When he stepped back, the dowager countess looked up to see her daughter-in-law, the red-haired hussy, gripping the arm of a young lady she’d never laid eyes on before.
Jason saw it in her eyes as clearly as if she’d spoken aloud: new prey, bring me new prey.
“Who are you?”
Alex dropped Hallie’s arm. “This is the young lady who is moving into the neighborhood, Mother-in-law. I fear”—she cleared her throat—“that is, it appears she will be staying with us for a while. Isn’t she lovely? Don’t you think she’s beautifully gowned? And observe how gracefully she moves. Miss Carrick, this is Lady Lydia, the earl’s mother.”
“Well, come here, girl, and let me look at you.”
There was a moment of stark silence in the drawing room. Hallie saw that everyone was staring from her to the old woman, and not breathing.
She looked at the little old lady, with her shiny pink scalp showing through her white hair, and couldn’t imagine her being the least bit like Wilhelmina Wyndham. Surely not; Jason was joking with her. Lady Lydia was by no means frail, nor did she have the look of a placid old lady to have her hand patted and pillows settled behind her ancient back. She looked as substantial and solid as Hallie’s mare, Piccola, and surely that wasn’t a bad thing. On the other hand, Piccola could bite her and whip her with her tail at the same time. The dowager’s old eyes gleamed, her mouth opened, and suddenly out of Hallie’s mouth came, “Do you remember the French Revolution, my lady?”
Lady Lydia froze. “The what, girl?”
“When the French people rose up against the king and queen and guillotined them?”
Lady Lydia studied that lovely young face for a very long time before saying quietly, “I remember it like yesterday. None of us could believe the French rabble had locked their king and queen in the Conciergerie. There were reports the king and queen would go to the guillotine. We waited, wondering how such a thing could come to pass. And then one day they cut off the king’s head.
“I remember so many people tried to save the queen after that, but you know, she’d become quite dotty toward the end, and the final escape failed. She insisted on the coach stopping so she could smell some flowers. Do you know something else, girl? I also remember Waterloo.”
“Did you ever meet the duke of Wellington, ma’am?” As she spoke, Hallie sat down on the foot cushion at Lady Lydia’s feet.
“Certainly, a clever man is Arthur Wellesley. When he returned to London in the summer of 1815, he was fêted every evening; ladies threw themselves at him, gentlemen wanted the honor of being seen with him. So much gaiety, and such relief that the monster was finally vanquished.”
Hallie leaned up. “It must be so wonderful to have lived as long as you have, through so many amazing happenings, and you know the duke of Wellington. Did you also know George III before he went mad?”
“Oh yes. There were rumors, of course, but in 1788, it was finally announced that the king’s reason had flown the royal head. George got better, but of course, the illness struck him again until finally it never left him. Poor man, shamed by his son and heir, but his queen, Charlotte, ah, such strength she had. Such a pity, such a pity.”
“I cannot imagine being as old as you are. You are so very lucky.”
Lady Lydia would have liked to arch an eyebrow, but she didn’t have any left. “No one has said anything like that to me before. Hmm. I’ve never looked at all my decades in precisely that light. My daughter-in-law is right. Your gown is lovely even with those ridiculous big sleeves that make you six feet wide.”
“At least they fit at the wrist now. You wore those lovely Regency gowns that fit up high and fell straight to the ground.”
“Aye, they were lovely, all that light muslin, no corsets or petticoats to weigh you down, but so many ladies caught dreadful colds because they wore so little. At least today you won’t catch an inflammation of the lung. Hmm. I find it unusual that you know how to dress since you don’t appear to have a husband to select your gowns for you, like these two.”
“I have a fine sense of style, ma’am. Thank you for remarking upon it.”
Alex was utterly baffled, as were the rest of the people in the room. There was utter silence save for Hallie and the dowager’s low voices. The door opened and Douglas came striding in, evidently on a mission to save Miss Carrick. Alex grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t move,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this, but you’re not needed.” Douglas looked at Miss Carrick, and saw his mother’s hand lightly caressing her green sleeve. He froze as had everyone else in the drawing room, his jaw dropped.
Lady Lydia looked over and smiled at her eldest son. “My darling boy, have the red-haired girl pour the tea. At least she’s learned how I take it now.”
“And you appreciate that, don’t you, Mother?”
What was going on here? Hallie wondered. Lady Lydia’s mouth was a tight seam. At the earl’s continued silence, she nodded. “Yes, I am most appreciative.” She turned back to Hallie. “Are you here to marry Jason? My poor precious boy is in need of a good steady girl, a strong girl with nerves of oak. Yes, that is probably the most important requirement of his wife.”
“Why, ma’am? Is he of such a delicate disposition?”
“Oh no, it’s entirely something else. Well, are your nerves strong as a carriage wheel?”
“Yes, ma’am. But why?”
“Both my beautiful grandsons are gentlemen to their quite well-shaped feet, more’s the pity. Jason’s wife must be able to protect him from all the hussies who continually hunt him down with the intent of taking advantage of him.” She shot a look over at Corrie, who was staring fixedly at her, her mouth open. “What is the matter with you, Coriander? You look like a landed trout. It is not attractive. It will give your husband a disgust of you.”
Corrie shut her mouth.
Lady Lydia said to Hallie, “My James’s wife is many things, Miss Carrick, but I will say this for her, she’s strong as the stoutest oak branch. James rarely goes about without her. He knows she will protect him. She has learned to throw herself in front of him when ladies hurl themselves in his path to gain his attention. Coriander tells him his attention is all he will ever bestow, and then only if the female in question has gained her fiftieth summer.”
Jason said, “Grandmother, Miss Carrick is not here to marry me. We barely know each other.”
“I believe the best marriages begin with the exchange of names, nothing more,” said the dowager. “Look at you, my dearest boy, no female with eyes in her head would not try to hunt you down. Poor James now—”
The earl cleared his throat loudly.
“Humph,” said the dowager.
Jason didn’t understand why she hadn’t yet blasted Hallie, but since no one had drunk any tea as of yet there was time for her to change her mind and decide Hallie was an encroaching hussy, like his mother.
“Then why are you so dirty, my boy, if you weren’t chasing her all about the grounds?”
“And she caught me several times and dirtied me up?”
“That’s it, yes.”
“Sorry, Grandmother. You know I bought Lyon’s Gate. I was working there today. I had no time to change my clothes. Forgive me.”
“You were working like a common laborer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lady Lydia accepted a cup of tea from her daughter-in-law. Douglas watched her shake it around in the cup for a moment, saw that she wanted desperately to complain about it, but she knew if she did, she would not be invited back until the hussy herself invited her back, and she could be dead by that time. Hollis passed a lovely large tray filled with scones, lemon tarts, tiny seed cakes, and small cucumber and ham sandwiches, sliced into myriad shapes.
Jason saw Miss Carrick place her tea and plate containing two lemon tarts on the floor beside her. She looked perfectly content to remain at his grandmother’s feet. Just you wait, he wanted to tell her, just you wait until she decides your hair is brassy, o
r those lovely eyes of yours are sly, or God knew what else.
The dowager sipped her tea, grimaced only a little bit, then announced, “No matter Coriander’s faults, and they are multitudinous, she has presented James with two lovely boys, the very image of his beautiful aunt Melissande, who should have been wedded to—”
Douglas cleared his throat, watched his mother poke a tart into her mouth and chew it vigorously, and said, “Jason, you have the look of a contented man. Tell me how everything is going at Lyon’s Gate.”
Jason sat forward, clasped his hands between his knees, forgot that he was dirty and smelled of dried sweat, forgot that Hallie would be living with him and that she was half owner of Lyon’s Gate, and said, “Oh yes. I want you to come over soon, Grandmother, and tell me what you think of my home. The stables are a perfect size, and once we got them all cleared out and cleaned up, we could see the excellent workmanship.” He continued to speak, and everyone smiled at him, nodded, asked questions. It was as if no one else in the room existed except Jason, Hallie thought, eyeing him. Not a word about her, but she’d quickly realized that no one wanted to shock the dowager. And, of course, he’d just gotten home after being away for a very long time. Were they all afraid he would leave again? This time for good? So no one said anything to bruise his tender feelings?
When Jason wound down, a silly grin on his face, Hallie said in a quiet voice to the dowager, “Perhaps you and I could visit Lyon’s Gate together.”
The old lady chewed slowly on her ham sandwich, which had been shaped by Cook to look like one of the full oak trees outside the drawing room window. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, patting Hallie’s sleeve, “I should like that very much.”
Hallie finished a lemon tart. “We will visit early next week.” She grinned. “Do you know when I first saw Hollis only a while ago, I asked him if he was Moses?”
“Moses? That crickety old man? Hmm. He does look rather like some ancient prophet, doesn’t he? I can remember the days when he chased down James and Jason, tucked them under his arms, and delivered them to their tutor, he was that strong. They were ten years old, I remember. What did Hollis tell you?”
Hallie’s lip quivered. “He said no, he wasn’t Moses, he was God.”
The old lady laughed, a cackle really, but it was full-bodied, even though it sounded like rusty nails grinding together. “Did you really, old man?”
Hollis, who was serving some cream onto Corrie’s scone, finished what he was doing, then raised his head and smiled at the dowager. “Certainly, madam.”
CHAPTER 15
Five mornings later at the breakfast table, Alex said, “The messenger you sent to Mrs. Tewksbury returned today with her reply.” She handed Hallie a pristine white envelope, for the messenger had carefully wrapped the letter in a white cloth. She wanted to tell Miss Carrick it was her responsibility to pay the messenger, but that might be a bit heavy-handed.
“Jason, listen. Angela is arriving at the end of the week!”
Douglas said, “You know, Jason, you cannot move into Lyon’s Gate until it’s habitable enough for the ladies.”
“I agree. However, I can.”
Hallie said without missing a beat, “You’re going nowhere near Lyon’s Gate with a pillow and a bed unless I’m with you.”
Douglas choked on his coffee.
“My lord, are you all right?” Hallie was on her feet in an instant and sending the heel of her hand into Douglas’s back.
“I’m fine, Miss Carrick,” Douglas said at last. He looked at Jason, who rolled his eyes.
Hallie reseated herself. “I plan that all of us will move to Lyon’s Gate together.”
Jason said to his relatives, “She doesn’t trust me. It’s an insult to my mother, Miss Carrick, and surely you would wish to rethink that.”
“I beg pardon, ma’am. It is my experience, however, that sometimes the fruit falls some distance from the tree, through no fault of the fine tree.”
“Is this a reference to rotten apples, Hallie?” Corrie said.
“Oh no, surely not,” Hallie said, and grinned like a sinner.
“As the tree in question, Miss Carrick, I forgive you,” said Alex, “However, I do not appreciate your insulting my fruit. You must realize that a tree will go to any length to protect her fruit, no matter how far away it falls. A tree can cast a very long shadow.”
The twins and their father stared at the countess in awe. Jason said, “Ah, speaking as a cherished fruit, I thank you, Mother. Well, Miss Carrick, would you like to graciously ask my parents if they would allow Mrs. Tewksbury to spend some time here?”
Hallie smiled at the countess of Northcliffe, who, she was certain, would prefer her to move to Russia. “My lady, I would be very grateful if you would allow both my cousin and me to remain here for a little while longer. It won’t be much more than a couple of days after she arrives. We’ve visited Mr. Millsom’s furniture warehouse in Eastbourne. We’ve selected fabrics and styles. Truly, well, perhaps three more days after Friday.”
Such a bright, charming girl, Alex thought, wishing she could strangle her and toss her body in Cowper’s well. But it was not to be. “Certainly, Miss Carrick. That will be our pleasure.”
Corrie said, “May I visit Lyon’s Gate today, Jason? See how everything is coming?”
He nodded. “Don’t bring the twins yet. There is too much danger of them getting hurt. You know, Miss Carrick, three days might be about right. Perhaps four. Not everything will be finished, but enough.”
“Oh that would be wonderful! It’s actually going to happen!” She jumped from her chair, grabbed Jason by the hand, pulled him up, and began to waltz him around the breakfast parlor. She was laughing and hopping about, and nearly struck the back of a chair. Suddenly she stopped cold. She was panting a bit. “Oh goodness, I don’t know why I did that. Do forgive me for making a spectacle of you.”
He was laughing at her enthusiasm. “I didn’t mind. I haven’t danced with such enjoyment since just after dawn this morning with my nephews.”
“What is this?” his father said.
“They fetched me out of bed at five-thirty this morning. Actually, they jumped on me and began dancing on the bed.” Jason shrugged, grinned. “We had a fine time of it. Thankfully the little devils collapsed after about ten minutes and all three of us went back to sleep.”
James said, “Their nurse was frantic when she discovered the boys were gone. Corrie and I didn’t panic, however. She stood in the dark hall and said to me, ‘Listen,’ and sure enough there was this muffled singing coming from behind Jason’s bedchamber door. We opened the door very quietly, and there he was dancing with the twins. We left. The next time we saw him was an hour later, one twin tucked under each arm, their heads on his shoulders, sound asleep, all three of them.”
Jason’s smile slid off his face. “Corrie, er, you didn’t really look into the bedchamber the first time, did you? I mean, you didn’t actually see me dancing, did you?”
“Oh yes.” She had the gall to giggle.
He felt the flush rise to his eyebrows. He’d been naked. The twins’ nightshirts had left their feet uncovered, and those small toes had been cold.
Corrie said to the table at large, “Neither James nor Jason wear nightshirts.”
“Thank you for informing everyone of that fact, Corrie,” her husband said, now as red-faced as his twin.
Hallie said, “It can’t be that embarrassing, Jason. You are your brother’s twin, and Corrie’s been married to him a good long time. No surprises, surely.”
Jason’s eyebrow went up. “Isn’t that a tad indelicate for the breakfast table, Hallie?”
“No more indelicate than what your sister-in-law said.”
“But she lives here, has lived here since she was nearly three years old.”
“Oh dear, you’re right. I am very sorry. Sometimes I speak before I think.”
“I think all of us would like some more tea,” Alex said.
>
Douglas said, “Did you dance with James and Jessie Wyndham’s children?”
“Oh yes. We had competitions. I believe that Alice and I won the last one, only three days before I left.”
“Alice?” Douglas asked. “Oh yes, she’s the youngest, isn’t she?”
Jason nodded. “She’s all of four years old, has a mop of red curls, and a precious lisp. She sang the American anthem at the top of her lungs, all of it while we danced, demanded that I sing it along with her. Everyone was laughing so hard when we finished that Alice claimed the prize while everyone was too weak to argue.”
Hallie said when everyone stopped laughing, “And what was the prize?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Nothing much of anything, really. Now, when was the last time you saw Mrs. Tewksbury?”
“I was all of seventeen. My father and Genny asked her to visit Carrick Grange for the Christmas season. She’s in love with my father, but every woman is since he is the most beautiful man in the world. Genny paid it no mind since Angela is of the age to be Genny’s mother. She is something of an original.”
“You honestly believe your father is more beautiful than James and Jason?” Corrie asked, her fork stopped six inches from her mouth.
“Certainly. If the three of them were walking down the street, the ladies would all try to chase my father down. If my father were too fast to be caught, only then would they turn to James and Jason.”
James said quickly, before Corrie hurled a forkful of eggs at Miss Carrick, “No matter. I am looking forward to meeting the original Mrs. Tewksbury.”
Alex said, “As for me, I want to meet Hallie’s father.”
Douglas said, eyebrow hoisted up, “You, my dear wife, may observe Alec Carrick from a distance if ever he chances to appear. Is that clear?”
“You always order me about so prettily, Douglas.”
James said, before Corrie could accuse Hallie of being a blind moron, “Now, Jason, you’ve had ten men hammering, painting, carrying wood, not including the three of us, and ten women scrubbing, with Hallie supervising all of us. You’ve agreed on furniture, have you not?”
Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123) Page 106