Bride by Necessity (9781460333907)

by Glaz, Linda S.

  Kenny held her up for scrutiny. “I do believe she’s goin’ ta make it, sir. I put a little mud along her side here. Rinsed her eyes so’s maybe they’ll heal. She’s not happy with all the attention, but I think there’s a chance she’ll survive. And the girl? Miss Whittard?”

  Lambrick stared first at the pup and then at Kenny. How should he know? Emily had banned him from the room. So much for her being his ward, but he could not let on he wasn’t allowed into a room in his own house. “Same as the puppy. Maybe and maybe not. Time will tell. Mrs. Brewster is with her and said she’ll stay by her side until we know more.” He knelt by the stool and touched the velvety nose now crusted with mud. Well, Kenny allowed him to help, at least.

  “Emily’s a fine lady.” Kenny nodded, holding on with all his might to keep the pup quiet as she clawed at him to be let down. “If anyone can see the girl through this, Emily Brewster can.”

  With little effort, Jonathan drew the anxious pup into his arms and stroked the soft fur left along the back of the pup’s neck and shoulders. “Poor little mite. You’re lucky your mistress cared enough to dig around for you.” Black eyes stared at him, and her tongue lapped at his hands. “Where did you discover her, Kenny?”

  “Scramblin’ out of that half-charred wood. The miss saved her life all right. If she hadn’t loosened the boards, the pup wouldn’ta found her way out.”

  Jonathan thought about what she had sacrificed to save this dog, pictured her small hands clamoring at the scorched boards to find her precious puppies. Such determination for one so young. He swallowed hard. He had been as determined at life once upon a time. When had he lost that strength of character? He’d lost his desire to live when Alithea died. When she... He handed the puppy back to Kenny and rose.

  “Stay with her. All night if you must. This animal cannot die.”

  * * *

  Like monsters tormenting her in the bowels of the earth, hands plucked at her, causing more pain. “Please, leave me. Stop touching me.”

  Fingers wiped her forehead and offered relief at last with cool water. “There, now.”

  “That hurts. What...happened?” Was someone really there or had she imagined the cool hands and soft voice?

  “I will stay by you. You have nothing to fear, dearie. The master’s gone to the stable and there’s no one to find out.”

  That familiar voice again. Mother? “Find out...what?”

  “I’ll keep your secret.”

  Foolish talk. Payton squinted through eyes stinging from salty tears. Everything blurred before her. Not her mother—Mrs. Brewster from Kent Hall. “My secret?”

  “Dearie, you’re no child.”

  It was so dark and now this woman’s foolish talk. “I think I...remember telling all of you...that.”

  A soft hand patted her arm, then spooned liquid into her mouth. “You did indeed. I suppose we weren’t listening.”

  “No one here...ever listens.” The taste stuck to her tongue and she shivered. Secrets. She kept no secrets.

  “Try and sleep.” Pieces of hair stuck in her eyes, causing them to burn when Mrs. Brewster smoothed her brow. “The laudanum will help to ease the pain. Are you comfortable?”

  “Not very. I’m sorry to complain.”

  “Child, you have been through a great deal. You may say whatever you like to old Emily, here.”

  “Emily?” A shiver racked her and her teeth chattered when she spoke. “I’m cold. Could I...have a quilt?”

  “Doctor says nothing but the damp sheets. For the burns. We can’t let the material stick to your skin. But I’ll fetch another and put it on top of this one. You try and sleep. And rest those eyes. In no time at all, you’ll be right as rain.”

  “Yes, ma’am. But the hounds. Did they...find any of the hounds?” She stifled a yawn, fighting to stay awake until she heard about her animals.

  “That will have to wait ’til morning. You are all that’s important right now.”

  Payton did her best to lie still under the sheets but felt her skin pull against it, and she cried with the sharp pain. Even when she stayed as still as a fat tick, the ache was more than she could bear.

  One day at a time.

  Her father had taught her early on when she first lost a favorite animal that difficulties came easier if you dealt with them one day at a time. It must be the same with pain. Well then, she would endure this torture one miserable day at a time.

  * * *

  Daubed in mud from the puppy, Jonathan landed on the top step seconds before Mrs. Brewster eased into the hall and closed Payton’s door in his face. His face heated. “Why aren’t you in there caring for her?” His hands brushed at his jacket, disliking disorder of his person even in times of stress.

  “Shh. Mr. Lambrick, she’s sleeping. Doesn’t need us hovering. If I might be presumptuous, you don’t look well yourself.” She indicated the mud with a wave of her hand.

  “One pup survived. Mr. Kenny plastered her in mud and I was attending to her.” He didn’t like the glint in Emily’s eyes, as if she thought he was going soft. His brow arched, and he regained control of the situation. “Kenny needed my help.” He left out what he really meant. If he held on tight enough and willed it so, the pup might live.

  The straight line of determination on her lips cracked into the start of a smile. She could read his mind the same as when he was a child. But he wasn’t a child. Didn’t have a child’s problems.

  She touched his sleeve, and he gazed into eyes tired from too many years of caring for him. “You’ll be needing sleep as much as the girl,” she said.

  Was she insane? He would no more sleep tonight than would Payton. Furthermore, he didn’t need Emily dictating his every step. “I can’t sleep. I’ve lost a good man and nearly allowed his house to burn down around his daughter’s head. How shall I sleep knowing I failed him so miserably?”

  “Wasn’t your fault. When, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir, will you stop bearing the brunt of responsibility for everyone in your world? God numbers the days for each of us, and it was the end for Miss Whittard’s father.”

  “Don’t call me sir. You’re like a mother to me, Emily.”

  “God numbers our days, Jonathan, dearie. God, not man.”

  What kind of God reached through eternity and snatched an entire family? What kind? It was the same argument he’d had with God when Alithea died. “And the man’s wife? And son? What about them?”

  “What about them? We all have a time to live and a time to die. You rescued the miss in there. Be thankful it wasn’t her time, as well.”

  As his boot came to rest on the cherrywood bench, he leaned against his knee, his hand massaging the tight muscles along his jaw. Once again, like the little boy Emily Brewster had nursed and loved, he relied on her for comfort and wisdom. He bit down on his lip where the scar never rested but rippled hard against the tip of his tongue. “Will her sight return?”

  “Perhaps, in time. She squinted and I’m convinced she saw a bit when we were talking. A fine sign. We’ll wait ’til morning before worrying. See how the night plays out. She’s from strong stock, like her father.”

  His face drew tight and he pressed his lip harder. “A little beauty, like her mother.”

  She pretended to ignore his comment, but he wasn’t fooled.

  “Yessir. Mind you, could you ask that lazy girl, Clarisse, to fetch a bucket of lukewarm water? I’ll be needing more in a bit to keep the sheets wet.” Her hands steered him along the steps. “And while we are on the topic of clothes...”

  His face curved in an unexpected grin, relaxing his taut muscles at long last. He leaned in intimately and whispered in her ear, “We weren’t on the topic of clothes, Emily.”

  “Ahh, but we are now, Jonathan, lad.”

  So like her to speak in rid
dles, his favorite game as a child. Drawing back, he stared in her eyes and noticed the milky-white covering for the first time. She had grown older when he wasn’t looking. “Emily, I know you have a point to make.” He straightened as if his full stature would force her thoughts out into the open.

  “The girl has nothing. One smoke-stained dress and a smattering of undergarments. Her boots are scorched beyond saving. Are you still planning that trip to London?”

  He had forgotten all about London. Now seemed rather inappropriate. But Emily’s words rang true; the girl must have clothes. She couldn’t go traipsing about the halls in nothing but a nightshirt. If all went well and she improved by morning, he would ride out and arrange for the appropriate purchases.

  What did one wear to romp with dogs? “You should make a list so I’ll know what to purchase.”

  “You could ask Miss Anne’s assistance.”

  He pictured blond curls dancing around a smiling face—a woman on a mission as purchases piled up in the dress district. “I could.”

  Chapter 3

  Days turned into a week, and then two, and then a month. Payton could tolerate the confinement no longer. The people at Kent had been more than helpful and kind, but she wasn’t accustomed to being smothered with attention, not even when done in charity. “Mrs. Brewster!”

  “I’m here. What’s all the shouting?”

  The woman, never far from Payton’s side, lumbered into her bedchamber. “Are you feeling better now?”

  Oh, how she longed for a ride in the hills. To be all alone for the first time since her parents’ and brother’s deaths. “I’m stronger now. Truly, Mrs. Brewster.”

  “Emily.”

  “Miss Emily. I need to go outside and feel the sunshine.”

  “I see no reason against it, dearie.”

  Hope yelped in the corner, vying for Payton’s attention. She crossed the room and drew the wriggling pup into her arms. Her face was quickly washed by Hope’s tongue. Disentangling herself from the pup’s enthusiastic attentions, she gently placed the puppy back on her blanket.

  “Where are the clothes Mr. Lambrick brought?” She had seen Mrs. Brewster with them when first he returned. But where had the woman put them? She gazed about the room. Of course, the wardrobe. With a slight limp—her foot throbbed when she walked—she hobbled over and opened the door; her eyes fell on enough dresses for a dozen girls. “Are these all for me?”

  “He insisted you be dressed in the best. A lady friend picked them out. As a matter of fact, she—”

  “I see. But there’s not one dress suitable for the stable. Sooner or later, I will find it necessary to move Hope from this room to the stable.” Fingering the gowns, she could tell they had been constructed of the finest silk and softest wools. They would never do for her activities. After a few minutes of exploring, she spotted a modest two-piece gown with a flowing skirt. One she would be able to move easily in. “These will do fine. Have I any shoes?”

  “Soft leather boots right here, Miss Payton. Sit down and I’ll help you. Your feet are still a might swollen.”

  She spied a small hole in her stocking and tucked her toes beneath her. “I’m not sure how I will ever repay the kindness Mr. Lambrick has shown me.” She tugged at her sleeves.

  “You won’t be repaying anyone anything, Miss Payton. Mr. Lambrick had great respect for your father. He’ll not want you thinking on such matters. You just concentrate on healing.” Mrs. Brewster frowned but assisted Payton in wriggling into the serviceable gown. Payton pulled on her boots, then lifted the bottom of her skirt and tucked it into her waistband, which provoked a shocked expression on Mrs. Brewster’s face.

  “Absolutely not! You are not allowed to leave this room appearing like a madwoman. Mr. Lambrick has guests arriving from London any minute, and he would be most displeased.”

  Allowed? If she didn’t put her foot down immediately, this woman would control her every move. “But, Mrs. Brewster, skirts get in the way.”

  “A lady never dresses like...a man.”

  How foolhardy. “Well, of course they do. I’ve done it my entire life.”

  “It is evident your parents were not slaves to your upbringing.”

  Not true. They had taught her compassion. To love when no one else did. Silly things like skirts held no great significance. She glanced into Mrs. Brewster’s face, lips pursed so tightly they almost disappeared into her skin. This battle was lost for the moment. She untucked the skirt and smiled. With a quick nod she dashed past the mirror. Her hair. What could be done about her hair? At least it wasn’t as badly burned as she had originally thought.

  “Have you any combs I could use to restrain these wretched patches of hair?”

  “I thought about that. I’ll trim the sides and you can pin the back into a coil of curls—of sorts. Then, with a little curl here and there and a suitable bonnet, no one will notice part of your hair has been burned.”

  “Of course not. No one will notice.” She groaned and twirled from her reflection. Her beautiful hair, burned above her shoulders in places. “Well, the fresh air will do me good, even if I look like a crazy woman.” She ruffled the hair with wild hands, glanced at the housekeeper and laughed. Happy to feel her joyous self return, she smiled at Mrs. Brewster’s raised brow and tight expression.

  * * *

  Autumn leaves crackled beneath her feet and the crisp air filled her senses until her eyes welled and stung. The sun, still too bright for her tender eyes, irritated the skin surrounding them. And with one look in the direction of the cottage ruins, tears flowed openly. In one month she had lost her mother, her father, her brother and her home. She lived with strangers and didn’t know how long she could stay before they would expect her to be on her way. Her anger simmered just below the surface but not with the people at Kent Park. At first she had been angry with God, but that lasted as long as the pain from the burns. In her heart she knew better. He had seen her through terrible tragedy and she was grateful for His presence. Perhaps in time all the hurt would heal as her eyes had.

  A gust of air blew from the stable and carried the odor of animals, manure and hay. An earthy smell—one she loved. She breathed deeply and grinned; without wasting another second, she moved in that direction.

  “Mornin’, Miss Payton.” Mr. Kenny tipped his warped leather hat and she smiled back, so full of gratitude for his careful tending of Hope. His face, a mirror of compassion, gazed back at her.

  “I want to thank you again for looking after Hope, Mr. Kenny. She’s so much better now. I have a basket for her with an old piece of soft wool for her comfort. She’s happier than Mr. Lambrick is about her residing in the house. I’m not sure he’s fond of a yapping pup. Hunter is so calm and gentle...and quiet.”

  “I’m sure he truly doesn’t mind, Miss Payton.”

  She lifted one brow as she wondered and then realized she didn’t care.

  “He’s a fine gentleman, Miss.”

  She wanted the puppy with her and that was that. If she were to be imprisoned at Kent, so would Hope. She ignored Mr. Kenny’s bowing and scraping at the feet of his master. “Is there any chance of my riding this morning?”

  “You ride?”

  “Absolutely. Whenever your master’s away, one of the stable boys saddles Winter for me. I’ve been riding her for three years.”

  He couldn’t hide his amusement. “I won’t be askin’ which boy that was. T’would cause him a mountain of grief with the master, now, wouldn’t it? But I can guess.”

  And her amusement matched his with a smile and shrug of her shoulders. “I do so appreciate it. If you think Mr. Lambrick would approve.”

  He reached for the saddle and headed toward Winter’s stall. “I guess we’re a bit past worryin’ about Mr. Lambrick’s approval, now, aren’t we?”

  S
he giggled and tucked in her skirt, ignoring the frown so similar to that of Mrs. Brewster. “You’ll need the other saddle, Mr. Kenny. I ride astride.”

  His jaw dropped and she shrugged her shoulders. “Mr. Kenny, is this to be an issue between us?”

  “No, miss. I’ll fetch the saddle.” But his lip and right eye twitched and he mumbled under his breath as he saddled the mare.

  As she looped a leg over to straddle Winter’s back, she knew she had to set Mr. Kenny straight so there would be no confrontations in the future. “Now don’t scold. I always ride this way. I can’t imagine how disagreeable it must be to ride with my legs dangling over the side. I might trot a bit, but I could never truly ride.” She offered her best smile to appease him. “Thank you, Mr. Kenny.” Her hand waved as she booted gently on Winter’s sides, and the two raced out of the stable as if they belonged together. In fact, they did.

  She found she was lost in the beauty of the countryside, fallen leaves a blanket of crunchy, musty beauty from one meadow to the other. One with the horse, jumping, flying, dashing in and out of pastures and through the forest glen. Free. As free as a bird after being caged for a month. Her hair fell loose and she refused to stop and pin it up.

  Deep in the woods, she must have been gone an hour before she heard heavy hooves behind her and a loud, commanding voice pulling alongside. “Did Mrs. Brewster give you leave to ride?”

  Lambrick grabbed the reins, and her heart leaped in her throat. Caught. Well, she wouldn’t behave like a guilty child. She decided when and where she rode. But with the strong touch of his fingers as they grazed hers, she felt nothing like a child.

  She swallowed hard. “No one gives me permission to move about. I did ask if I might take Winter out, however. Mr. Kenny agreed.” She bit her lip, wondering if he could read the half-truth. “Well, he didn’t exactly disagree.” Would they never stop treating her like a child? The dark cloud on his forehead foretold of a dressing down. She straightened, head up, chin jutting forward, and plunged on. “I was not aware I was in need of anyone’s permission.” With a shrug and grunt, she twisted from his glare.