses and the carriage, then you’ll go to the kitchen.”
The three men, leading the horses, with Bobby three strides ahead of them, disappeared around the side of the house. Hollis said as he came down the deep, wide steps to stand beside Jason, “You are Miss Carrick?”
“Yes,” Hallie said, staring at the old man with his sharp blue eyes and his flowing thick white hair. “I saw a painting of Moses once. I would accept your Ten Commandments before I would accept his, Hollis.”
Hollis gave her a lovely smile, showing a mouth still filled with sufficient teeth to chew his mutton.
Jason, serious as a judge, said, “James and I believed he was God. You never corrected us, Hollis.”
“You and his lordship never disobeyed me when you believed I could smite you both with but a flick of my finger.”
“James and I feared more than smiting, Hollis. We feared you would give us pustules all over our bodies.”
Hollis looked thoughtful. “Pustules. Hmm. That never occurred to me. I suppose it is too late now?”
“It’s perfect for the twins. Ah, would you please see to Miss Carrick’s maid, Martha? I will take care of the disposition of Miss Carrick.”
Hollis, who’d been studying Hallie, said in a low voice that Hallie could hear perfectly well, “You will not cause her bodily harm, will you Master Jason?”
“You mean as in tossing her into Reever Lake? No, I’m too tired to do away with her today.”
He heard a gasp from young Martha and smiled down at her. “I won’t strangle your mistress. Don’t worry.”
Hallie said, “I’ll tell you when to worry, Martha. Go with Hollis now.” She watched small Martha walk very slowly up the stone steps next to the ancient butler, her hand ready to steady him if he faltered. Both Hallie and Jason saw Martha look up at him, and heard her whisper, “Ye’re glorious, Mr. Hollis, meybe even more than glorious.”
Hallie laughed, couldn’t help herself. She was still very nervous. “And here I wondered if Martha and I would suit.”
“Since she makes you laugh, she’ll suit you well enough.”
“I didn’t meet Hollis when I came here after Melissa and Leo’s wedding.”
“I believe he was in his bed nursing a cold. He is quite well now, thank God.”
When Hollis and Martha had negotiated the steps and disappeared into the house, she looked up at Jason. “I don’t know about glorious, but you are a beaut. Such a pity that you know it too well.”
An eyebrow shot up. “You are something of a beaut yourself, Miss Carrick. However, unlike you, I am not vain. I do not array myself in such a way to draw attention to my attributes.”
“And what would you do if you wished to draw attention?”
She had him, and she knew it. She grinned up at him shamelessly. “You really couldn’t push your chest up and out, now could you? Hmm. As for rice powder on your face, I daresay you’d sweat it off in the middle of your first waltz.”
He quickly took the opening she gave him. “And ladies don’t sweat off their rice powder?”
“Certainly not. Ladies are made of fine porcelain, not porous mud.”
Since that was exactly what he felt like at the moment, Jason threw back his head and laughed. He realized in that moment he’d missed that fast brain of hers, not to mention her tongue.
“Ravensworth Abbey is as grand as Northcliffe Hall, but it’s very different. You have a beautiful home.”
“Lyon’s Gate is now my home.”
“Our home, Mr. Sherbrooke. Our home.” She lightly patted his white sleeve. “Twenty-eight minutes. Not even half an hour and your fate is decided.”
“Please believe me, Miss Carrick, I would rather share a house with you than one day be the master here.”
She noticed then that he wasn’t dressed like a son of the house. Odd that she hadn’t noticed how sweaty and dirty he was, his old boots scuffed, his white shirt open at the neck and a bit down his chest, and she wasn’t about to stare, not when all that lovely dirt meant he’d been at Lyon’s Gate and she hadn’t. “You’ve been spending the past three days at Lyon’s Gate, haven’t you?” Her voice rose an octave. “What have you done?”
He’d have to have been dead not to hear the outrage, and was tempted to string her along. No, better not, since her eyes were already bulging in her head. Besides, his precious mother might hear her shouting at him and come down and shoot her. “Nothing you would disapprove of,” he said mildly. “I hired three men from the village to help me clean out the stables. We nearly finished today. I’ve already spoken to the man who will decide what is necessary to repair the house and he and his workers will begin tomorrow. You can speak to them then. Oh yes, my mother sent over a half-dozen gardeners, who are all pulling the ivy from the house and getting rid of the weeds. It begins to look much better.”
Hallie chewed this over a moment, nodded. “All right. You are lucky you didn’t paint any rooms, Mr. Sherbrooke.”
“Paint, you say? I was picturing a lovely bright crimson for the drawing room, perhaps one wall a pale blue. What do you think?”
She looked up into those incredible lavender eyes of his and said, “You surprise me, sir. An excellent choice. And lovely crimson draperies, don’t you think? Or perhaps the pale blue?”
“Crimson, with thick braided gold tassels looping them up. Velvet would be utterly charming. How nice. We should have no arguments at all.” He offered her his arm. “Let me take you inside to greet everyone. I imagine they should be assembled by now.”
She laughed as she walked beside him up the steps. “May we leave early tomorrow to go to Lyon’s Gate? I want to see everything.”
She was as excited as he was. He hated it that she lusted after Lyon’s Gate as much as he did.
He called out, “Hello, Mother. Look who’s arrived.”
Alex stood just inside the imposing front door, eyeing the young woman who’d had the gall to ruin her son’s dream. She knew her duty, gulped once, and presented a smile. Sometimes being well bred was the very devil. “Miss Carrick. How very lovely to see you again.”
Hallie curtsied. “Thank you, ma’am, for having me. It is very kind of you.”
What to say when she’d really had no choice in the matter? Best to keep her mouth shut.
Hallie gave her a shameless grin. “I do hope you don’t have a gun behind your back.”
Alex felt an unwanted tug of liking. “Hmm. Be very deferential to me, Miss Carrick, nod in modest agreement at everything I say, and you might survive.”
“Sorry, Mother. Even if she tried, I can’t see that happening,” Jason said.
“In that case, then you must come into the drawing room, Miss Carrick. My dear mother-in-law, Lady Lydia, the dowager countess of Northcliffe, is here for her weekly visit. You can meet her and have a lovely cup of tea.”
Jason groaned.
Hallie looked suddenly wary.
Jason tried to catch his mother’s eye, but she’d taken
Hallie’s arm and was steering her in a straight line toward the drawing room. He’d rather be tossed on the back of a wild two-year-old, with no bridle, perhaps even boiled in oil. A firing squad was a good option.
His grandmother hated every female in the known universe except for his aunt Melissande, including his mother and Corrie, and that was why his father had finally moved her into the dowager house at the end of the lane five years before.
He said from behind them, “Mother, perhaps you should reconsider this particular course of action. She’s a lamb to the slaughter.”
“Nonsense. You are a bit on the dirty side, dearest, but your grandmother won’t mind. And Miss Carrick surely is a well-enough behaved girl to sail smoothly through, don’t you think?”
“No. Miss Carrick, do you know Wilhelmina Wyndham?”
“Oh dear.”
CHAPTER 14
Jason would rather empty chamber pots than walk into that drawing room with the tethered goat, but he simply couldn’t leave Miss Carrick to his grandmother alone and unarmed. It would be too cruel. Not that his presence would make much difference. She would be crushed by that malicious aged tongue; his grandmother would look at Hallie and see fresh meat. Odd how she never turned her cannon on either him or James or his father. Just those unfortunate enough to be female.
Jason saw Corrie seated in a wing chair, James standing behind her, his hand lightly on her shoulder, doubtless to keep her from leaping up and kicking over his grandmother’s chair when she started shooting insults.
His grandmother’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “Dear Jason, what a sight you are, my boy, but that certainly isn’t important, now is it? What’s a little dirt in the flow of time? Come and give me a big kiss.”
Jason grinned at the old woman, leaned down and kissed her parchment cheek. She lightly touched his hair and whispered, “I have some nutty buns Hollis brought me this morning. Come later and I will share them with you.” Jason gripped her veiny old hands and whispered back that indeed he would.
Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123) Page 105